To me a good experience is not one that just skips to the "juicy" part, forgetting the really interesting part, the actual background, how that person was introduced to this art form, what inspired his piece, if it was inspired at all, I really don't think any option makes a tattoo any less significant then the other. All that said, that is where I want to start my experience.
At A Glance Author RebornAz Contact RebornAz@bme.anon When A week ago Artist Arik Studio B-Street Location Tel-Aviv I was first introduced to the art of body modification probably as an infant, seeing those oh-so common lobe piercings most women have.
My more serious, if you will, introduction to body mod was the one of any normal teenager: out at the school yard, and on the streets.
All those piercing I found so exotic and exciting, I was instantly drawn.
That was nearly 3 years ago, and in the months and years passing I've been exploring this world as much as I could, through the web in sites such as this, and boards, seeking the advice of more experienced, grown, men and women whom I idolized for their free spirit and the ability to pursue their interests.
I cannot pinpoint the exact time I began to feel fascinated with tattoos, but I do recall being instantly drawn to the style of New School tattoos, oh yes the complexity, all those colors and designs that struck me.
Little by little I began to feel the need to mark myself; something my parents attributed to the depression I was struggling with at that time, to them it was nothing more then a way for me to hurt my self.
For me the case was probably the opposite. I began seeing it as a way to improve my self, remind myself I still existed.
And so, at the age of 16 I informed my parents I was planning to have myself tattooed, and they could either stand behind me, or we could fight about it, but either way I was having my way.
As you could probably imagine, much fighting ensued, many agreements for and against, and in the end I decided to stop the fight, but not the war. And so every so often I would reiterate my wishes, hoping this time I would find more support.
It was not after I had successfully faced my problems and came out on top that I did in fact receive that support from my mother, my father would not yield.
It was with that support that I began making steps to fulfilling my dream, small and large. I began researching the various meanings of symbols I wished to incorporate in to my piece, and so the day came that I made an appointment for a consultation meeting with Arik of B-Street tattoos.
The days went by slowly, until the day finally arrived and with mixed emotions varying from excitement, unjustified shyness, fear, and nervousness, I made my way via bus to Tel-Aviv.
I had met Arik before, when I had looked at their portfolios, but it was a brief introduction and I really had no idea what to expect, besides his reputation in the community.
What ever nervousness I might have felt on the way disappeared moments after beginning to talk to Arik, and I was immediately put at ease by his friendliness and helpfulness as I mumbled, trying to explain the image which I could see so clearly in my head.
The meeting went on, and after an hour I emerged out of the shop, with an appointment for the following month, confident in the abilities of my chosen artist.
The days and weeks dragged on, and I used them to gather every bit of information on what I can expect of the actual tattooing process and the tattoo itself in the days following.
My first crushing disappointment came roughly a week before my planned appointment when I realized I would be traveling only a few days after it to Morocco, a country not well suitable for the healing process of a tattoo. So with a heavy heart I delayed my appointment to the week following my return, only to be disappointed again as Arik suffered a personal emergency of a sort and so had to reschedule me for two weeks after.
Fast forward 13 days after, and there I was, so close to achieving my goal, and frankly nervous as hell. The following morning was strangely just as typical as any other day, I was off to school futilely trying to listen to whatever was discussed, and unlike the last 2 months, the hours flew by, and before I knew it I was on that bus again, backpack filled with sugary goodness to help me get through the process.
When I come in the shop was already slightly filled with would be clients, and that allowed me some time to gather my self, and prepare, and it did not take long from Arik to notice me and off we were to his own tattooing room, discussing placement and coloring. I had previously decided to have the piece done on my shoulder, only to later change my mind to the back of my left leg, and I was quite relieved to hear it was no issue at all.
The actual tattooing process was not a difficult one, nor strange to me, as I seemed to have almost experienced it myself through the writings of others such as me. The feeling varying from a strange, but oddly comfortable, sensation to a slightly uncomfortable one and finally to a quite uncomfortable pain. But that was alright, because I could see and feel the back of my leg taking form into the piece of art I had always wanted.
Looking back I don't recall much talking past the occasional "are you still alright?" and "you're doing great", and I don't think it really bothered me, preferring to stay in my own small world, and keeping Arik the least distracted.
3 hours later we were done, and I carefully dismounted the bed I had been laying on the entire time to examine the work.
Thrilled would not be a strong enough word to describe my feeling, it was more then I could possibly imagine and hope for.
Slightly tired, and pleased, I returned home where I was cornered by my parents, demanding to see what I had gotten. I had dreaded that moment, fearing their reaction, but obviously misjudging their character as they were both quite supportive, perhaps not thrilled about the tattoo, but supportive still.
I guess the moral I'd like to pass on is quite old already; never give up on your dream, sometimes they do come true.