There are some simple things anyone planning on getting a tattoo can and should do to make the experience the best it can possibly be. One of the most frequently overlooked is eating a good, carbohydrate-rich meal just before getting inked. There are several reasons for this, not the least of which is preventing low blood sugar as the result of sustained endorphin output while under the needles.
While you're being tattooed, your body is constantly kicking out endorphins to block the pain. The high associated with new ink is endorphins, your body's own natural happy drug. The endorphins reduce the pain, and create a state of euphoria that lasts for many hours after the tattoo is finished. You can compare the high from getting a tattoo to the highs of many of the most popular drugs on the planet. Cocaine, Heroin, Methamphetamine all induce endorphins. In fact, the high from these drugs isn't a result of the drugs themselves, it's the body's reaction to having an overwhelming amount of endorphins trickling through our brains. One big important difference, however, is that getting a tattoo isn't illegal for most people, and it won't stop your body from creating endorphins for the normal reasons such as in response to pain and physical exertion. The drugs, on the other hand are addictive because after a few uses, your body will not put out endorphins unless and until you take more drugs. Having plenty of carbohydrates just before getting inked is the best way to assure a good, sustained endorphin output, and the least painful tattoo experience possible.
Other advantages to having plenty of carbs before getting inked are numerous. A full belly trips some biological responses that do things like lower our heart rates and allow us to be more relaxed while we're getting inked. For you, this means your lines will be more stable and less shaky, and your artist will appreciate your ability to hold still in the chair. Your ink will look better and last longer because your blood pressure will be lower as you are more relaxed so less of it gets pushed back out of your skin after being inserted. This means less time spent going back over skin that's already irritated, and less pain as a result. It can also mean that your tattoos get a little cheaper as your relationship with your artist gets better, the artist gets to know how much easier it is to tattoo you, and how much better their work looks when people see it around town. I myself have given deep discounts to people who sit better as the inking process takes less time and effort on my part, and in the end, that's what I am getting paid for; the time and effort of inking you.
On the other hand, if you don't eat well, and your blood sugar drops, your body puts out adrenaline to speed your digestion so it can correct the deficiency by extracting carbohydrates from whatever food may be in your digestive tract. The adrenaline raises your blood pressure, making your skin more likely to push ink back out and require several passes of the needles over the same skin to get the ink in properly. This can result in scarring from overworking the skin. It can result in a spotty tattoo with some spots that fade much more quickly or even spit out enough of the ink that they look like the artist missed them altogether. And it can result in an irritated artist that after a little while gives up on the idea of giving you a fabulous tattoo and is willing to settle for "decent". Compared to what you spend on a good tattoo, the cost of a good, carb-rich meal is negligible. Compared to what a lot of people spend on the aftercare of a tattoo during healing, the meal is again cheap. So do yourself and your favorite artist a favor. Eat well before getting inked. You won't regret it.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
How We Bear Scars
I've been mulling over this blog topic for a few weeks now, pondering its different aspects and angles -- tattooing and scars. The more I thought about it, the more there seemed needed to be mulled over and uncovered and though this post might be glossing over many things, hopefully it would shed
some light to the readers about not only how we work as artists but how people operate in general.
Sounds cryptic? Well, bear with me for a bit here. Back in the US, we often saw a lot of clients come into the shop wanting to hide scars -- whether they be surgery or badly healed old injuries or wounds or reminders of unpleasant occurrences or accidents in the past. It seemed slightly ironic to me to have to help conceal these with a tattoo -- for all intents and purposes, a tattoo, after all, just happens to be a decorated kind of scar upon the skin.
Each person bears different and unique characteristics upon their skin. Every case, thus, is unique. Scar tissue, in general, tends to be less kind to tattoo ink than 'normal' skin...in some cases, they tend to reject ink altogether and the result is a little less than pretty. However, we've also seen a good number of beautiful examples where scars have been successfully covered up and the area beautified. Ultimately, there is one thing to understand: Not all scars can be fixed with a tat, and clients cannot (always) expect miracles.
There is no hard and fast rule that this procedure is always successful so please understand in certain cases when your tattoo artist (I'm speaking in general terms) prefers not to touch the area, he/she is doing it for a good reason. I would be a little more leery if the artist isn't prepared to offer input to 'fixing the problem' and instead, straightaway promises that yes, we can hide the scar, yes you won't be able to tell it was ever there, yes we can do it and please put your money down now.
Personally, I would look at healed areas and certain surgical scars and even then, make calculations as to what to do and not to do to the area. Like I said earlier, every case is unique.
In one memorable one back in Augusta, a military wife came to me with multiple spot keloids, all disfigured and highly raised, in different and displaced areas on her torso. She wanted them covered up. After explaining to her the issues at hand, we opted instead of covering the scars with ink, we'd work a design around the scarred area so as to distract the eye from all the keloids and zoom in onto a pretty
tattoo instead. I drew up a floral design of hibiscuses (she spent some time in Hawaii when she was in the US Army) and ran snaking vinework around the keloid areas.
I would never forget the change in her that I saw with my very eyes. When she first came in for a consultation, she hated her body (at the time, she was a high-end Atlanta bartender, in her 40s, with a figure girls half her age would envy). We pulled all our curtains in my private booth and I spent five minutes having to persuade her to even lift her shirt to show me what I had to work with. I took measurements, got to drawing and when she came for the tattoo itself, she began to lose much of the "I hate my body" attitude that she first came in with. She got a little more confident after we put the stencil on her and freehanded some of the vines around the keloids.
By the time I was done with the lining and shading, prior to putting in the colours, on her tattoo, she was literally walking around outside the shop in her sports bra during her cigarette break, quietly enjoying the appreciative looks she got from many a person and not caring whether she had scars or not. In her mind, she
later told me, she no longer had the scars, just the memories of how she got them. She left that day, a far happier person. In fact, she made me take a picture of it and sent the image along to her husband who was deployed to the Middle East. We also got a large number of referrals from her, from that experience! Me, I was just really thankful that I got the opportunity to make someone's life a little better, as I hope to do each time I kick on the tattoo machine.
A little more recently and closer to home, US Skin Grafx got a call from a Malaysian woman a couple of months back. Yvonne (not her real name) came for a consultation, and showed me a series of surgical scars on her ankles, feet and legs that she wanted covered up. Thinking she was involved in some sort of accident, I asked her what had happened.
"I am partially disabled," she told me. "I have spina bifida; and have lived with it since birth." Spina bifida, I later researched and discovered, is a congenital condition in which the spine and backbone canal do not close prior to birth.
Again, with Yvonne, she wanted all of the scars covered up with a design. In areas where we could do so successfully, I agreed to draw upon the affected skin. In the scarred area where it was wiser not to mess with, I suggested going around the areas and making it colourful. We pondered a phoenix, and then roses and finally finalised on peonies, in a half-modern, half-Nyonya style pattern. I was stoked. I have Nyonya blood (via Penang) and the culture, its style and indeed, art, have always spoken to me.
When she came for her tattoo, Yvonne cheerfully said to me, "Don't worry about me. I've had so many operations, I can't feel a thing around the area you're about to ink." I did tell her to communicate with me at all times how she was doing. Because of the unique nature of this client and the extra demands it put (more time, greater attention to her wellbeing, etc), I closed the shop to everyone else for that day and deferred any consultation requests to another day. We started, quietly enough. Since I hate working in silence, just like I dislike surly artists who discourage conversation, we started talking albeit in a desultory manner.
We talked about a lot of things. About jobs (she is one of those silent-but-true backbone types in a major government organisation), family, husbands, ambitions, hopes and disappointments. We talked about jobs, food, travels, politics, technology, economy, futures and beliefs. She was there a good few hours. Through it all, I discovered someone to admire. This was a person who took her disadvantages with equanimity and lived her life on her own terms. Never once did she place blame on any person or circumstances for her lot in life. I had the impression that life wasn't always a lot of fun or kind, but it wasn't a big tragedy.
The prevailing impression I had from that talk was that if life knocked you down, you just picked yourself up, dusted the dirt off your ass and moved on. So what if you had a few scars along the way? It wasn't a big deal. They are only an issue if you make them an issue.
"Yes, lah, I am cacat!" she said, laughing. (cacat in direct translation means 'lame' in the Malay language) I detected no sadness, no bitterness. Just an "oh well, shit happens but I'm ok so don't you fret about anything" attitude. I've met a lot more people born with full capacity of brain and limbs who complain a hell of a lot more than she ever did. I was slightly ashamed that I've whined a lot easier over far smaller things. And to help not only herself, but others who may have spina bifida,she has started a support group for those similarly afflicted. The reason why she wanted her leg tattooed was that she was a little conscious of her surgical scars when she went swimming, and wanted people to look at her tattoo, not her scars.
Getting back to the tattoo and stopping the rambling :) , we put peonies, tribal-like curls from her foot to the area above her ankle, curving around the ankle bone. We added in colour (Randy custom mixed some of the purples). She didn't move at all. We stopped once, for a drink of Coke. After everything was said and done, she hopped off the bed, walked to the mirror, told me she loved it. As for the remaining scars, it was a non-issue.
"After this, what are your plans?" I asked her.
"After this, I'm going home and making dinner," she told me.
What I never told her, though, was what a humbling experience it was meeting her. And what an honour it was, to ink her. Hopefully, she'll call to catch up one day. Wherever Yvonne is, we sincerely wish her the best.
~~EK
 |
| Side to front view of the peonies, done in high color, reworking and updating an old Oriental style |
I've been mulling over this blog topic for a few weeks now, pondering its different aspects and angles -- tattooing and scars. The more I thought about it, the more there seemed needed to be mulled over and uncovered and though this post might be glossing over many things, hopefully it would shed
some light to the readers about not only how we work as artists but how people operate in general.
Sounds cryptic? Well, bear with me for a bit here. Back in the US, we often saw a lot of clients come into the shop wanting to hide scars -- whether they be surgery or badly healed old injuries or wounds or reminders of unpleasant occurrences or accidents in the past. It seemed slightly ironic to me to have to help conceal these with a tattoo -- for all intents and purposes, a tattoo, after all, just happens to be a decorated kind of scar upon the skin.
Each person bears different and unique characteristics upon their skin. Every case, thus, is unique. Scar tissue, in general, tends to be less kind to tattoo ink than 'normal' skin...in some cases, they tend to reject ink altogether and the result is a little less than pretty. However, we've also seen a good number of beautiful examples where scars have been successfully covered up and the area beautified. Ultimately, there is one thing to understand: Not all scars can be fixed with a tat, and clients cannot (always) expect miracles.
There is no hard and fast rule that this procedure is always successful so please understand in certain cases when your tattoo artist (I'm speaking in general terms) prefers not to touch the area, he/she is doing it for a good reason. I would be a little more leery if the artist isn't prepared to offer input to 'fixing the problem' and instead, straightaway promises that yes, we can hide the scar, yes you won't be able to tell it was ever there, yes we can do it and please put your money down now.
Personally, I would look at healed areas and certain surgical scars and even then, make calculations as to what to do and not to do to the area. Like I said earlier, every case is unique.
In one memorable one back in Augusta, a military wife came to me with multiple spot keloids, all disfigured and highly raised, in different and displaced areas on her torso. She wanted them covered up. After explaining to her the issues at hand, we opted instead of covering the scars with ink, we'd work a design around the scarred area so as to distract the eye from all the keloids and zoom in onto a pretty
tattoo instead. I drew up a floral design of hibiscuses (she spent some time in Hawaii when she was in the US Army) and ran snaking vinework around the keloid areas.
I would never forget the change in her that I saw with my very eyes. When she first came in for a consultation, she hated her body (at the time, she was a high-end Atlanta bartender, in her 40s, with a figure girls half her age would envy). We pulled all our curtains in my private booth and I spent five minutes having to persuade her to even lift her shirt to show me what I had to work with. I took measurements, got to drawing and when she came for the tattoo itself, she began to lose much of the "I hate my body" attitude that she first came in with. She got a little more confident after we put the stencil on her and freehanded some of the vines around the keloids.
By the time I was done with the lining and shading, prior to putting in the colours, on her tattoo, she was literally walking around outside the shop in her sports bra during her cigarette break, quietly enjoying the appreciative looks she got from many a person and not caring whether she had scars or not. In her mind, she
later told me, she no longer had the scars, just the memories of how she got them. She left that day, a far happier person. In fact, she made me take a picture of it and sent the image along to her husband who was deployed to the Middle East. We also got a large number of referrals from her, from that experience! Me, I was just really thankful that I got the opportunity to make someone's life a little better, as I hope to do each time I kick on the tattoo machine.
A little more recently and closer to home, US Skin Grafx got a call from a Malaysian woman a couple of months back. Yvonne (not her real name) came for a consultation, and showed me a series of surgical scars on her ankles, feet and legs that she wanted covered up. Thinking she was involved in some sort of accident, I asked her what had happened.
"I am partially disabled," she told me. "I have spina bifida; and have lived with it since birth." Spina bifida, I later researched and discovered, is a congenital condition in which the spine and backbone canal do not close prior to birth.
 |
| An initial rose sketch (which was KO'ed)! |
Again, with Yvonne, she wanted all of the scars covered up with a design. In areas where we could do so successfully, I agreed to draw upon the affected skin. In the scarred area where it was wiser not to mess with, I suggested going around the areas and making it colourful. We pondered a phoenix, and then roses and finally finalised on peonies, in a half-modern, half-Nyonya style pattern. I was stoked. I have Nyonya blood (via Penang) and the culture, its style and indeed, art, have always spoken to me.
When she came for her tattoo, Yvonne cheerfully said to me, "Don't worry about me. I've had so many operations, I can't feel a thing around the area you're about to ink." I did tell her to communicate with me at all times how she was doing. Because of the unique nature of this client and the extra demands it put (more time, greater attention to her wellbeing, etc), I closed the shop to everyone else for that day and deferred any consultation requests to another day. We started, quietly enough. Since I hate working in silence, just like I dislike surly artists who discourage conversation, we started talking albeit in a desultory manner.
 |
| Fnished side view of Yvonne's peonies. Note, for certain scars, it's better to work around and not on the skin. |
We talked about a lot of things. About jobs (she is one of those silent-but-true backbone types in a major government organisation), family, husbands, ambitions, hopes and disappointments. We talked about jobs, food, travels, politics, technology, economy, futures and beliefs. She was there a good few hours. Through it all, I discovered someone to admire. This was a person who took her disadvantages with equanimity and lived her life on her own terms. Never once did she place blame on any person or circumstances for her lot in life. I had the impression that life wasn't always a lot of fun or kind, but it wasn't a big tragedy.
The prevailing impression I had from that talk was that if life knocked you down, you just picked yourself up, dusted the dirt off your ass and moved on. So what if you had a few scars along the way? It wasn't a big deal. They are only an issue if you make them an issue.
"Yes, lah, I am cacat!" she said, laughing. (cacat in direct translation means 'lame' in the Malay language) I detected no sadness, no bitterness. Just an "oh well, shit happens but I'm ok so don't you fret about anything" attitude. I've met a lot more people born with full capacity of brain and limbs who complain a hell of a lot more than she ever did. I was slightly ashamed that I've whined a lot easier over far smaller things. And to help not only herself, but others who may have spina bifida,she has started a support group for those similarly afflicted. The reason why she wanted her leg tattooed was that she was a little conscious of her surgical scars when she went swimming, and wanted people to look at her tattoo, not her scars.
Getting back to the tattoo and stopping the rambling :) , we put peonies, tribal-like curls from her foot to the area above her ankle, curving around the ankle bone. We added in colour (Randy custom mixed some of the purples). She didn't move at all. We stopped once, for a drink of Coke. After everything was said and done, she hopped off the bed, walked to the mirror, told me she loved it. As for the remaining scars, it was a non-issue.
"After this, what are your plans?" I asked her.
"After this, I'm going home and making dinner," she told me.
What I never told her, though, was what a humbling experience it was meeting her. And what an honour it was, to ink her. Hopefully, she'll call to catch up one day. Wherever Yvonne is, we sincerely wish her the best.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Big Butterfly Overhaul
EK:
Time does pass a little quickly when there is more to be done. It was with a mild sense of guilt that I've realised that I've put off a new posting of the blog about a new/old friend who came a-visiting to talk about a repair job for an old tattoo more than a month ago.
A new/old friend, you say? It's not that I cannot make up my mind about the dynamics of a friendship -- it's just that I've met Alicia recently, and yet we seem to go way, way, back. For more details about the first meet, click here:
http://us-skin-grafx.blogspot.com/2011/01/kismet-or-serendipity-ordont-i-know-you.html
According to Ali, the old ink covered up an older tattoo, and was done a few years ago by Eddie David. From what I understood, the first piece of ink was covered up by the black-coloured body of a butterfly. There were no hard lines to the wings, and they flared out in cloudy shapes from blue to pinkish-red to yellow.
That time, we ended up breaking out some new skin scribes (surgical marking pens) and drawing suggestions directly on her shoulder. However, I strongly felt that overhauling the existing butterfly tattoo required more thinking and consideration than what we were drawing on the spot, so Alicia went home while I screwed on another thinking cap to tackle the issue.
There were a couple of issues I was concerned with. First, there was marked scarring on the skin in certain areas where the original wings had been put in, which means putting certain colours, especially those with large pigments, would be unadvisable. Pumping ink with large pigments is not easy and takes more time and care to put in. If the artist is impatient, he/she turns the tattoo machine's intensity way up -- which also typically results in chewing up the skin even more and scarring it, if not scarring it even worse. This meant a limited colour selection in which to work with.
Second, the style of the 'new' butterfly left me at a loss. Alicia left the style to me, though she ultimately is the one who confirms the design. I drew a few with black outlines, and a lacy pattern full of curlicues overlapping the coloured wing area to match with the branches. Randy offered another version, that was like a slightly modified but very natural-looking Monarch butterfly.
Alicia looked at me, I looked at her. I think we breathed a simultaneous, inward sigh, and said, "Okay." We pulled up references again, and it was through a mixture of calculation and informed guesswork that the old butterfly was transformed -- or covered up, if you would -- into one with semi tribal outlines, natural-looking veins and colours that, while completely covering the old hues, would render itself as an almost glazed finish.
I wouldn't say it was a walk in the park. First off, the original shape of the butterfly was not symmetrical at all, so we had to keep adjusting lines and thickness according in order to help balance it out as best as we could.
I started out with black ink, running outlines over the old butterfly first. Then, with a single needle, drew and dragged the butterfly veins from the body to the wing. Alicia had been there, between drawing, erasing, redrawing and inking for a few hours already. She sent Andrew to get dinner (which was KFC...yumm!). Randy took over the colour work in the wings, starting with different plums and dark pinks, slowly moving into a purple and I believe, a mild blue at the end.
Here is the end result:
All in all, while I had a little tension in the re-designing of the design, in all honesty, I'm really glad it turned out that way, because the end result was much better than anticipated. After everything was said and done, we cleaned up, wrapped and degloved, washed our hands and sat down to a good ol'fashioned Southern fried chicken dinner.
Alicia's tattoo is healed out now (pending a small touch up), which shows you how long I've dragged out writing this blog. In the meantime, she's brought a friend from Doha to get poked, and I'm in the midst of working another design for another buddy!
With her new digs, new hairstyle and new ink to match... it just sounds to me that Ali is in store for more new, positive things to come.
Time does pass a little quickly when there is more to be done. It was with a mild sense of guilt that I've realised that I've put off a new posting of the blog about a new/old friend who came a-visiting to talk about a repair job for an old tattoo more than a month ago.
A new/old friend, you say? It's not that I cannot make up my mind about the dynamics of a friendship -- it's just that I've met Alicia recently, and yet we seem to go way, way, back. For more details about the first meet, click here:
http://us-skin-grafx.blogspot.com/2011/01/kismet-or-serendipity-ordont-i-know-you.html
Anyway, Ali (as in "Allie", not as in Ali Baba-lah!), visits once in a while, whenever her busy schedule permits. Once, she dropped by bringing 'tong sui' (sweet Chinese soupy desserts) and over mouthfuls of red bean soup and tau fu fah, she told me that her husband Andrew and friends really dig the cherry blossoms, and branches. However, they were also saying that the new ink didn't match with the old ink.
 |
| This is the BEFORE pic of the butterfly., done by Eddie David a few years ago. The lime green edge of the wings were added by me to cover up the faded yellow that was originally there, back when the cherry blossoms were done. |
The first time I tattooed Alicia, the yellow parts of the wing, on the outermost area, were faded to the point that we could barely see them anymore, so we actually decided to run over all of the yellow parts with lime green. The result was there was comparatively more 'pop' to the butterfly after the colour change. However, this time around, Alicia wanted a total overhaul of the butterfly, and her edict was something in the lines of "Just make it look more like a butterfly, and try to match it in with what I already have."
That time, we ended up breaking out some new skin scribes (surgical marking pens) and drawing suggestions directly on her shoulder. However, I strongly felt that overhauling the existing butterfly tattoo required more thinking and consideration than what we were drawing on the spot, so Alicia went home while I screwed on another thinking cap to tackle the issue.
There were a couple of issues I was concerned with. First, there was marked scarring on the skin in certain areas where the original wings had been put in, which means putting certain colours, especially those with large pigments, would be unadvisable. Pumping ink with large pigments is not easy and takes more time and care to put in. If the artist is impatient, he/she turns the tattoo machine's intensity way up -- which also typically results in chewing up the skin even more and scarring it, if not scarring it even worse. This meant a limited colour selection in which to work with.
Second, the style of the 'new' butterfly left me at a loss. Alicia left the style to me, though she ultimately is the one who confirms the design. I drew a few with black outlines, and a lacy pattern full of curlicues overlapping the coloured wing area to match with the branches. Randy offered another version, that was like a slightly modified but very natural-looking Monarch butterfly.
On the day itself, we presented a version both of us (finally) agreed on. Personally, I wasn't crazy about the design due to the original, we were a limited in fixing it.
Alicia bared her shoulder and I set to drawing on her skin first. When I was almost done, Randy (who was talking to Andrew, Ali's husband) was called over to take a look. First, he looked at it. Then his brow furrowed. From experience, I knew this would lead to one of two things: Either he would completely agree and give a thumbs up, or we were in for another complete change.
 |
| DURING: At the halfway point, after the butterfly has been completely relined and veins and outline added in. Alicia is prone on the bed :P |
First, he went, "Hm," with his fist against his chin. Then he went "Hmmmmm." And then.... he went, "No. No no no no no. Scrub the markings off, we're doing this another way!"
Alicia looked at me, I looked at her. I think we breathed a simultaneous, inward sigh, and said, "Okay." We pulled up references again, and it was through a mixture of calculation and informed guesswork that the old butterfly was transformed -- or covered up, if you would -- into one with semi tribal outlines, natural-looking veins and colours that, while completely covering the old hues, would render itself as an almost glazed finish.
I wouldn't say it was a walk in the park. First off, the original shape of the butterfly was not symmetrical at all, so we had to keep adjusting lines and thickness according in order to help balance it out as best as we could.
I started out with black ink, running outlines over the old butterfly first. Then, with a single needle, drew and dragged the butterfly veins from the body to the wing. Alicia had been there, between drawing, erasing, redrawing and inking for a few hours already. She sent Andrew to get dinner (which was KFC...yumm!). Randy took over the colour work in the wings, starting with different plums and dark pinks, slowly moving into a purple and I believe, a mild blue at the end.
Here is the end result:
 |
| AFTER: Complete change, except for the original body. I had to follow the original freehand antennae. Plus, more flowers were added. Victim, I mean, client happy :) |
All in all, while I had a little tension in the re-designing of the design, in all honesty, I'm really glad it turned out that way, because the end result was much better than anticipated. After everything was said and done, we cleaned up, wrapped and degloved, washed our hands and sat down to a good ol'fashioned Southern fried chicken dinner.
Alicia's tattoo is healed out now (pending a small touch up), which shows you how long I've dragged out writing this blog. In the meantime, she's brought a friend from Doha to get poked, and I'm in the midst of working another design for another buddy!
With her new digs, new hairstyle and new ink to match... it just sounds to me that Ali is in store for more new, positive things to come.
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Helena and the Tree of Life
 |
| The finished tree of life. Sorry...tattoo is straight but the camera angle ain't! Will post outline when I dig it out of my camera. |
EEKOON:
Some of ya'll readers who follow this blog might remember that a couple of months ago, Randy and I decided to do our part and chip in to help raise funds for a LGBT (Lesbian/Gay/Bi/Trans) benefit held near the shop back on Feb 12.
For those who want to read about our thoughts before and after the event called Justice for Sisters, the links are as below:
Pre-event ponderings:
http://us-skin-grafx.blogspot.com/2011/02/right-to-be.html
Post-event thoughts:
http://us-skin-grafx.blogspot.com/2011/02/right-to-be.html
If you'd prefer the short version, here it is: We heard about this fundraiser to help out the local Mak Nyah (male to female transgender) community via an old friend, Central Market Annexe Gallery curator, Seksualiti Merdeka co-founder, gay rights activist and multiple hyphenate Pang Khee Teik. This man is so multi-talented, it makes my head spin. Anyway, a few Facebook posts, a couple of e-mails, a couple of phone calls and we were officially committed. The second Justice for Sisters show featured a Dutch auction, in which two prizes, an above-the-belt piercing and a RM1000 tattoo gift certificate from US Skin Grafx were won.
The bidding at the auction for both prizes were as speedy as they were fierce. Not only the audience, but the project staff members and volunteers did their part to help out. The momentum of the Dutch auction, so ably handled by Shelah aka the oh-so-talented Edwin Sumun, especially picked up for the tattoo prize. I remember sitting quietly at the back of Blackbox@MAP (at Solaris Dutamas), and hearing a minor furor behind me as some of the lighting crew went through their change, dug in their pockets and finally produced a winner -- Helena Foo.
It was a noticeably excited Helena that I met at our first consultation, in which she brought printouts of concepts and ideas. I really appreciate clients who take the time to do their own research and offer what they have come up with -- it removes the guessing game of custom drawings, and it allows a quicker insight (for the artist) as to what the person is like, and what would best suit their style and taste. One of her ideas was a figure in motion, as Helena herself is a theatre director with a penchant for physical theatre. In the end, though, we decided on a tree in the middle of her back. I've always loved the concept of branches reaching up into the sky and the interlinked style of Celtic knotwork, so suggested to her why not meld the two together, to create a Celtic tree of life.
It was a good sign, I think, when she jumped on the idea immediately. So measurements were taken, specifics were discussed and the area to cover was confirmed, and I set to drawing the next week. Celtic knotwork almost seems to mix calculated symmetry with randomness, but above all, it has a sense of being the organic and kinetic all in one breath. I drew a few versions and tossed them into the reject pile before coming up with one that had sharp points and rounded ends together. While there are some Celtic trees that are circular, Helena wanted something more natural looking, so I pointed the roots up slightly, and spread the branches out, though root and branch never touch.
Celtic trees of life tend to equally signify foundation -- deep personal roots (note in the pic how they reach wide and low) -- and experiences -- signified, in our version, by branches reaching almost in random towards the sky. It really is one of the few symbols out there that attempt to and succesfully capture life all within a single graphic depiction.
About a fortnight after the consultation, she came to view and approved it on the spot. Due to the size of the piece, we thought it best to split it into two sessions. The tattoo would also try to bring her three existing small back pieces together(on the left and right shoulders as well as one on the nape on the neck). Some of the branches of the Celtic tree would lap over the one on the nape of the neck, a tribal cross done at another tattoo shop in Kuala Lumpur nearby as well.
The first time, we put the outline in over the space of about two and a half hours of inking, talking, and taking a couple of breaks. I had planned to work the detail on the branches a little in the first session, but due to schedules and timing and Helena being savvy enough to listen to her body (a must-read topic we will cover in a future post), decided to leave the shading to the second session. We gingerly put her t-shirt back on and she went home.
Three weeks later, she was back, walking through the door with an anticipatory grin on her face. "Do you think we can finish everything today?" she asked me. Oh hell, yes, girl! We asked her what she had for lunch (as it turns out, not enough), dragged her down to the mamak downstairs where we each wolfed down tea and roti canai, before returning back to the studio for the ink
I started bringing out the greys, the white and we were off to a running start. Each time while tattooing Helena, it felt like time didn't really pass at all, because we kept up a pretty constant flow of conversation. About friends, siblings, parents, lovers, inspirations, aspirations, the past, present and future. (Contrary to the opinion held by a surprising number, not every artist sits in a surly intense silence while the tattoo machine is running. And no, with me, you don't need to talk about just ink) It didn't really dawn upon me that we were done, until I saw my ink caps of grey running low and the only thing left to do were a few white highlight spots.
So, at that point, the only thing left to do was to point Helena to the mirror, snap a couple of photographs. And, of course, help her to gingerly get back into her t -shirt again :)
I called her 3 hours before writing this, to see how she's doing. "It's all healed out already, and it's good," was her report.
For me, the best part about meeting Helena and doing what I do each day, is not only getting to do ink on new skin. In getting to know clients, before, during and after the tattoo, artists, if they so choose, are also exposed to alternate perspectives, different and fresh new ways of thinking and new lessons in approaches to life. You get together and exchange information and experiences, and pretty soon, you're not just talking to a client. Today, we consider ourselves lucky to be able to call her a friend.
For the record, yes, this pretty cool gal is single. And mildly amused at my attempts at helping to find her that someone special. I'm batting zero at this point, but if ya'll readers know a similarly nice, laidback, intelligent girl that might make my friend happy, be sure to let us know!
Hasty disclaimer!!!! US Skin Grafx does NOT matchmake. Instead, we just throw people together for the hell of it, and for some odd reason, some pretty great results occur. (We have had similar experiences with Randy's shop in the United States in the past)
Helena Foo is currently working on a very cool theatre project that is currently in its planning stage. Look out for this young lady's name in the future. I've a feeling that it will, quite soon, make waves.
Friday, April 15, 2011
The first cut ain't the deepest (not with us, anyway)
EK:
I love virgins. (At this point, will all my friends on Facebook kindly refrain from cheeky comments... thank you! LOL)
Without sounding too jaded, depraved or downright creepy, let me clarify the previous statement. I love tattoo virgins. You know, the kind of individuals who have always wanted to get a tattoo, or are preparing to get their first piece of ink and have absolutely no inkling (aha!) of what the experience entails.
Randy and I have always concurred on the notion that a person's first tattoo experience often colours his or her future pieces of ink. If you got chewed up and scarred in your first tattoo, or if the artist was a heavy-handed mofo that had a sadistic streak, or if you felt that you were working with someone you disliked or at the very least were not very comfortable with, it doesn't make you very inclined to get more ink in the future.
Of course, every ink enthusiast was a virgin once -- and while most of us attest to the incredible addictiveness of needing to have your next tattoo, a few of us successfully resist the saying 'this one's going to be my first and last one' -- every single one of us remembers getting our first tattoo. Randy got piece no. 1 and no. 2 within the space of 24 hours (come by and ask him to tell you that particular story some time), which was proof positive of a happy experience in someone's tattoo chair.
I waited about seven or eight years between my first and second. My first was gotten when I was still a university student, and was pretty ignorant about properly preparing to get tattooed.
Maybe I should just take a side bet with the hubby to see when he calls to discuss his next piece :)
I love virgins. (At this point, will all my friends on Facebook kindly refrain from cheeky comments... thank you! LOL)
Without sounding too jaded, depraved or downright creepy, let me clarify the previous statement. I love tattoo virgins. You know, the kind of individuals who have always wanted to get a tattoo, or are preparing to get their first piece of ink and have absolutely no inkling (aha!) of what the experience entails.
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| Walking ya'l through the process. First, the sketches, drafts and linework on my messy desk |
Randy and I have always concurred on the notion that a person's first tattoo experience often colours his or her future pieces of ink. If you got chewed up and scarred in your first tattoo, or if the artist was a heavy-handed mofo that had a sadistic streak, or if you felt that you were working with someone you disliked or at the very least were not very comfortable with, it doesn't make you very inclined to get more ink in the future.
Of course, every ink enthusiast was a virgin once -- and while most of us attest to the incredible addictiveness of needing to have your next tattoo, a few of us successfully resist the saying 'this one's going to be my first and last one' -- every single one of us remembers getting our first tattoo. Randy got piece no. 1 and no. 2 within the space of 24 hours (come by and ask him to tell you that particular story some time), which was proof positive of a happy experience in someone's tattoo chair.
I waited about seven or eight years between my first and second. My first was gotten when I was still a university student, and was pretty ignorant about properly preparing to get tattooed.
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| After a shave, a stencil |
First, to drum up the money, I worked the tables at an Italian `godfathers' catering service. Now, by 'my Italian godfather', I meant that I received this familial connection in a roundabout manner -- his daughter was my classmate and a good friend, and the family adopted me as one of their own that they regularly fed, hugged, loved on and spoiled, not that I became a member of La Cosa Nostra.
Then, I drummed up the research by roping in the (willing help of) my aunt on a Sunday afternoon where we did a survey of almost all the tattoo shops in the city. There weren't many at the time, so it was a short trip. The thing I remembered most clearly about it was knocking on someone's apartment door, and when the door opened, I took one look, turned green and exited the premises -- perhaps a propituous experience as any self-respecting professional does NOT work of their apartment but a licensed shop -- at least, in the United States -- especially when they were starting out and didn't know anything about asceptic technique, hygiene and sterilisation.
Finally, to drum up courage -- and here's where I made my two big mistakes, folks -- I waited until I finished exams... and then proceeded to drink three gin and tonics in rapid succession on an empty stomach. Revved up with Dutch courage, and a mad determination to "do something that I get to hide from my parents", I picked out a tribal ankh and asked the artist, Jay Primeau (then of Primal Art studio) to plant it on my lumbar area.
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| Midway through the lining... sorry, picture senget... |
Speaking of first times, we've noticed that tribal tattoos tend to be a popular choice for a first tattoo, on both sides of the Pacific. Come to think of it, both Randy's and my first piece was either tribal or had tribal elements in it. Frankly, you just can't go wrong with classic black and black always looks fantastic, no matter what colour your skin is.
A majority of tattoo artists, by seeming habit, have an aversion -- how strong or mild it is depends on the individual -- to doing tribal. This is because it's done in one colour, and after running our machines, dipping into the same cap of black ink, and doing it over and over and over... it gets kind of, well, mindless. To date, I will never forget how I suckered myself (when I thought I was being pretty slick) into a 3.5 hour horror of an experience pumping tribal black ink into a large, no, gigantic Epsilon sign for a guy who wanted his fraternity symbol to span half his back.
That story comes another day -- in fact, Randy loves telling that story while I cringe in mild mortification, In actuality, most artists also have a specific strategy when it comes to dealing with tribal...they combat the monotony of the movement with minor mental strategies to while the time away. For me, I time it every five minutes or so, to see how much more is left before all the areas are covered black.
Aylwin, 28, visited US Skin Grafx about 10 days ago, for a consultation for his first piece, on his leg. He wanted a tribal piece, incorporating his first name in way that suggested something more abstract yet retained a sense of clarity. We regularly try to move away from the norm, and reviewed some of the different options available to him.
Randy brought out different versions of how to dress up traditional tribal and pretty soon, we were circling the concept of turning tribal lines into cracked stone or carved stoned with a marbled texture. Aylwin dropped a deposit and we were set to work on the design. Between the two of us, we drew two different versions. It wasn't long before the concept began taking a life of its own and the process of designing and creating naturally evolved into something new, and the end result -- intertwining layers, and different textures came about.
While Aylwin started out wanting a direct all-black tribal piece, the design moved into layering and overlapping different parts to show the differences between traditional tribal, cracked stone in greyscale and his own initial in colour. Regarding the sensation of the tattoo needles themselves, Aylwin had a tiny bit of trepidation as to how they would feel, but after a bloodline test (where the tattoo needle is dipped into water, not ink thereby not leaving a scar), all that flew out of the window.
At 'press time', he is still sitting for his tattoo, and the all-black areas have been worked on, leaving the stonework and the colour, and it's off for a quick cigarette before finishing up. Breaks are welcome to both clients and artists, because it allows opportunity for both parties to take a breather and relax.
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| All done. White highlights obscured under the redness, so we're waiting to see it when it's all healed :) |
As for Aylwin himself, he was interested when he first came for the consultation. He was both thoughtful and excited after viewing his design and during the entire process itself was really relaxed. In fact, at the time of typing this (and waiting for the eventual results to be photographed), he is currently staring into space and sprawled on the shop's tattoo bed. The endorphins are probably flowing good and well at this point, because he's got a semi-dreamy grin on his face...but let that be our little secret until he discovers this blog post and reads it.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Artistic appreciation of another artist.
This is a blog about art, so this entry should fit quite well with the rest of the fare. My wife and I went to a restaurant recently that is quite spoken of online in food reviews and blogs from just about every imaginable angle. The restaurant is "Checkers" in Damansara Heights. After coming home from there, I just wanted to read some of what is online about the place as I found the experience absolutely extraordinary.
I noticed right away that many of the bloggers had labeled Mr Tan, the owner, as being "quite eccentric". I believe it was Robert Frost who said that "Eccentricity is simply passion that runs so deep and true that it is simply unfathomable to anyone other than he whose every action is testament to it". Within moments of our arrival, having briefly been introduced to Mr Tan, I realized the truth in Frost's words.
When I go to a restaurant, I do not go to have my ego stroked or my backside kissed. I go to enjoy the wonders that good food can bestow upon my palate. Seeing the passion in Mr Tan had my taste buds threatening to mutiny and drag me into the kitchen, tongue first! When the food arrived, we were not disappointed, though I must say there was some severe physical pain involved in the experience. The idea of leaving there once we were finished wrenched at every corner of my body and being.
In other posts here, I have noted what I consider to be the definition of art. Art is those things which temporarily take you out of your own realm of perceptions, and allow you to experience something through the sensory faculties and perceptions of the artist who created it. Art imparts upon the observer the passion, the desire, the emotion of the artist who created it. Given that definition, I cannot help but define the food we had as art, and the man responsible for that food as an artist worthy of the company of Picasso, Rembrandt, Beethoven, and Michelangelo.
We asked what he recommended rather than ordering from the menu, though I have no doubt that whatever we had ordered would have sated our palates, bodies and minds to the same euphoric degree. Mr Tan recommended a pizza for starters, a salad and Jamaican jerk chicken. In the interest of allowing the readers of this post time to sleep before having to head out for their days tomorrow, suffice it to say that the pizza was absolutely and without a doubt the best I have ever had. It could not have been more perfect. The crust just the right thickness to compliment the sauce and toppings, the sauce hand-spiced with oregano and other savory flavors that blossomed upon the tongue as they engaged tastes from the cheeses and other toppings in an intricately choreographed dance on the palate... Oh, how I could go on!
Next up was the salad, a blend of greens and carrot strips, jicama and other tantalizing goodies that grouped themselves together on the plate like the work of a fine architect. Every curve, every line, every color and texture the epitome of absolute vegetable bliss. The balsamic dressing just barely there, bringing out the flavors and textures of the vegetables rather than trying to hide them. In a single-worded description: Stunning! Of course, I now realize that the salad being served between the pizza and the chicken was actually a tactical manoeuver. It cleared the palate as well as a good wine, whilst leaving it's own wonderful mark upon my memory.
The jerked chicken. I say it, and just as I typed it here, I need to add a final punctuation if for no other reason than to allow me a monent to catch my breath. The Jerked Chicken. Fantastically moist in a way that complimented the -VERY Jamaican- spice rub, just a bit salty, very savory, and absolutely perfect with the smoky essence added from grilling rather than baking. Perfection, I think, in jerked chicken, is chicken rubbed just so with Jamaican Rub spices so that the skin assails the palate momentarily, and the only-lightly seasoned meat slowly blends in, calming the storm on the taste buds from a tropical gale to a light mist dangling in the air on a warm day. Only after one has swallowed the mouthful of goodness does he realize how casually the transition from storm to calm occurred; that realization simply adding to the magic of the experience.
If you prefer ego-stroking, flirting wait staff, pictures of old rock and roll icons on the walls and dividers between the booths topped with tropical plants, and food made to directions from a book, then by all means, enjoy yourself at any of the many many chain restaurants around KL. If you're less concerned about the "ambiance" and more into eating a custom culinary creation of symphonic resonance, Checkers is where you want to be tonight!
Seating is a bit limited and reservations are a great idea even on the slowest of weeknights, but think of it like this; for once you'll be calling to make reservations because the food is worth the effort rather than because the restaurant feels entitled to it due to the "status" of being seen there. Enjoy, and keep art flowing free, wherever you are!
You can reach Checkers at 03 2095 3304
Their address is:
19 Lorong Setiabistari 2
50490 Kuala Lumpur
and so everyone can find them, click here --------> http://maps.google.com.my/maps/place?rls=com.microsoft:en-us&oe=UTF-8&startIndex=&startPage=1&redir_esc=&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=checkers+restaurant+in+kuala+lumpur&fb=1&gl=my&hq=checkers+restaurant&hnear=Kuala+Lumpur,+Federal+Territory+of+Kuala+Lumpur&cid=10448993651687675769
I noticed right away that many of the bloggers had labeled Mr Tan, the owner, as being "quite eccentric". I believe it was Robert Frost who said that "Eccentricity is simply passion that runs so deep and true that it is simply unfathomable to anyone other than he whose every action is testament to it". Within moments of our arrival, having briefly been introduced to Mr Tan, I realized the truth in Frost's words.
When I go to a restaurant, I do not go to have my ego stroked or my backside kissed. I go to enjoy the wonders that good food can bestow upon my palate. Seeing the passion in Mr Tan had my taste buds threatening to mutiny and drag me into the kitchen, tongue first! When the food arrived, we were not disappointed, though I must say there was some severe physical pain involved in the experience. The idea of leaving there once we were finished wrenched at every corner of my body and being.
In other posts here, I have noted what I consider to be the definition of art. Art is those things which temporarily take you out of your own realm of perceptions, and allow you to experience something through the sensory faculties and perceptions of the artist who created it. Art imparts upon the observer the passion, the desire, the emotion of the artist who created it. Given that definition, I cannot help but define the food we had as art, and the man responsible for that food as an artist worthy of the company of Picasso, Rembrandt, Beethoven, and Michelangelo.
We asked what he recommended rather than ordering from the menu, though I have no doubt that whatever we had ordered would have sated our palates, bodies and minds to the same euphoric degree. Mr Tan recommended a pizza for starters, a salad and Jamaican jerk chicken. In the interest of allowing the readers of this post time to sleep before having to head out for their days tomorrow, suffice it to say that the pizza was absolutely and without a doubt the best I have ever had. It could not have been more perfect. The crust just the right thickness to compliment the sauce and toppings, the sauce hand-spiced with oregano and other savory flavors that blossomed upon the tongue as they engaged tastes from the cheeses and other toppings in an intricately choreographed dance on the palate... Oh, how I could go on!
Next up was the salad, a blend of greens and carrot strips, jicama and other tantalizing goodies that grouped themselves together on the plate like the work of a fine architect. Every curve, every line, every color and texture the epitome of absolute vegetable bliss. The balsamic dressing just barely there, bringing out the flavors and textures of the vegetables rather than trying to hide them. In a single-worded description: Stunning! Of course, I now realize that the salad being served between the pizza and the chicken was actually a tactical manoeuver. It cleared the palate as well as a good wine, whilst leaving it's own wonderful mark upon my memory.
The jerked chicken. I say it, and just as I typed it here, I need to add a final punctuation if for no other reason than to allow me a monent to catch my breath. The Jerked Chicken. Fantastically moist in a way that complimented the -VERY Jamaican- spice rub, just a bit salty, very savory, and absolutely perfect with the smoky essence added from grilling rather than baking. Perfection, I think, in jerked chicken, is chicken rubbed just so with Jamaican Rub spices so that the skin assails the palate momentarily, and the only-lightly seasoned meat slowly blends in, calming the storm on the taste buds from a tropical gale to a light mist dangling in the air on a warm day. Only after one has swallowed the mouthful of goodness does he realize how casually the transition from storm to calm occurred; that realization simply adding to the magic of the experience.
If you prefer ego-stroking, flirting wait staff, pictures of old rock and roll icons on the walls and dividers between the booths topped with tropical plants, and food made to directions from a book, then by all means, enjoy yourself at any of the many many chain restaurants around KL. If you're less concerned about the "ambiance" and more into eating a custom culinary creation of symphonic resonance, Checkers is where you want to be tonight!
Seating is a bit limited and reservations are a great idea even on the slowest of weeknights, but think of it like this; for once you'll be calling to make reservations because the food is worth the effort rather than because the restaurant feels entitled to it due to the "status" of being seen there. Enjoy, and keep art flowing free, wherever you are!
You can reach Checkers at 03 2095 3304
Their address is:
19 Lorong Setiabistari 2
50490 Kuala Lumpur
and so everyone can find them, click here --------> http://maps.google.com.my/maps/place?rls=com.microsoft:en-us&oe=UTF-8&startIndex=&startPage=1&redir_esc=&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=checkers+restaurant+in+kuala+lumpur&fb=1&gl=my&hq=checkers+restaurant&hnear=Kuala+Lumpur,+Federal+Territory+of+Kuala+Lumpur&cid=10448993651687675769
Thursday, March 10, 2011
"Why?" vs "Why not!"
Boy, it has been about three weeks or so since we've updated the blog. There have been bunches of projects and events and people keeping us busy, occupied and out of trouble, for which I cannot complain. So while the backlog of stories to share with readers here slowly pile up, we continue
designing, drawing, tattooing and after work, do anything but get back onto the computer to do more work. There will be more pictures to share with the accompanying story, and while my camera hand is noticeably shy (and lazy and forgetful), they will get told!
Some people think long and hard to get their one and only. (as an aside, very seldom does it end up being the only one... anyone who's had a tattoo knows exactly how addictive they are). Others get it just because. Both reasons are perfectly valid, completely acceptable and totally something I do
respect.Trust me when I say that I will not keep my mouth shut when I get a request that has got potential to change someone's life for the worse (like the dreaded mistake of tattooing someone's name on your body who could be your ex one day). People might not like to hear the little "don't do this" speech, but hey, it's
better to be silently thanked in the future than cursed soundly and repeatedly in the near future. But back to topic: speaking of reasons to get a tattoo... well, there are really so many, right? Sometimes, to represent a phase. Or a passing phase. Sometimes to represent a loved one, or even the person wearing it itself. Sometimes to show belief, or respect, or tribute. And sometimes, just because it's a nice looking piece and the client would like to wear it.
Two examples of these were done recently, both on the same area of the clients' bodies. I got a call from Clement, who works downtown, who wanted a lotus flower on the back of her shoulder. A keen Buddhist, the lotus was an apt summing up of her religious beliefs. She had wanted to know the price off the phone, and ended up coming for a consultation.
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| Clement's lotus, freshly done |
A careful lady, Clement asked many questions -- the pain factor, the healing process, the preparation and the entire experience. I appreciate that, for one, because it showed that she wanted to understand what she wanted from the get-go and would leave no stone unturned. One question that did strike me was that she wondered if she was past the age to get ink. No, I told her, nobody is too old, only too young (if you're below 18). The oldest woman I've tattooed, in fact, was in her early 70s in Augusta. It was her second one, and she thought it was a total hoot to get ink again -- and we had a blast doing it.
More significantly, she said she was doing this as a gesture for herself instead of always doing something for the people in her life -- an affirmation and appreciation for who she is, I suppose. She didn't want it too big, she just wanted something small, nothing flashy, but simple and classic to
remind her of her beliefs. We decided on what to do, and at the end of the week, she came together with two eagerly-curious daughters and one niece in tow (for moral support, I think).
There was a little bit of nervousness over the first few seconds prior to the insertion of the tattoo needles, but she was awfully surprised and how little it hurt when it finally did go in. From someone who was scared of the pain, it was a far cry to have this lady calm and totally relaxed in the chair while the outline went in. When we did the shading and the soft shades of pink in the flower, not only did she comment on how much less she felt the needles but that it didn't even hurt. Really a nice compliment!
By the time we were done, she was running on a good load of endorphins and smiling. As for me, I had fun myself as I'm also a fellow Buddhist and a firm believer in karma, who tries to navigate through the semantically murky religious texts. We exchanged information on rituals, approaches, where to worship and (unsurprisingly) where to eat nearby. She called me a week later after, to let me know that the healing was going well, and she looks at her lotus often, with a smile.
On the other spectrum of "why I need this tattoo", we had another group of clients come visit one weekend, and while they were shuffling through the flash and looking at designs, one of them, Ah Heng, picked up a sheet that had elf faces -- and one that I've been wanting
to do for a while.
"You like this one, huh?" I asked him, trying to fish for a reason.
"Yeah, I do," he said, proferring the rationale: "I like it." And that was it.
Well, you couldn't fault that, or fault him. It was an enigmatic face, slightly preternatural, not conventionally pretty but quite haunting. It was the look in the eyes, which you could read a thousand ways. Was she hurt, or sensitive, or seductive? Was she reflective or to create an illusion?
She had fair hair, a tiara and Randy suggested colouring the eyes to give it an accent of light and iridescence.
"Would you like a natural look or the faerie look?" I asked him.
"Half and half," he said. (not a man of many words, Ah Heng)
"Um. What colour in the eyes would you like?"
"I don't know."
(and after looking at our colours of ink).... "How about blue or green... clean tones, nothing muddy?"
"Blue." (silently, I was plumping for green, but oh well)
"Light blue, teal blue, medium blue or....?"
"Medium." okay.
And so it was on. Style-wise it was completely different than the lotus, with watery blood lines, and grey shades to give texture and depth. But unlike a lot of grey-heavy pieces, we opted to go a little more stark and light in the shading, to give the eyes a more effective 'lilt', if you know what I'm talking about. The thing about pieces without a bold outline is that the result is never apparent, or even half-apparent.... you only get to see it emerge slowly under the tattoo machine when the differing shades come out.
Unlike Clement's tattoo experience, Ah Heng and I didn't really exchange a word throughout the entire tattoo. When it was done, he stood before the mirror. He just stood there, staring at it for a long time and not saying a word. At least, until I asked him if he wanted to get bandaged so he could put his shirt back on.
Ah Heng went home happy, yup. He called me a couple of days ago, saying he was coming by for another tattoo. Sometimes, though, I wonder, just like Clement, how many times he looks at his ink in the mirror. Just like how she does with her lotus.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Reality; what a concept!
Saturday night, my wife and I attended, and sponsored auctioned tattoo and piercing prizes, at The Justice For Sisters gathering at Map KL in Solaris Dutamas. This was our way of trying to help out with what we feel is a very worthy cause, and let me tell you why.
That night, I looked around me, and I saw a room full of *people*. People who contribute to the community. People who hold jobs. People who live, love, laugh and cry. These people are not liars, nor manipulators, nor are they asking for anything unreasonable. And yet they are punished for their honesty.
They came to the event, facing retribution, facing public humiliation at the hands of a society that has passed judgment before ever taking the time and effort to get to know them. These people are showing the rest of us that there is an alternative to living a lie, and trying to be someone you're not in your heart.
Every day, we celebrate some person or persons for being true to themselves, for being honest, for doing the right thing. At the event, we had an opportunity to *be* one of those people we celebrate. To stand united and say *no* to those who would ask honest people to lie about who they are.
They weren't asking for a handout. They were asking for help in setting the stage for the future; *your* future, my future, our families' future. There come many times in life that we are forced to decide whether to do what we feel in our hearts is right, or cow down and do what society has *declared* is right; even though we know it to be wrong.
Among the acts, there was one I feel I should mention here. It was a lone gent who stood before the crowd and sang an a'capella version of Minnie Ripperton's "Loving You". Musically, I didn't find anything about his performance to be something I would want to repeat. Members of the audience laughed and jeered, while one man in the back row shouted "Wanker!" at the top of his lungs several times. Other members of the audience tried to hush them, and stood up for the man's right to perform in his own way.
At one point, someone in the audience started clapping in rhythm, and several people began to sing along with what was somewhere around the eighth repeat of the same two verses of the song. Interestingly enough, as they began to join in, his tone and inflection improved dramatically for a handful of notes. He came out of his shell and let his voice out to play, too. The encouragement had apparently triggered something within, and for that short series of notes, our ears were no longer assailed. Instead they were stimulated.
Upon realizing that, for the first time in his performance, he "had it", the crowd stopped singing along so they could hear what was now bordering on enjoyable, and his musical ability disappeared entirely once more. And again came the shouts of "Wanker!", and "We get the point!". Yet, he continued, until he was finished, heedless of the notable disapproval from the audience.
I had started to rise from my chair as the man behind me shouted "Wanker!", intensely offended by his behavior without understanding why the desire to introduce my foot to his ass was so strong. My wife, seated next to me, clasped my hand and whispered to me, "It could be part of the show", as she knew what I was about to do. I settled back into my seat, realizing she could be right.
It didn't really come clear to me until I awoke the following morning, and I realized that this performance was perhaps the most brilliant chess game I had ever seen played. If it indeed had been a game of chess, it would be written of in history books, celebrated by newspapers, and shared in coffeehouse chat for years to come.
This man, regardless of the fact that he could not sing, got up in front of the crowd and sang something that was meaningful to him, and though annoying to the spectators, what he was doing truly didn't harm anyone. And yet a group of people who were gathered in an effort to stop others from punishing and chastising people whose behavoir and choices weren't to the liking of "the majority", but hurt no one, were all induced into behaving just as the people they were uniting against. They passed judgment on him and acted "accordingly".
This man did not, however, give up. He continued to do what he had come to do, steadfastly refusing to leave the stage or stop singing until he was finished, even though doing so made him a "social outcast". In fact, he displayed the same determination and drive that was being celebrated and defended by the event itself.
Meanwhile, there was the fact that for that few seconds that the audience responded in such a way that a little support was shown, his voice suddenly blossomed into something that wasn't starworthy, but was deserving of some appreciation in it's own right. Something everyone noticed enough that they stopped sharing in the singing because they wanted to hear more of the performer, now that he "had it". And once the backing fell away, so did the newfound vocal quality. It was like watching a heart begin to beat firmly, overcoming uncertainty, only to have that rythm capsized by expectations from the audience that he could do it alone, and entertain us from then on without assistance.
I didn't catch the name of the performer, though I do recall in his introduction the MC, Edwin Sumun, aka "Shelah", stated something to the effect of "I don't know how to describe this next act...".
It was absolutely brilliant. It painted a personalized porttrait of what the "lady boys" faced every day of their lives. It brought it home in such a way that it allowed me to view it through their eyes. My definition of "Art" is anything, be it sculpted, painted, written, drawn, or otherwise protrayed in any manner, that causes a mental shift and takes you behind the perceptive faculties of the artist. This man, the momentary epitome of what the group was there to support, *is* my definition of art, and I thank him for stimulating my thinking in a way no other act that night did.
People's contributions saturday night will be used to help establish justice for them, and will eventually help each and every person in Malaysia be able to make the better choice, to live free and true to ourselves, whomever we may be.
That night, I looked around me, and I saw a room full of *people*. People who contribute to the community. People who hold jobs. People who live, love, laugh and cry. These people are not liars, nor manipulators, nor are they asking for anything unreasonable. And yet they are punished for their honesty.
They came to the event, facing retribution, facing public humiliation at the hands of a society that has passed judgment before ever taking the time and effort to get to know them. These people are showing the rest of us that there is an alternative to living a lie, and trying to be someone you're not in your heart.
Every day, we celebrate some person or persons for being true to themselves, for being honest, for doing the right thing. At the event, we had an opportunity to *be* one of those people we celebrate. To stand united and say *no* to those who would ask honest people to lie about who they are.
They weren't asking for a handout. They were asking for help in setting the stage for the future; *your* future, my future, our families' future. There come many times in life that we are forced to decide whether to do what we feel in our hearts is right, or cow down and do what society has *declared* is right; even though we know it to be wrong.
Among the acts, there was one I feel I should mention here. It was a lone gent who stood before the crowd and sang an a'capella version of Minnie Ripperton's "Loving You". Musically, I didn't find anything about his performance to be something I would want to repeat. Members of the audience laughed and jeered, while one man in the back row shouted "Wanker!" at the top of his lungs several times. Other members of the audience tried to hush them, and stood up for the man's right to perform in his own way.
At one point, someone in the audience started clapping in rhythm, and several people began to sing along with what was somewhere around the eighth repeat of the same two verses of the song. Interestingly enough, as they began to join in, his tone and inflection improved dramatically for a handful of notes. He came out of his shell and let his voice out to play, too. The encouragement had apparently triggered something within, and for that short series of notes, our ears were no longer assailed. Instead they were stimulated.
Upon realizing that, for the first time in his performance, he "had it", the crowd stopped singing along so they could hear what was now bordering on enjoyable, and his musical ability disappeared entirely once more. And again came the shouts of "Wanker!", and "We get the point!". Yet, he continued, until he was finished, heedless of the notable disapproval from the audience.
I had started to rise from my chair as the man behind me shouted "Wanker!", intensely offended by his behavior without understanding why the desire to introduce my foot to his ass was so strong. My wife, seated next to me, clasped my hand and whispered to me, "It could be part of the show", as she knew what I was about to do. I settled back into my seat, realizing she could be right.
It didn't really come clear to me until I awoke the following morning, and I realized that this performance was perhaps the most brilliant chess game I had ever seen played. If it indeed had been a game of chess, it would be written of in history books, celebrated by newspapers, and shared in coffeehouse chat for years to come.
This man, regardless of the fact that he could not sing, got up in front of the crowd and sang something that was meaningful to him, and though annoying to the spectators, what he was doing truly didn't harm anyone. And yet a group of people who were gathered in an effort to stop others from punishing and chastising people whose behavoir and choices weren't to the liking of "the majority", but hurt no one, were all induced into behaving just as the people they were uniting against. They passed judgment on him and acted "accordingly".
This man did not, however, give up. He continued to do what he had come to do, steadfastly refusing to leave the stage or stop singing until he was finished, even though doing so made him a "social outcast". In fact, he displayed the same determination and drive that was being celebrated and defended by the event itself.
Meanwhile, there was the fact that for that few seconds that the audience responded in such a way that a little support was shown, his voice suddenly blossomed into something that wasn't starworthy, but was deserving of some appreciation in it's own right. Something everyone noticed enough that they stopped sharing in the singing because they wanted to hear more of the performer, now that he "had it". And once the backing fell away, so did the newfound vocal quality. It was like watching a heart begin to beat firmly, overcoming uncertainty, only to have that rythm capsized by expectations from the audience that he could do it alone, and entertain us from then on without assistance.
I didn't catch the name of the performer, though I do recall in his introduction the MC, Edwin Sumun, aka "Shelah", stated something to the effect of "I don't know how to describe this next act...".
It was absolutely brilliant. It painted a personalized porttrait of what the "lady boys" faced every day of their lives. It brought it home in such a way that it allowed me to view it through their eyes. My definition of "Art" is anything, be it sculpted, painted, written, drawn, or otherwise protrayed in any manner, that causes a mental shift and takes you behind the perceptive faculties of the artist. This man, the momentary epitome of what the group was there to support, *is* my definition of art, and I thank him for stimulating my thinking in a way no other act that night did.
People's contributions saturday night will be used to help establish justice for them, and will eventually help each and every person in Malaysia be able to make the better choice, to live free and true to ourselves, whomever we may be.
Monday, February 7, 2011
The Right To Be
First things first: we just want to wish all and sundry a very Happy Chinese New Year! May the year of the Rabbit bring everyone joy, good health and prosperity and some rockin' ink!
EK:
US Skin Grafx is sponsoring tattoo prizes this Saturday, at a fundraiser held right around the corner of the shop, at MAP@KL at Solaris Dutamas, to help raise some money to help Mak Nyahs. Friends new and old, readers, whoever you are, are more than welcome and indeed, encouraged to come and lend a little help at this event, which will feature punk rockers, indie music, poetry readings and an auction featuring tattoo prizes (from us!!!)
NOTE: More details on the event at the bottom of this blog post. Don't miss it!!!! COME TO THE EVENT LAH!!!
I found out about Justice for our Sisters festival via a Facebook post from my old friend, the activist, curator, writer and arts supporter, the dashing-and-articulate Mr. Pang Khee Teik of the Annexe Gallery in Central Market.
I was a teenager when I met my first Mak Nyah. Mum found a new hairdresser who had just quit a large saloon in Petaling Jaya. He worked out of a house, and did a really good job. More importantly (as my parents were saving up every spare penny to for their kids to study overseas), he was cheap. "His name's Charlie (not the real name). He's slightly cha boh heng (effeminate) but don't let that deter you. He'll look at your face and figure and recommend what's best for you. I'm definitely happy with my hair," she said that to other relatives and friends.
A few of my aunts went to him, and so did I. Charlie greeted clients in flamboyant clothes -- harem pants, colourful tops. In time, the cut of his clothes became softer and he dared to use make-up. One time, he met one of my aunts in full make up, a fresh manicure, a bustier and silk skirt. She got her hair done, then relayed the experience gleefully to me. In turn, I relayed the incident (gleefully, too) to my mother.
To my surprise, mum chided me. "You don't need to say things like that," she said a bit roughly. Mum was a lot more understanding to what Charlie was going through. Then she added, "He's not had it easy. As a little boy, his father beat him and scolded him because he would rather play with dolls than football with the rest of the boys. Today, he doesn't speak to anyone but his mother because everyone else in his family won't accept him. By the way, he hasn't seen his family in 8 years, even though he has been sending money back regularly. They accept the money, but they won't accept him."
Charlie changed his gender and his name. Not legally (for laws still do not allow that). "But you can call me Cheryl" (again, not the real name). After a few years of being Cheryl, she took the big step: she worked like a madwoman to save money for the operation. And when she had enough for it, she booked herself an appointment and a return plane ticket. When she returned home, she was an anatomically-correct, truly complete Cheryl.
Cheryl's story has a happy ending. She met a nice man, and married him in a lavish ceremony. By the way, her family reconciled with her. Hard to not give face to friends, in the face of a truly happy bride who worked and fought for what she wanted, and after many hardships, got what she wanted.
She now lives abroad, and we hope, happily. We wish her well. This is a true story.
I just wanted to note that a number of my transgender friends mother-hen'ed me, to my initial surprise. "Lose some weight, la, you'll be so much prettier". "You already got a bust, you no need to take hormone injection, you make the best of the rest la". "Better put some lipstick on, you look tired. Last night never sleep is it???," were some of the memorable quips I received.
.I'm neither a bleeding heart nor an activist; but I strongly believe that a person has a right to be who they are, so long as they aren't directly harming anyone, what does it matter?
BACK TO THE EVENT: Justice For the Sisters festival is held from 2pm to 10pm at Solaris Dutamas's MAP@KL, block A5 (about where Kencana Petroleum is at), 1, Jalan Dutamas 1, 50480 Kuala Lumpur on SATURDAY, Feb 12, 2011.
Entry to the event is via donation at the door. From 2pm to 4pm, entry is RM10 to watch acts like Jeannys&The Melody, Chill please!, Corporate Youth, Kaptain, The Fays and Swampy Zombie Fever.
Following an hour-long break, the next run of shows is from 5pm to 7pm, and is priced at RM15, featuring acts like Dung, Elektrikasyok (Elaine Foster), Furniture, Furious George + Operasi Sabo, Illya Sumanto, Krisis Halusinasi, Priya K and Think! Tadpole! Think!
Part of the show (in the evening, it has been told) will be hosted by amazon goddess and local drag icon, SHELAH, who would surely be helping to rev up the crowd in her own inimitable way. SHELAH hosts the 8pm to 10pm show, featuring Dara Othman, Davina Goh, Ferns, Kathleen Choo, KG, Meichern, Nabila Nasir, PT's Angels, Reza Salleh, Sheena, Tanjong, Tshiung Han See. Chi Too & the Buka Kolektif will also make an appearance at
the event.
While door prices have been specified, guests and visitors are also encouraged to donate more if they so wish in order to support the cause. I believe (And will confirm in an update on Facebook and/or here) US Skin Grafx tattoo prizes will be auctioned at the 5pm to 7pm slots, and 8pm to 10pm slots.
EK:
We've fielded a few requests before and just after the first two days of CNY to do a few tats, and some of them were made to mark a new phase in life, particularly after having come through a difficult one.
Speaking of having a difficult time, I'd like to highlight a sector of Malaysian society who often, if not always, never had it easy -- the marginalised and misunderstood transexuals of this country. It is particularly difficult for the men-to-women transgender folk colloquially called Mak Nyah.
NOTE: More details on the event at the bottom of this blog post. Don't miss it!!!! COME TO THE EVENT LAH!!!
I found out about Justice for our Sisters festival via a Facebook post from my old friend, the activist, curator, writer and arts supporter, the dashing-and-articulate Mr. Pang Khee Teik of the Annexe Gallery in Central Market.
Back in the USA, we fairly regularly contributed vouchers and gift certs to help benefit Greystone Ranch, a wildlife rescue ranch and sanctuary, a local community club and various support groups. Randy mentioned that we should help out for this transgender fundraiser, and I asked him why.
"Because," my husband replied, "they are just trying to be themselves and express who they are without fear or favour. That's hand-in-hand with what tattoos are all about. Freedom of self-expression and the right to be who you are - straight, gay, bi, trans, whatever. People are people. Isn't that why we do what we do as artists?"
After emailing organisers Angela and Thilaga with my proposal, I took a couple of days to reflect upon this event. I came to realise that we're doing this not just to help out a good cause. We all have friends who might, one day in the future, benefit in more ways than one from everyone's efforts today.
I was a teenager when I met my first Mak Nyah. Mum found a new hairdresser who had just quit a large saloon in Petaling Jaya. He worked out of a house, and did a really good job. More importantly (as my parents were saving up every spare penny to for their kids to study overseas), he was cheap. "His name's Charlie (not the real name). He's slightly cha boh heng (effeminate) but don't let that deter you. He'll look at your face and figure and recommend what's best for you. I'm definitely happy with my hair," she said that to other relatives and friends.
A few of my aunts went to him, and so did I. Charlie greeted clients in flamboyant clothes -- harem pants, colourful tops. In time, the cut of his clothes became softer and he dared to use make-up. One time, he met one of my aunts in full make up, a fresh manicure, a bustier and silk skirt. She got her hair done, then relayed the experience gleefully to me. In turn, I relayed the incident (gleefully, too) to my mother.
To my surprise, mum chided me. "You don't need to say things like that," she said a bit roughly. Mum was a lot more understanding to what Charlie was going through. Then she added, "He's not had it easy. As a little boy, his father beat him and scolded him because he would rather play with dolls than football with the rest of the boys. Today, he doesn't speak to anyone but his mother because everyone else in his family won't accept him. By the way, he hasn't seen his family in 8 years, even though he has been sending money back regularly. They accept the money, but they won't accept him."
Later, I was to discover that Charlie often confided in Mum about the mental agony he experienced in being born with physical attributes that he was not in sync with. How he was ostracised by schoolfriends, family members and suchlike when he decided to be himself (they thought he was sick/unnatural/possessed etc). The way he threw himself into every relationship he had because he thought he was so lucky to find a man who would
accept him -- or her --- for who he/she was. The way some of these men would return the favour by sponging off with free meals, nice gifts (clothes/watches/colognes etc) and borrowing money (which was never returned).
Charlie changed his gender and his name. Not legally (for laws still do not allow that). "But you can call me Cheryl" (again, not the real name). After a few years of being Cheryl, she took the big step: she worked like a madwoman to save money for the operation. And when she had enough for it, she booked herself an appointment and a return plane ticket. When she returned home, she was an anatomically-correct, truly complete Cheryl.
Cheryl's story has a happy ending. She met a nice man, and married him in a lavish ceremony. By the way, her family reconciled with her. Hard to not give face to friends, in the face of a truly happy bride who worked and fought for what she wanted, and after many hardships, got what she wanted.
She now lives abroad, and we hope, happily. We wish her well. This is a true story.
Not everyone has a happy ending or has found it, however. In recent times, many have faced gross abuse and persecution from people around them. They've been steadily discriminated against for years. In my previous careers, I've met transgender individuals who go through this, and are forced to lead double lives or hide who they are for fear of being treated badly.
They face up to society's BS with a mixture of defensive scorn, bitterness and dignity. I think many of they have greater strength and perserverance than a great many of the rest of us who are born with the equipment we're perfectly happy with.
I just wanted to note that a number of my transgender friends mother-hen'ed me, to my initial surprise. "Lose some weight, la, you'll be so much prettier". "You already got a bust, you no need to take hormone injection, you make the best of the rest la". "Better put some lipstick on, you look tired. Last night never sleep is it???," were some of the memorable quips I received.
.I'm neither a bleeding heart nor an activist; but I strongly believe that a person has a right to be who they are, so long as they aren't directly harming anyone, what does it matter?
BACK TO THE EVENT: Justice For the Sisters festival is held from 2pm to 10pm at Solaris Dutamas's MAP@KL, block A5 (about where Kencana Petroleum is at), 1, Jalan Dutamas 1, 50480 Kuala Lumpur on SATURDAY, Feb 12, 2011.
Entry to the event is via donation at the door. From 2pm to 4pm, entry is RM10 to watch acts like Jeannys&The Melody, Chill please!, Corporate Youth, Kaptain, The Fays and Swampy Zombie Fever.
Following an hour-long break, the next run of shows is from 5pm to 7pm, and is priced at RM15, featuring acts like Dung, Elektrikasyok (Elaine Foster), Furniture, Furious George + Operasi Sabo, Illya Sumanto, Krisis Halusinasi, Priya K and Think! Tadpole! Think!
Part of the show (in the evening, it has been told) will be hosted by amazon goddess and local drag icon, SHELAH, who would surely be helping to rev up the crowd in her own inimitable way. SHELAH hosts the 8pm to 10pm show, featuring Dara Othman, Davina Goh, Ferns, Kathleen Choo, KG, Meichern, Nabila Nasir, PT's Angels, Reza Salleh, Sheena, Tanjong, Tshiung Han See. Chi Too & the Buka Kolektif will also make an appearance at
the event.
While door prices have been specified, guests and visitors are also encouraged to donate more if they so wish in order to support the cause. I believe (And will confirm in an update on Facebook and/or here) US Skin Grafx tattoo prizes will be auctioned at the 5pm to 7pm slots, and 8pm to 10pm slots.
Justice for Sisters is a human rights campaign, done at the grassroots level. It is organised by concerned members of the public to raise awareness about issues surrounding violence and persecution against the Mak Nyah community in Malaysia. The campaign also aims to raise funds amounting to RM50,000 to finance court cases that have recently been brought up against transgenders currently charged by the Syariah Court. This is the second
such Justice for Sisters event. The inaugural one was held successfully at the Annexe Gallery in Central Market a few weeks ago.
If you can't make it to the festival but would like to donate to the fund or help in other ways, please contact Angela [angela@kryss.org] or Thilaga [thilaga.sulathireh@gmail.com] or let us know via e-mail (us.skin.grafx@gmail.com) so we can help you liaise with them.
THANK YOU FOR READING AND WE HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE!!!!
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Kismet. Or serendipity. Or..."Don't I know you from somewhere?"
A quick prelude: Yes, I know, we've not written in a couple of weeks. Spent a few days down with head colds, then we snuck out of town for a little holiday last week :)
EK:
I believe that in everyone's life, we sometimes meet someone new -- a friend, or a partner, or a lover, or a buddy you just happen to share a hobby you're nuts about, for example -- and for some reason, that someone new seems a hell of a lot like someone you've crossed paths before. It's like deja vu in the coolest way possible, and at some points, makes you sit back, scratch your head and say "what the...?"
Well, even within the confines of US Skin Grafx, while we draw our customs, look and admire the new work of our fellow artists out there, and jawjack about anything at all to the background of rock 'n' roll music, such a thing happens.
My former partner-in-crime, Spitfire Sus, brought Alicia to the shop, as said Alicia wanted ink. Well, the first time they came over, I was smack in the middle of a large piece and couldn't really get up to do a full consult. They were patient, though, and pretty soon, Alicia told me about what she wanted.
She had an original piece, done in Michigan some years back. Then it got covered up with a butterfly -- I believe the coverup was done by plonking the butterfly's body (in black), and then embellished by a tri-color wing which was red, blue and yellow. After a few years, the yellow colour dimmed a little.
The conversation went loosely like this:
"So what're you thinking of?" I asked.
"I'd like an expansion. I want to add to this piece and grow it," she said, "Like into a halfsleeve."
Seeing as we couldn't get gauge the reaction of a half sleeve from her bosses, we eventually decided to play safe and opted for a quarter sleeve first -- we can grow it into a half if she liked later. Then came the details: What would you like, I asked?
Here was the directive: "I love color. I *LOVE* color!!!!" she said. Point taken.
So I suggested a butterfly perched on a branch with leaves... lots of beautiful, elegantly arranged lea-
"Not green, lah," she interjected.
"Huh?" I asked, a little dumbfounded.
"I don't want any green, don't like green," she said, at first, impassively.
Now at this point, I had to put on my powers of persuasion. Fact is, Alicia has some envy-worthy, awesomely gorgeous skin -- gold-tinged alabaster is the best way to put it. I was dying to draw and color on her arm like a kid with her first complete set of Crayolas. And put green in it!
Finally, we managed a compromise -- it was ok to put a tiny bit of lime green here and there, as an accent. But colourful was the catchphrase to go. So we took a measurement of where we were going to go for her tattoo, plus made a few more ideas how to bring the butterfly -- done by one of KL's more well known artists -- to greater prominence: blend the lime into the wings, so there's a measure of visual congruence between the old tattoo and the new.
The decision, thus, was to design curling branches with cherry blossoms perching on the spindly ends, as well as a few petals floating here and there. And little butterflies dancing throughout.
In her second visit, she brought her husband Andrew, who we also immediately took to (partly because he's an avid diver and you know, all divers are essentially some of the best people in the world), and we made a few very minor tweaks to the design. A date was set, and it was on.
At that point, it was starting to feel, oddly, that both of them were more family than friends, let alone new acquaintances. To me, it felt a bit like kismet (thanks to Farrell Tan for helpfully providing the word).
We stuck the stencil. I always get a little nervous over stencils that wrap around a limb, so Randy helped me out there. And then it was on. First, the outlines in black, and the wispy flourishes that start out purple and slowly blending into blue, then a tiny bit of grey shading here and there before tattooing the colours -- magentas, pinks, lavenders, onto the flowers and teals and deep pinks into the butterflies.
At some point, we started chatting. Bear in mind that at this point, we still didn't know a lot about each other, and the conversation led to "what were you doing before what you do now?" And she mentioned managing a restaurant -- a Thai one -- in Subang Jaya. Naturally, the next question to ask was its name.
Ok, this is getting weird, right. We compared kindergartens (Taman Sicily for her, and the Assumption near the Raja Muda's digs for me). "Yeah, I remember my neighbour Mrs Muthu -- a sari-garbed Chinese lady married to an Indian -- taking me to school in her yellow car because Mrs Muthu was my neighbour at Kampung Guru," I said.
EK:
I believe that in everyone's life, we sometimes meet someone new -- a friend, or a partner, or a lover, or a buddy you just happen to share a hobby you're nuts about, for example -- and for some reason, that someone new seems a hell of a lot like someone you've crossed paths before. It's like deja vu in the coolest way possible, and at some points, makes you sit back, scratch your head and say "what the...?"
Well, even within the confines of US Skin Grafx, while we draw our customs, look and admire the new work of our fellow artists out there, and jawjack about anything at all to the background of rock 'n' roll music, such a thing happens.
My former partner-in-crime, Spitfire Sus, brought Alicia to the shop, as said Alicia wanted ink. Well, the first time they came over, I was smack in the middle of a large piece and couldn't really get up to do a full consult. They were patient, though, and pretty soon, Alicia told me about what she wanted.
She had an original piece, done in Michigan some years back. Then it got covered up with a butterfly -- I believe the coverup was done by plonking the butterfly's body (in black), and then embellished by a tri-color wing which was red, blue and yellow. After a few years, the yellow colour dimmed a little.
The conversation went loosely like this:
"So what're you thinking of?" I asked.
"I'd like an expansion. I want to add to this piece and grow it," she said, "Like into a halfsleeve."
Seeing as we couldn't get gauge the reaction of a half sleeve from her bosses, we eventually decided to play safe and opted for a quarter sleeve first -- we can grow it into a half if she liked later. Then came the details: What would you like, I asked?
Here was the directive: "I love color. I *LOVE* color!!!!" she said. Point taken.
So I suggested a butterfly perched on a branch with leaves... lots of beautiful, elegantly arranged lea-
"Not green, lah," she interjected.
"Huh?" I asked, a little dumbfounded.
"I don't want any green, don't like green," she said, at first, impassively.
Now at this point, I had to put on my powers of persuasion. Fact is, Alicia has some envy-worthy, awesomely gorgeous skin -- gold-tinged alabaster is the best way to put it. I was dying to draw and color on her arm like a kid with her first complete set of Crayolas. And put green in it!
 |
| A last look before Ali gets stuck with needles. The old butterfly and the stencil on. |
Finally, we managed a compromise -- it was ok to put a tiny bit of lime green here and there, as an accent. But colourful was the catchphrase to go. So we took a measurement of where we were going to go for her tattoo, plus made a few more ideas how to bring the butterfly -- done by one of KL's more well known artists -- to greater prominence: blend the lime into the wings, so there's a measure of visual congruence between the old tattoo and the new.
The decision, thus, was to design curling branches with cherry blossoms perching on the spindly ends, as well as a few petals floating here and there. And little butterflies dancing throughout.
In her second visit, she brought her husband Andrew, who we also immediately took to (partly because he's an avid diver and you know, all divers are essentially some of the best people in the world), and we made a few very minor tweaks to the design. A date was set, and it was on.
At that point, it was starting to feel, oddly, that both of them were more family than friends, let alone new acquaintances. To me, it felt a bit like kismet (thanks to Farrell Tan for helpfully providing the word).
We stuck the stencil. I always get a little nervous over stencils that wrap around a limb, so Randy helped me out there. And then it was on. First, the outlines in black, and the wispy flourishes that start out purple and slowly blending into blue, then a tiny bit of grey shading here and there before tattooing the colours -- magentas, pinks, lavenders, onto the flowers and teals and deep pinks into the butterflies.
At some point, we started chatting. Bear in mind that at this point, we still didn't know a lot about each other, and the conversation led to "what were you doing before what you do now?" And she mentioned managing a restaurant -- a Thai one -- in Subang Jaya. Naturally, the next question to ask was its name.
"Khanom Jeen," she said. I was pretty taken aback; enough to lift my foot off the pedal.
"You mean...the one with all the gold leaf art on the walls?" I asked.
"Yes, yes," she said, looking at me a bit curiously.
"And khanom jeen(Thai rice noodles) comes in these little curled up twirls of noodles... so very cute?"
"Yes, that's it!"
"And your artwork comes from an artist who popularised gold leaf...based at Bangkok's Chaktuchak???" I asked, almost disbelieving it.
"Oh my god, you know the place," she said.
"You mean...the one with all the gold leaf art on the walls?" I asked.
"Yes, yes," she said, looking at me a bit curiously.
"And khanom jeen(Thai rice noodles) comes in these little curled up twirls of noodles... so very cute?"
"Yes, that's it!"
"And your artwork comes from an artist who popularised gold leaf...based at Bangkok's Chaktuchak???" I asked, almost disbelieving it.
"Oh my god, you know the place," she said.
Know it, I did! Years ago, when I was working at the Metro section of The People's Paper, I was stomping around in Taipan Subang and that restaurant (then newly opened) caught my eye. I decided to have lunch therer, and was so impressed with the food that I asked them whether they would want to be reviewed. The man who was presumably managing the place took my business card and said "Well, this is a coincidence. I've been wondering how to get a hold of you to review this place for the past few weeks."
Now, naturally, a dinky tinky little junior reporter doesn't get to hear this everyday, and I had to force my swelled head and ego through the door to leave. But review it, I did, and I'm happy to note that Khanom Jeen became one of the respected Thai outlets in the Klang Valley until its owners (Evon Au -- Alicia's sister, and her husband David Knapfel) moved to Canada and closed with much regret from diners. Alicia said that she was there practically every day, which could mean that we might have crossed paths in previous careers before.
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| An alternate look at the "after". Dunno why this girl doesn't do green a lot...it looks gorgeous on her! |
Then we moved on to the next conversation, and for some inexplicable reason, it moved to the topic of Perak -- what the towns are and (naturally), what to eat. Sure, we jawed about the many culinary delights of Ipoh, and then someone mentioned Teluk Intan (then Telok Anson way back in the 1980s), a small town then and a small town now.
"I grew up there, I'm from TA," she said.
My foot went off the pedal again and I stared at her incredulously. "I spent my childhood there, growing up at my grandparents' house!"
"I grew up there, I'm from TA," she said.
My foot went off the pedal again and I stared at her incredulously. "I spent my childhood there, growing up at my grandparents' house!"
Ok, this is getting weird, right. We compared kindergartens (Taman Sicily for her, and the Assumption near the Raja Muda's digs for me). "Yeah, I remember my neighbour Mrs Muthu -- a sari-garbed Chinese lady married to an Indian -- taking me to school in her yellow car because Mrs Muthu was my neighbour at Kampung Guru," I said.
(Kampung Guru is (was?) a section in a tranquil part of the town, surrounded by fields and green and lots of open space. It was originally allotted for civil servants, especially teachers, when it first opened. An idyllic place for a kid to grow up).
Alicia looked at me in disbelief. "You mean, Kampung Guru with the big field in the middle that boys played football in, right?"
"That one," I said. "I lived at No. 7!"
"Hey, guess what... that's where I grew up too. I'm at number 30-something (ok, I forgot the actual number) My parents are still there," she said, and broke out into a great big laugh.
"That one," I said. "I lived at No. 7!"
"Hey, guess what... that's where I grew up too. I'm at number 30-something (ok, I forgot the actual number) My parents are still there," she said, and broke out into a great big laugh.
It was pretty incredible and slightly freaky to both of us. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I just hoped that being the spoilt little monster I was, I didn't swank too much around the neighbourhood and bully a toddler that could very well have been the gal I was, well, poking with needles right there and then.
Anyway, we finished the tattoo soon after. Andrew brought over lunch, so we chomped that down, and over discussions about diving and food, we became new friends. Or old friends. I can seriously say, this was one truly memorable tattoo, thanks to Alicia and Andrew and of course, thanks to Susan for bringing it all together!
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