So I had gone through a small hiatus of tattoo-getting for a variety of reasons, busy, skint, undecided etc. But like all addicted inkers, I was consistently on the look out for ideas and Summer 2012 it struck. I came across a tribal bird that I fell in love with. The one I found was on someones back which, while lovely for them, personally I’d designated not so much a ‘no-go’ area, but more a ‘not-yet’ area. Continue reading
So I always wanted a foot tattoo. I’m not a big fan of feet, especially my own, but I knew it was next on my list of things to ink, number three.
I don’t fancy colour tattoo’s. I love them on other people, but I don’t like when the colours fade and the thought of the maintenance brings out my lazy side. Continue reading
So first tattoo done and got the bug. The only thing that I didn’t like about my neck-tattoo is that, well, I can’t see it. I decided for the next spot it was going to be somewhere I could notice it. But I still needed to be able to cover it when needed.
In my previous post on tattoos and what to consider, I eventually decided on a neck tattoo. I figured; easily, covered, easily exposed, nice little number.
I originally went to my artist looking for a kind of winged man/angel figure, but he wasn’t happy with the proportions required, (a decent wing span would need a giant figure to balance out), I left it with him and when I got back he had, what is now my tattoo drawn.
In 2005 aged 23, I had just returned home from travelling in post-tsunami Indonesia. I was chatting with my Mam one day and out of nowhere she asked, ‘Have you ever considered getting a tattoo?’. Eh hello! Is a bear a catholic!?! I’d been into piercings early on and it was a slim line keeping me from the ink, but why did Mammy care? She, like most parents, had been vehemently anti-tattoo up to this point.
So it turns out while I was off gallivanting, poor Mam watched a documentary about the tsunami and was really horrified to learn that some people had to be buried without identities as they couldn’t be identified before burial. It had gotten her thinking that, should the unthinkable happen to me while away, how could she identify my body, and a tattoo seemed to be the obvious answer. I didn’t argue too strenuously, odd and all as the reasoning seemed.