Inked!

After doing most of my required yardwork Saturday morning, I headed off to Fry Street Ink, which is located at 1302 West Hickory Street in Denton, Texas in time for my 3:00 PM appointment with Hank. I had decided on Hank as the artist for my first tattoo after on-line research, referrals from people whose tattoos I had admired and a personal interview. Okay, I had just stopped by after getting the referrals and seeing his work on-line and asked if he could do what I wanted, how long it would take and what his appointment book looked liked. He told me he could, it would be around an hour in the chair and he was two weeks out.

When I arrived with my brother-in-law Joe a few minutes before 3, Hank was busy on a young woman's back. That session lasted for another 20 or 25 minutes. Then Hank came over with paperwork. After signing forms stating I knew the risks, I don't have any blood-born diseases and releasing them from all liabilities for the same, Hank went outside to smoke. Then he had to eat something. He took care of a few other things before washing up like a surgeon. It's a good thing I was over my nervousness or the delay may have pushed me over the edge. There were a couple other artists in the studio, but they didn't have anyone in their chairs. None of them seemed concerned with the pace of things, or lack of it so I assumed this was just the way things are done in that world.

So finally, a little after 4 I sat down in the chair. Hank had taken the design and made the copies/transfers/whatever-you-call-thems and we were getting started. I had no idea there was so much hair growing on the inside of my arm, but it was smoothly shaved away. Then came the placement of the image. Here is a picture of the image placement that Joe took:

Joe was sort of bored by this time, so he left to walk around Denton and go to a great used book store across from the courthouse. Hank was not satisified with the alignment of the image on my arm and washed off the outline. Trice more he laid the outline on my arm, each time moving it no more than 2 or 3mm from where it had been.

"Let's try this with you standing," he said as he pushed his tool back, indicating that I needed to get out of chair. "I want to see where it is going to be when you stand and also how it will line up vertically." Apparently that was the trick, because he was happy after one attempt. He pointed out to me the sublety of the placement and how the entire design is centered on the vertical center of my forearm - the beak of the dove points down the center of the cross and that line extends between the center of the tendons on my wrist and straight out the center of my two middle fingers. If I spread them to make a "V" with my arm outstretched, it is like sighting a rifle down the line they make. Hmmm. I am glad he pays attention to these things. I would have never noticed this. Perhaps he is just a good salesman, but I am gaining confidence in the selection of this guy about now.

Many people had warned me I had selected one of the more sensitive places on my body to have a tattoo done. Pain was what they had said I would feel. Hank described the coming sensation as a cross between sunburn-like stinging and a little electric shock. He nailed that one, too. Did it hurt? A bit, I guess. But I have had more pain from a tooth ache or muscle spasm.

He finished the black outline of the cross a little after 5. Joe had managed to get lost in Denton and make it back to the shop by this time and he took this shot:

While Joe settled in to a stool nearby and began discussing politics with John, another artist working in the shop, Hank started filling in the blue. Hank is an anarchist who avoids political discussions. John, on the other hand, is as big of conspiracy-theroist as Art Bell. Joe and he were off and running, providing an entertaining diversion to those of us observing. Unions, the draft, merchanaries, illegal aliens, Sun Yung Moon, and the fascist takeover of the US goverment which began in 1939 were all discussed. For a moment I thought that I was in the disillusioned equivalent of Mayberry's barber shop with Floyd, Goober and the rest of the boys working things out.

Shortly my attention was refocused on Hank, as now he was working on the red. And then he was done.

Here is a link to the meaning of the various elements of this cross. I was not raised Presbyterian and would not claim this denomination is the only true Christian church. However, I embrace our theology and love the polity or structure of the denomination, which divides its governing powers equally between the clergy and lay people. It is said this representative governing style formed the basis for our founding fathers creation of the US Constitution.

Anyway, that was my Saturday afternoon. I had fun.