Mainstream Tattooing: Arm Bands and Tramp Stamps

So, as I mentioned in part 2, about 5 years ago the Tattoo craze hit mainstream with shows like Miami Ink and LA Ink and, at first, most of us were excited because now there was something in the media that didn't paint us as degenerates, thugs or ex con's. We saw it as a positive turn around and it had so much potential to do so much good.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions and if ever there was physical proof of this, it was the crew of Miami Ink.

These guys were fucked from the get go. Their work wasn't just shitty, if that was all then hell we could have blamed the network, ignorance and all, but it was worse. Their work was simplistic and inconsistant for such highly prized tattoo artists, according to themselves, and from first hand experience, they were the laughing stock of the real industry. I attended the Tampa Convention at the Double Tree in 2005 and spoke with many well known, well established and damn good artists in the industry at that convention...Miami Ink was all the buzz and the general opinion: The only member of that team worth a damn was Kat Von D and several months after the convention she was booted out the door of Miami Ink, why? She was better than the owners.

These shows could have opened the door for great things like equality in the work place for those of us that choose to color their skin, it could have changed the social dynamics of how we see people...but what did it do? It inspired a bunch of prissy bitches and Jock assholes to boost their own ego brought on by their own lack of self esteem. Tattoos becam a fashion symbol. Every body and their grandmother were getting the tramp stamp (Fad of the 90's) and Tribal armband (also a throw back to the 90's). Now CEO's of fortune 500 companies had a bit of Ink that supposedly told the world, look at me, im anti social.

No. As someone who has at least 30 percent of his body covered in ink, I belong to the Club. Almost all of my work, even the shit work, is custom. I dont pick flash from a wall, its not unique if I do.
All this craze has done to tattooing is cheapen the meaning. Now, as we are called "Body Modifiers", we must find new ways to further seperate ourselves from the heard. Peircing became the thing amongst our little society, then that became mainstream as the same rich bitches and Jocks had their ear lobes stretched to incorperate their new "Bling"...so what did we do then...Branding was born.

So here is my point. Just because you have a bit of ink doesn't mean your in the club. In truth, your shitty little tattoo doesn't mean Jack or shit. My work tells a story, but its one only I understand and relate to. Those in the club know this as their story is the same...so how does it work? We relate to one another because we know we cant relate...get it? Yea, it sucks your dad, gandmother, uncle, cousin, girlfriend or dog was killed in a freak hair dryer accident but what in the hell makes you think that I will see you as one of the faithful just because you got their image buried in your skin? Look, its great that you have tattoos that mean somthing to you, but the art form is abstract and shouldent be so damn obvious.

This one is short cause im tired, I may come back and edit later but here is my closing statement to all the weekend chair riders...

Your not part of our society, you are a drain on our artistic lisence, your fashion sense sucks and you are compensating. Stop now while you still have skin left. You dont need that new cupcake tatt, step away from the sugar skulls, leave the nautical stars on the maps and for christ sake buy a real fucking diamond that realy sparkles cause the word "Bling" just dosent do it justice...
Im real, I am what people would call Hard Core...though I just am what I am. In this modern age society teaches us not to hate...hate is bad...well guess what? I dont belive that shit. I belive violence is a great way to solve a problem, I am quick to anger, I have mental issues and my Art tells that story. Woe be unto you if you cant read the signs imbeded deep in my skin.
My point is this. Dont expect me to play nice if you walk up to me and show me some shitty wall ink, but do expect me to tell you straight out its a piece of shit and get lost. Remember, im the real deal, so save that damn mark for your frat boys and if you think im being harsh, consider yourself lucky I let you leave with that little mark...I could allways just whip out my trusty pocket knife and cut that shit from your arm to hang on my fucking wall...

Yep, I hate...and im damn proud of it