My technique actually changes depending on how inebriated I am when administering the tattoo. Here, I am being overly careful because I am completely sober and thus am fretting over each and every dot. This is because I cannot blame alcohol for any stray dots poked. Speaking of that, there was one late night in Miami when I gave a tattoo to my friend Dan Colen. It was 5 AM and a large group of friends had gathered in our hotel room and—let’s just say we were heavily on the tipsy side. Anyway, there were a few moments where I had pushed the needle in and we’d be hysterically laughing about whatever, then I’d look down and the entire needle, thread and all, would be in his chest! Then... Blood everywhere! But then we’d continue as if nothing happened. I blame the alcohol.
Throughout the tattoo, l will go back and darken some lighter parts. When the skin begins to get puffy it makes the dots look smaller. Therefore, I wait until the swelling is more even before I go over certain parts.
Alexis: “It feels like you’re giving me an abortion!”
Me: “No, it feels more like your fifth abortion. You’re kinda numb to it, but it still hurts.”
The beer and half a Xanax don’t seem to be doing the trick. We add some codeine to the mix. Barring a few dear sober pals (no pun intended... OK, intended), almost every time I’ve stuck and poked my friends, much liquor was involved, making them significantly and comfortably numb. Oftentimes it was the result of, say, an “emotionally rife” night out. Come to think of it, I believe all the tattoos I’ve given have been of loved ones, dead ones, or something personal and telltale. So, liquor, even as it makes one less smart, definitely makes it smart less. But in this case, Alexis had to resort to painkillers.
Alexis finally appears more relaxed. Then her mom calls. “Hi Mom, my friend is giving me a tattoo right now. It says ‘Rosemary’s Baby.’ Yes, it’s permanent.” I grab the phone and in an attempt to mollify Mama say, “It’s beautiful, Rosemary!” I think it worked!
The first time I ever did a stick ’n’ poke was about five years ago in San Francisco. One of my bests, Brian Degraw, and I were out on the town with our pals Wong and MOB drinking vial after vial of a liquor called Underberg. Warning: Underberg is Damage Juice! It is a digestive alcohol that tastes like concentrated Jägermeister with hints of Band-Aids. While it may soothe your upset stomach, it will also continue to rape your brain repeatedly until you have a mental disorder. We unwittingly downed vials aplenty, then proceeded to thieve pool cues from the bar and use them to play drums on warehouse windows for several blocks down the street. After shattering our fair share of panes and playing trash-can djembe, my Underberg-eyes fixated on this orange construction netting, which I wrapped around my body and then rolled my way down Van Ness in. Ultimately, after such an impassioned evening, we were feeling the love, and we came home and tattooed each other’s initials on our arms. That was the first time.
Just one letter to go.
After three hours, Alexis is successfully stuck and poked. Voilà and tada!
The script I used is intentionally dotty, like a marquee. It looks starry and rather romantic and stylish. This is the way I did my very first one, and it has incidentally become my signature style. Pun intended.
Ben: “Whenever I’ve tattooed someone, I feel as though it creates a unique bond.”
Alexis: “I’m really happy with my new tattoo and I feel great. It’s like endorphins are shooting out of my body. I feel like going out and fighting someone!”
BENJAMIN CHO
FEATURING ALEXIS PAGE
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