One thing this whole mess has taught me to do is embrace change. Very few things in life are permanent, especially life itself. We tend to fight for stability over all else. We punch clocks at jobs we hate. We stay in decaying relationships. We vote for the same assholes in congress. We do these things not because there are no better alternative, but because we fear the dynamic.
That said, I do believe in universal constants: the ratio of circumference to diameter and the ineptitude of Congress, to name a couple. I also made a commitment to my wife that didn't end just because she died. That permanence needed a physical reminder, one that would last as long as I do.
A tattoo seemed an appropriate reminder. Dahlia had ideas that she wanted to get, but other priorities prevailed. She had wanted to get a compass rose. She'd filled Pinterest boards, as she often did, with ideas for it. The other idea, one she held for years was for a tree of life, a tree where the roots come up and intertwine with the branches. It's a symbol for the cyclical nature of life.
Despite the fact that the idea of the tree had faded as her prognosis worsened, it’s held clear in my mind since her passing. I may not believe in the spiritual side of the symbolism, but all life gets recycled in a very physical sense that has stuck with me. The concept has morphed and changed in the months since her passing, but the core concept has remained: a tree with exposed roots. I like the idea of exposed depths, of an anchor growing into something new.
With the idea of the tree solidified, I needed to fill out the concept in my mind. I liked the idea of growth and the concept of an image that changed over time, a reminder of what roots me and what can change. I also wanted some direct tie to Dahlia, so I decided the image needed a squirrel, her "spirit animal," resting in the tree.
After deciding on a design, I allowed for six months to myself out of it. I'd have to live with it for the rest of my life, so I wanted to be sure about it. During that time, the position shifted, but the core concepts of the design remained certain. The position went from my leg to my back shoulder to finally my forearm. After half a year, all that was left to do was get the damned thing.
After getting some recommendations from friends, I settled on Under the Needle tattoo parlor. They had a couple artists who had good work, so I scheduled an appointment to get a sketch done. Walking in, I was nervous and excited, like a teenager getting his first car. After a few minutes of waiting, my artist, Siobhan, comes out from the back. She was amazing. She was calm, professional and put my mind at ease. We discussed the individual parts of the tattoo and what I wanted each one to look like. I tried to be as minimal with instruction as I felt comfortable, because I wanted some amount of personal touch. That said, it's hard to balance the desire for certainty with the need for artistic expression.
After the discussion of concepts was over, we scheduled an appointment for three weeks later. She told me that she'd work on the sketch, but I wouldn't be able to see it until I came in to get it applied. She found that seeing it beforehand led to second guesses and uncertainty in her clients, and showing them the sketch the day of tended to work much better. So in a few weeks, I showed up with a a good friend of Dahlia's to get it done. Siobhan showed me her proposal, we made a few minor adjustments and got to work.
People with tattoos try to convince the uninitiated that they don't really hurt. Don't believe them. It's a recruiting tactic. They want more people to suffer to join their little club. The pain, while not unbearable, was significant and made it difficult to focus on anything else.
Dahlia's friend, however, was an absolute godsend. She kept me talking through the entire hour and ten minutes of getting voluntarily stabbed over and over. She kept the dialog going, even through the most mundane of topics. We talked about cars, dogs, club nights, and charity 5k races. All of it in the interest of keeping my mind off the fact that someone was dragging a needle over my forearm.At the end, I was pretty impressed with the results. The tree was wispy with deep, forking roots, a squirrel sitting on its forking branches. Four tiny leaves mark the beginning of a long, slow period of growth. There's some slight discoloration on the tree, but it almost looks intentional, like bark. I'm still finding myself staring at it a month later. It's starting to sink in, but when I catch it out of the corner of my eye, it still seems like someone else's arm.
I'm very happy with it, all in all. A few years ago, I never would have thought of getting a tattoo, but it's seemed to be a necessity over the past year. It's a great piece of art, and has been the occasional conversation starter. It has a story and I'm not sure I’d be comfortable getting a tattoo without one. I may not have been sure about the arm at first, but it's ended up being an ideal placement. Friends with tattoos on their back have told me that they sometimes forget they have them since they aren't in their field of view. Having it on the arm is a reminder of the permanence I hoped to represent.
No comments:
Post a Comment