After years of wanting a tattoo, and months after booking my initial appointment back in August, I finally got mine tonight, and I couldn't be happier. I had seen a couple people whose tattoos I thought were really beautiful, and when I asked them who did their work, they told me, "Captain Dave at Studio City Tattoo." So I decided that that's where I needed to go. But when I first went in, Captain Dave wasn't there and so I looked at the books and chose a guy named Mark, who was also very good, but, to be honest, his personality was, I don't know, I just didn't feel that connection to him that I usually feel with people who are going to be important to me. I was excited about my tattoo, I was excited about Mark's talent, but I wasn't exactly thrilled that Mark was going to be doing it, because I had always pictured in my mind that I'd like the person doing the tattoo, and while Mark's work was superb (and actually kinda famous), I wasn't necessarily excited about having my first tattoo experience be with him. It was August, and I booked the next available appointment which was October 11th (which meant leaving a $100 deposit).

When I showed up, I was told that Mark had parted ways from the shop, and although it was an amicable parting, he still took his deposits with him. When I showed up, Captain Dave was actually there and so it turned out the way it was meant to be anyway: I got to reschedule my appointment with him instead. I was ecstatic because he was the person I had originally gone to see anyway.

Dave is amazing. The tattoo is beautiful, and I really like him as an artist but also as a person. We had a great conversation--and it turns out that we have essentially all the same interests: horror movies (particularly zombie and slasher flicks), comic books, video games. Even our pasts and families are very similar. It just felt like it all worked out cosmically.

I've been wanting a large back piece for six years, ever since in 2001 I learned about Japanese horimono, but I never really knew what it'd be of, or, what story it would tell. But now that I know Dave, I'm going to collaborate with him on it.



What's my tattoo of? It's of an iris. it's inspired by the Van Gogh painting, Irises, 1889. It used to be the loneliest painting I had ever seen. The white iris is alone in the midst of a crowd of purple. There are a couple irises that have hints of white, only to turn out purple. Every time I go to the Getty and look at this painting, I see something different, and the last time I went, I finally saw strength in the white iris. It's strong because it's individual and unapologetically white in a sea of purple.

I've been struggling with my writing ever since I got into grad school. I think the workshops have fucked me up--not because the workshops were fucked up, but because I was seriously fucked up. I wasn't writing for me. I was writing to fulfill that need, that thirst, that craving for approval. I think I was addicted to it the way my brother is addicted to pot: it's not about getting high or getting mellow, it's about maintaining. It's about getting high to function because it's become a bodily process. I think that's the way I was with approval. And when I started to get approval from my writing in the college classes I took (both in high school and at the various universities I attended), or when I got accepted to exclusive writing programs, or won scholarships because of my writing, my creativity got entangled with my craving for approval. And I wasn't writing for myself anymore. I was writing for an audience. I was trying to be purple.

I'm tired of not being true to myself. So the tattoo is symbolic of this shift in my life, not just in the symbol of the iris itself, but also the act of getting tattooed. I mean, sure, I'm glad I didn't get a Marvin the Martian tattoo when I was 18. I wasn't serious about it anyway, I said it more or less to tease my mom. But my entire life as an adult so far, I've been too afraid to get a tattoo because I've been so wrapped up in worrying about disappointing my mom or B or whatever.

I need to embrace the fact that I'm alone in a sea purple. And maybe that's not such a lonely place to be, because I can't be true to anyone else until I'm true to myself first.

Labels: captain dave, iris, los angeles, real life, studio city tattoo, tattoo

( 2comments )

at October 29, 2007 11:54 AM  Natalia said...

You truly do have a beautiful way with words, Jilly. Your posts are always so insightful and gorgeous. I know what you mean about writing for an audience.

Where did you get the tatoo? I bet it's pretty! I love the symbolism behind your choice.

 

at October 30, 2007 11:41 PM  Jilly said...

It's on my chest. I'll take a picture when it heals.