I got a new tattoo yesterday, and it’s probably the most meaningful one to date.
I have two other tattoos, but one is covering up another. The original was inked on my arm in celebration of my 21st birthday in Las Vegas. The tattoo artist screwed up the design and I spent the next 15 years simply dealing with it, until finally I got it covered up with a much better floral tattoo. I’d been meaning to get another, separate tattoo for years but the time and finances never lined up.
And then, one of my oldest and dearest friends began a tattoo apprenticeship, and I instantly knew what my next tattoo had to be: literally anything from them.
Those of you who have been reading may recognize this friend of mine. They were the direct inspiration for Tara Swift, one of Dominic’s students from the Oracle for Hire years who, along with the other students, went on to fight off an otherworldly invader and cause the irreversible change in magic 200 years ago, as discovered in The Legacy. They’ve also done a few guest comics and filler art for me over the years, so our relationship is both lengthy and entwined in the comic.
This friend of mine had also been wanting to take up tattooing for years, so to see them chasing a long-desired dream was heartwarming. Given our long history and shared love of art, I knew I had to be a part of their learning process. I knew I had to get a tattoo of their art, both as a symbol of our lasting friendship and my participation in their pursuit of a dream.
Yesterday I went under their needle, and I couldn’t have been prouder of them.
Not only are they as skilled as ever as an artist, I felt “safe” in their care. Some folks, whatever their trade, can be heavy-handed or rough. The pain that comes with getting a tattoo is unavoidable, but for me it can be mitigated by someone with a skilled touch. I felt more like I was being drawn upon than poked with a needle, and perhaps my own experience as an artist gave me comfort in that comparison. Everything they did, from repositioning my arm to where it needed to be, to the stroke of the tattoo needle, to their careful touch as they wiped away excess ink, made me feel that they were comfortable and confident despite their self-proclaimed inexperience.
There is now a rose on my arm, the second flower in my growing “garden arm.” Its meaning is as deep as its beauty, and I am so very glad to have it adorning me for the rest of my life.