tr.v. 1. To mark, coat, or stain with ink. 2. Informal. To append one's signature to (a
contract, for example.)
Ink has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I began reading at the age of three, devouring books actually. By first grade, I was reading at a sixth grade level. (Of course being the curious child I was, by the age of five I knew where my dad and uncles kept their Playboy and Penthouse magazines and was reading those too, but that's another blog.)
Once I learned to write, an ink pen was my tool of choice. I think I liked the permanence of it - where I had been, what I had done, couldn't be erased. It could still be torn and thrown out but it was like I'd left my own mark on the universe. I used to write as much as I read. I wrote short stories, poetry, my thoughts and dreams filling diaries and journals.
And doodles!! I didn't always use ink to draw, but being a lefty, if I used ink, at least I didn't smear my drawings. So I practiced, developed some confidence in my artistic abilities and learned to like the rough edges. I slowly added painting to my skill set - watercolors, acrylics, etc. - but found I leaned toward using the more permanent pigments.
Permanence........ I know in the grand scheme of things, I make no great impact on the world. I suppose growing up, I never felt very important. I wanted to be, but never felt it. I wasn't particularly praised for any achievements that I made or skills I possessed. Maybe that's why my younger years were spent immersed in books - seeking new experiences, places and adventures that seemed they would never be part of my real world. When I wrote I could recreate my world - even if it was only on paper. When I drew or painted I could control what was around me and how it appeared.
Being older now I still don't feel like I make any great impact on the world, but then, a great impact isn't my goal. Being myself, being happy, being a good mom, being a good partner - those are my goals. A permanent effect on the world doesn't matter to me, knowing that I permanently matter to someone does. I can now see ways in which being myself impacts people. I get private messages from people about how I inspire them or how something I said was just what they needed to hear at that moment. It's strange to feel so small for so long and suddenly realize that even "small" you affect people, that small simple things - being yourself, being honest, being open to life - can turn out to be big in their own little ways.
After many years of being sidetracked by other people's expectations of me, I knew I had to return to being me. In the process of becoming myself again, I returned to that familiar memory keeper I called "ink". I began writing again, I began drawing and painting again, and an old desire returned. Tattoos. I honestly always wanted tattoos, but when you live with a judgmental person who every time it's mentioned says "If you want one get one, but I think they're trashy," and especially when you feel like nothing in that relationship, it's very difficult to just do what you want to do. It hadn't really ever left me, I had just steered away from getting tattoos because of worrying about the judgments that would come with them. Somewhere along the way I'd become afraid of permanence and afraid of being myself. I had let being small turn into being insignificant. I knew if I was going to get back to me and be able to stand my ground there, my fears had to be overcome, I couldn't keep hiding myself and letting myself feel insignificant.
People get tattoos for many reasons. Some later regret their thought process behind getting the tattoo and will say they regret the tattoo, rather than admit they regret a moment in time. Others proudly display their tattoos, mementos of their experiences, memories and milestones from their lives. People who've never wanted them won't ever understand why someone would. I get tattoos for me. Each tattoo I've gotten makes me feel more like myself. That's the only way I can explain it. My tattoos are permanent reminders of me...imprints from moments in my life, things I love, representations of things I remember fondly. I pick things that are constant and steady, touchstones of my life and who I am, even the tiniest details.
They also make me feel more "colorful", lighter, happier. It's not about feeling like a "bad-ass" or anything like that, they make me comfortable. They also make dealing with other people easier for me. Although I can be a "chatty Cathy" I also have a shy and introverted side. Tattoos, especially on a woman, can immediately bring the "pig" in a guy to the surface. Face it, people make assumptions, and for some reason when it comes to tattoos people seem to be much more apt to be straight forward with what's on their mind. Whether it's "Why would you do that?" or a statement of appreciation for the artwork, or a very blunt invitation for sex, it seems to cut through the games and bullshit. A guy who's a pig won't bother to hide it, a catty female won't bother faking nice, and every now and again, it gives someone - who may not approach you otherwise - a starting point for a conversation. They may change my appearance but they don't change who I am. Criticize if that's your nature but before you do think of what you're about to let fly. If you are obviously overweight and out of shape and want to ask "how I could do that to my body?" be prepared to hear "how could you do that to your body?" Before you, with your trying-to-look-perfect appearance, nose in the air and snarled up face, make a snide comment about my tattoos or what you think I must be like, you need to have a response ready for when I ask why you live in such a way that you appear outwardly miserable and feel a need to spread misery and negativity. I didn't have a single tattoo until I was almost 39 - a lot of thought has gone into my tattoos.
I started simply enough with the title of a song by Government Mule - Beautifully Broken. I was going through a divorce, everything I thought I had was built on a foundation of lies and held together by more lies. If you think about it though, all of us go through things that we think will break us and few of us ever actually shatter. Most of us just develop stress fractures that mold our character and reactions and lead us on different paths. I love the look of cracked glass vases and sculptures. People seem like those pieces of art - complex, strong and weak all at once, they may withstand a great deal day in and day out but one tiny bump in just the right place could shatter everything.
(I have since learned that I am much stronger than I ever thought I was. I still struggle sometimes with asserting myself but I recognize my strength and have stopped thinking of myself as "broken" - this may get redone at some point. But right now my focus is on completing a sleeve.)
Each tattoo has made me a bolder version of me...
My wings are from an Italian quote "We are all born angels but with only one wing. To truly fly we must embrace another." It was going to be my first tattoo but with only one wing because I felt I hadn't found that perfect match for me. But I've found the one that makes me fly so it became a set....
My guns are a reminder to myself about the strong willed - albeit sometimes crazy - stock that I come from....
Skulls are something I've always drawn, it's not a fascination with death, it's about anatomy, I have one that represents me and one that represents the man in my life....
A moon because I've always been a night person....
Waves and a sunset because I adore the oceans and sunsets.....
Crows because they're always around....
The quotes "I'll keep you safe" and "You keep me wild" because that's how my husband and I balance each other....
Two anatomical hearts with octopi tentacles entwining each other for several reasons, my love of the ocean, my love of anatomy, thinking the kick-ass sculpture I based it on was beautiful and essentially it represents love - a thing that grabs hold of your heart, surrounds it, binds you to another....
(Only outlined at the moment.)
And there's much more to come. It takes time just like it takes courage to really be yourself. Sometimes my courage grows and I add another milestone, sometimes I reveal a part of myself with a tattoo and the courage to be bolder follows. Either way I'll continue to be me. Maybe some piece of what I do with ink, my words or my art, will impact people. Maybe it won't. But it will forever be part of me.
It's my Beautiful Crazy....Ink.
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