"He's going to be a little late." Literally, those were the last words I wanted to hear on a day like today. Panic just ran through me and I desperately stared at my 16 year old brother hoping he could offer some relief, "What?," he said with all the sass in the world peering out of his tortoise shell hipster glasses. I continued to dart my eyes across the room between the shop manager and my brother, who had his head buried back in his iPhone, praying Rob would walk through the door.
I had wanted a tattoo for years, but the opportunity never seemed to present itself. When I imagined getting a tattoo I knew that I wanted it to be full of meaning and possibly an emotional experience, as well as one of personal growth. At the moment I was sitting in the world famous Bang Bang tattoo parlor in downtown Manhattan being told my tattoo artist was running late—this felt like a bad sign and the only emotional thing I was going to experience was a full-blown breakdown. I stared down the surprisingly small parlor. The floors were made of cold cement and the interior design was clearly inspired by a late Marilyn Manson album. A black chandler hung in the back room that was preceded by four tattoo stations lined against the wall. The whole place was the size of a substantial Manhattan alley way. The seats in the front of the shop, where I was panicking, were black cushion benches that wrapped around either side of the door, which was also blacked out like one of those SUV’s you think is transporting the President.
In the corners between the benches were magazines and an iPad where curious tattoo goers could view the various artists' portfolios. I looked over to my left and found a magazine that had featured "Bang", the celebrity tattoo artist and owner of this fine establishment. He found fame after tattooing artists and celebrities like Rihanna, Justin Bieber and LeBron James. Being that "Bang" had created quit the client list, the artists he hired to work here had to have impeccable talent. This was the very reason why I had chosen this parlor. I knew I was going to be paying the price, $1200 to be exact (with tip), but I figured if this tattoo was going to be on my body for the rest of my life, I might as well do it right. I wanted a piece of art on my body, not just a passing trend.
After a few months of doing some research, and having a vision of the tattoo, I found Bang Bang and emailed them. After a few days a sweet mannered assistant returned my email and suggested, based on my design description that I work with artist Rob Green. I quickly jumped on his Instagram account and fell in love with his detail, use of white, which tattoo artist stay away from since the color tends to fade, and his ability to make his art come to life. One of the pictures on his account was of a beautiful and incredibly detailed monarch butterfly that looked as if it was fluttering off the clients should. I thought to myself “DONE!” “He’s the one that will bring my tattoo to life.”
Prior to the official appointment I came in about a month earlier to meet with Rob and explain my ideas to him and make sure we were on the same page. In a nutshell, I traveled two hours to New York City to meet with Rob for literally seven minutes—I figured this is how the “cool kids” do things, but nonetheless the experience left my stomach a little uneasy. I left the downtown Manhattan shop with my cousin feeling cautiously optimistic.
Now as I sat against a cold cement wall, waiting for Rob to show up—I felt more doubtful than anything. Maybe this was all a bad idea, maybe I should save my money, run out of the shop and forget this all happened.
Suddenly, the blacked out parlor door opened and my cousin Leslie walked in. "Finally," I mouthed to her. Leslie has been with me on this entire journey, from conception, to coming with me for my consultation. She sat next to me making Tyler scoot over. "So what's going on?" she asked. She too had been late and was surprised to find me still waiting for Rob. I explained that he was running late, and that we had been waiting for about 30 minutes. I was totally freaking out. I was thinking that maybe this was all a bad idea. I don't look like a tattoo person, whatever that means and thought, “Who am I to be spending so much money on something I might regret a week later?” She could tell I was totally bugging out and offered up some emotional Xanax. "Everything is going to be fine, but to be safe let me talk to the shop manager." I just nodded and said ok.
I couldn't make out much, except for the shop manager's mellow, lady-you-need-to-relax attitude, which radiated throughout the waiting space. His cool eyes looked back and forth between my cousin and me, assuring us all was going to be ok. Just as my cousin was about to enact Plan B, aka walking out, which I didn't even think I could handle, a black SUV rolled up to the curb. Tyler looked up and whispered with excitement, "Oh my god what if it's Cara Delevigne!?" Cara Delevigne is a famous actress/model who has also been tattooed by "Bang". Her famous lion tattoo on her finger has been seen everywhere. His excitement was quickly squashed, but mine had begun to rise. It was Rob--"Oh thank god!" I thought.
Finally he arrived and I could feel the air return to my lungs and the blood back to my head. He walked in and I caught his eyes; they were puffy and he looked confused. Leslie noticed his lack of appearance as well. Plan B was beginning to look good. My gut felt like walking away might be better than having a tired man tattooing my body.
The shop manager walked over to Rob and introduced us, again, reminding him I was the lucky lady getting a tattoo. "Oh cool cool, alright so remind me again what we're doing?”—I wanted to die. How could he forget!? This was like the single most important day of my life, well until I graduate college or get married or give birth. I wanted to curl up in the floor and turn invisible.
Mustering all the strength I had, which was hard because I hadn't eaten much, I calmly explained my design. "Oh yea yea now I remember, yea the description in the email was confusing, ok tight." I just looked at him praying to find some brilliance behind his tired eyes. I guess I was confused because going into the appointment I thought that he has the design already drawn out. Earlier in the month I had met Rob for a consultation and showed him my ideas and later sent him a confirmation email. So showing up and he having little recollection of the plan seemed discouraging and the last thing I wanted to hear. "Ok give me a few minutes and I draw it up for you." Trying to breathe, I just said “Ok”. I could feel my cousin's eyes following him harshly has he sauntered to the "design area". The area was on the far back left side of the parlor. Three large Mac computers and a scanner hooked up to a printer comprised the design area. There the three of us watched and waited for some magic to happen.
Two hours later...
Tyler was asleep and there were only so many social media feeds I could go through without feeling like I was sinking. After some time the shop manager had placed us in this back room where the black chandler I had noticed earlier hung above my restless self. The three of us sat on a black couch that was encased by black floor to ceiling gates, making the room feel like a gothic holding cell. Through the cutouts of the gates I could see Rob working on my design. This day was not going at all how I pictured and the fear of how it would end engulfed my thoughts. Just as I thought I was going to lose it, my cousin turned to me with some words of wisdom, for without, I don't know if I would have gone through with the appointment.
Leslie explained that every artist, no matter what medium, has their process in which they work. She admitted that she is just as guilty of waiting till the last minute to seek inspiration. She went on to explain that maybe this is just “his process”. I reflected back on my own creative processes as a writer. I am painfully aware that creativity and inspiration don't always use the same clocks as the real world—an idea can strike at any moment. With those words, I sat back into the couch and decided to be patient.
Shortly after Rob stepped out with his design. A design I could have never imagined. I giggled to myself, "Ah the creative process." With a few tweaks and opinions from my brother and cousin, Rob set me up on the table and we got ready.
This story isn’t about the actual process of getting a tattoo. There are a million blogs for that, but I will say take your time and do your research, it does hurt, so be prepared and don’t forget about the healing process because it’s the worst part. Getting a tattoo can be an emotional journey. You are forever imprinting a part of your life onto your body, and for myself I had four hours on the chair to reflect on the reason behind my tattoo.
My mom had passed away from cancer roughly three years from the day of my appointment at Bang Bang. She had been taken too soon by cancer, but her love and bright spirit never left my family and me. This tattoo was for her. The design comprises of a delicate gold flower form a fairy tale my parents used to read to me as a young girl titled, "The Twelve Dancing Princesses." Around the flower Rob had designed blue and purple ombre angel wings to encompass and flow around the flower in a natural manner. The colors popped and complimented one another in a fashion I could have never envisioned. My mom always referred to me as her "rare and precious angel" whenever she signed my birthday cards or in conversation. The tattoo is a testament to her love, spirit and beautiful nature. Every day I carry her on my shoulder as my rare and precious angel—she is always looking over me.
