with the chisel still warm...
My upper right arm is still electric and throbbing from my latest tattoo. It is the finishing touches of my only military tattoo, which runs from the bend of my arm and up to the top of my shoulder-black, wet, and fierce. I fucking love to scare hippies with it.
The artist, Dymond, was in Afghanistan with me. A consummate warrior and artist, he has done work on most of my platoon. His daughter was helping him in the studio today, seeing the two of them together made something glow inside of me. His work has a precision and ferocity that fits my work, I think.
The next piece is being designed by Mikal (she did my fleur-du-lis), and will be a irezumi-style plate blending my left arm, shoulder, and chest.
There are days that life-my small and strange part in it-is such a gift, and I am so goddamned grateful for it. I am reminded of its urgency, that I don't have leisure time to fuck off with.
I'll be posting pictures of the whole menagerie of tattoos once I find someone around here who can take a decent photograph. My present company has left me a bit spoiled.
The artist, Dymond, was in Afghanistan with me. A consummate warrior and artist, he has done work on most of my platoon. His daughter was helping him in the studio today, seeing the two of them together made something glow inside of me. His work has a precision and ferocity that fits my work, I think.
The next piece is being designed by Mikal (she did my fleur-du-lis), and will be a irezumi-style plate blending my left arm, shoulder, and chest.
There are days that life-my small and strange part in it-is such a gift, and I am so goddamned grateful for it. I am reminded of its urgency, that I don't have leisure time to fuck off with.
I'll be posting pictures of the whole menagerie of tattoos once I find someone around here who can take a decent photograph. My present company has left me a bit spoiled.