Starting a Career as a Tattoo Artist

Monday, July 19th, 2010 by Little Dave Parker

Tags: tatto artist, tattoo apprenticeship, tattoo business
Posted in Archived Columns |

Hello, hello, hello, my minions. I hope everyone’s entrance into the summer months has been a relatively pleasant one.  I, for one, am experiencing my annual recognition of my love and appreciation for central air conditioning.  I don’t know who invented it, but I’d buy him a beer.

This month I want to address an issue that comes up for every tattoo artist. A question that (amongst others) we get asked all too frequently: how does someone become a tattoo artist?
The answer, my children, is both simple and complicated, but I’m going to do my best to lay it out for you; at the same time, I’ll show you some embarrassing photos from my early career.

First of all, it’s important to know there is a right way and a wrong way to go about tattooing.  Although the right way is still practiced, the wrong way is more widespread than any of us would like it to be.  Keep in mind that this is only my opinion, but then again, I’m always right.

The wrong way (despite it’s being so commonplace) is that of “self-taught” tattooists.  I could go on and on about the lack of ethics, respect, and legality of this, but I can pretty much sum it up this way: If tattooing was something people could simply “teach themselves,” everyone, including your mother, would be a tattoo artist.

It is the belief of this humble artist, the best way to ensure a promising career as a tattooist is to pursue a traditional apprenticeship.  One of the last true apprenticeships, since morticians can just go to mortuary school now.  I think the only other apprenticeships left are those of SORCERERS! bad joke.  I apologize.  Back to the point.

 

 

 

The traditional apprenticeship dates back as far as the electric tattoo machine and probably further.  It consists of, duh, an apprentice and a mentor, a student and teacher, as it were.  Think of it as The Beatles being apprentices and Bob Dylan being their mentor in the art of smoking weed.  Student and Teacher.

Now, all apprenticeships are different, all with their own details and dynamics.  Sometimes the mentor is more of a friend, other times more of a “father” figure (in a non-creepy way). It’s usually somewhere between the two.  Traditionally, an apprenticeship boils down to one thing: DO WHAT YOU’RE TOLD.  Given that everyone’s experience is unique, “what one is told” changes from situation to situation.  But in all successful cases, the apprentice adheres to this simple rule.  Clean the shop, scrub the toilets, buy smokes, answer the phone, talk to walk-ins,

schedule appointments, order lunch, clean equipment, set up the artists’ work stations, and, afterward, ask what else you can do.  It’s no fun.  It’s not supposed to be.  It’s not immediately rewarding.  Believe me, it’s not supposed to be.  It’s supposed to test your drive and dedication, to see if you’re worth teaching.  During my own apprenticeship, I was working 70 hours a week completely unpaid. And yes, it was the most miserable AND educational 14 months of my life.

An apprenticeship is supposed to suck.  If you enjoyed yours, you might not have served a real one.  Sure, between the hours of being the shop slave, you will study your mentors’ tattooing and even work on artwork of your own, but this learning experience should and will be countered with endless demands for seemingly useless tasks.  I’ve even known tattoo artists to send their apprentices over to unrelated local business to perform chores when there was nothing to be done at the tattoo shop.  Embarrassment and ridicule … these are the apprentice’s daily mistresses.

Why, you may be asking, would one go through this?  I mean, after all, your cousin knows a guy who’s self taught, been doing it 20 years.  Well, I’ve seen people who’ve done if for longer and STILL don’t have a grasp on things I learned when I was still sweeping the floor.  Just because someone’s tattooing doesn’t mean they’re doing it correctly.  Here’s a hint:  if a tattoo artist personally refers to their equipment as “guns” or “professional,” then stay away.  A real professional doesn’t need to tell you his tools are such. It’s the same as a plumber advertising they use “real wrenches.”

In the end, every artist is different, as is every tattoo.  However, most good artists out there today paid their dues and ate shit for as long as it took to get where they are.  I’m proud to include myself as one of them, but there is nothing more insulting than an amateur asshole who drew a couple of pictures, ordered some 3rd-rate tools off of ebay, and decided to give himself the same job title.  It’s frustrating because it lumps us together with people who do nothing but ruin peoples’ skin, and making our job harder when we have to cover up their mistakes.

I apologize for the serious nature of this entry, kids, but its something other artists and myself take very seriously, indeed.  It’s the seriousness that keeps us dedicated to our craft and should motivate you to seek out a true artist for your tattoo, not “some guy” working in a garage.

Okay.  I’m done ranting.  Time for a drink.

Until next time, kiddies…