Tattoos if you please

So far when it comes to artistic output I’d say that I feel most comfortable with writing & photography.

Painting has a tendency to get me into trouble.

Painting has a tendency to embarrass the living shit outta me.

I think I had reached a place recently where I decided against blogging about this, but it really is too damn funny not to share. And it’s coming full circle, so I figured what the hell.

You see, there’s this painting. It originated from a vision I had while meditating. The vision bore the message of, “give birth to yourself.” Visually, I saw a being that was being transported thru an orb of light.

I painted it and it meant so much to me that I had it tattooed on my right calf.

Cut to: Seattle – fall of 2005. I decided to have it touched up. My tattoo artist turned out to be a really cool guy that used to run with an anarchist pack in Europe. We bitched about the U.S., we laughed our asses off – we really got along.

“So what exactly is this on your leg? Explain it to me again.”

I did.

He smirked and the artist next to us chuckled.

“What”

“Do you think that maybe it looks like something else?”

More laughter.

“Oh you mean the pussy thing? Well, yeah – I mean, technically that is a channel of rebirth, a portal, right?”

So the funny thing about this goddamned tattoo is that I never saw it – EVER – as resembling a pussy – not until numerous quantities of humans started pointing it out to me.

Now that it’s tattooed on my body (rather largely I might add) – now I see it.

Son of a bitch.

So, that day, an array of pussy jokes painted my tattoo session – so much so that we had to keep stopping b/c we were laughing so hard. And suddenly, as he colored into the lines of my orbish-painting, it felt immensely more intimate.
The laughter and pot-shots diminished and the tattoo was nearly completed.

At the time, their award-winning Asian artist was just arriving back from a stint in Japan. The space was excited in anticipation of his arrival. He got back while I was being worked on….walked into the room, looked down at my leg and grinned, ear-to-ear and exclaimed, “Nice pussy.”

Again, more laughter erupted.

That session ended with the tattoo artist asking me out. At the time, I told him I didn’t think it was a possibility but agreed that we certainly hit it off.

Cut to: yesterday.

Thru a friend I had reestablished a connection to a really cool girl, the tattoo artist who originated the “pussy” tattoo. She was supposedly living in West Seattle now.

Turns out she’s already moved again and is now living out-of-state.

Damn. I’m craving some work.

Cut to: today.

I decided what I wanted next and went back into the shop to make an appointment.

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This time it’s circles only – no more orby ellipses -- no more things that can resemble any vaginal-related jokes whatsoever.

And for those of you that have regular access to my acrylics, I challenge you to seek out the volume of “orbs” that present themselves... I swear, it’s always behind my conscious knowledge….

That’s what makes it so damned funny….