I’m nervous, but the good kind of nervous. The kind that’s often called excited. And I’ve been feeling this good-nervous-excitement for what feels like an eternity. Real-time: three months.
Three months ago, I finally decided to DM @ar.bel, told her what I envisioned, and booked my tattoo appointment.
The tattoo itself is not the source of this nervousness. I have three already: a quote from my favorite movie, Almost Famous; the front-cover illustration of (one of) my favorite books, Stargirl; and the word “warrior” on my arm – make of that what you will. I do not shy away from needles. Vaccines? Bring it. Piercings? I got five in each ear. And tattoos? I want a million more, much to my mother’s disappointment. That is the source of the nervousness, that looming maternal disapproval.
After she eventually found out about each one – and I tried to hide them for as long as possible – it was the usual slew of Why would you do that? and You’re going to regret it when you’re older and Please don’t get any more, followed by a cold shoulder that lasted a couple of days after the first one, to just a couple of minutes after the third one. And I’m hoping it’ll be a couple of seconds after these next two pieces (yes, not one but two!).
I’m excited (an understatement) because this is the first time I’m getting a tattoo by an artist whose account I’ve scrolled through too many times to count. It’s also the first time I’ve had to wait an agonizingly long period to get inked.
I happened upon the 21-year-old artist’s page by chance. My explore page is filled with memes, movie/TV show fan edits, and tattoo pages – because Instagram’s algorithm is (kinda creepily) aware of my obsessions. While scrolling through picture after picture and filling with more and more jealousy of people who make their tattoo dreams a reality, I came across the handle @ar.bel, and when I saw she is based in LA, immediately followed. Months went by and my brain didn’t think of much else besides new tattoo! new tattoo! new tattoo! so I said, what the hell, DM her. Then waited (not so patiently) for three months.
For my other tattoos, I had the idea and needed it on my body at that exact moment, or at least within a week of that exact moment. I simply chose a shop not too far in location, scrolled through their Instagram, and when I didn’t totally hate what I saw, I sat or lay in the chair and prayed that by the end I didn’t hate how the permanent ink looked on my skin.
This time around will be different. I know it will look good because Arbel’s work is good (another understatement). If you scroll to the bottom of her page, before ink on skin, there’s pen on paper—sketches of rappers like Tupac and Biggie, artists like Salvador Dalí and Frida Kahlo, and portraits of friends—all so detailed and precise they seem produced by a lens and not a hand. Her tattoos are fine-line and black-and-grey, consisting of lots of angels, skeletons, obscure portraits, and much more—I’m convinced she can draw anything.
The fateful day arrived and I was accompanied by my Tattoo Buddy—the friend who’s been with me for almost every tattoo and vice versa. She has four, also to her mother’s disappointment, and will likely get a sleeve if no one stops her. While driving, while waiting on the grey couch in Arbel’s private studio, and every moment in between, Tattoo Buddy squeezed my arm and said, “Dude, I’m so excited for you!”
Then the moment came; I was sitting in the black chair, a needle was puncturing ink into my epidermis, and the familiar low buzzing hum of her gun was a welcome sound that I genuinely missed hearing.
Here’s what I learned in the chair: she was born in Burbank and raised in Calabasas; in her second-grade yearbook she wrote that she wanted to be an artist; she was homeschooled in high school and was a tattoo apprentice from 16 to 19; and most interestingly, the tattoo idea was suggested by her mom.
What’s also interesting is Arbel herself doesn’t have many tattoos. I thought she had zero but found out she has one on each shoulder, hidden under her T-shirt. Still, it was another first to be tattooed by an artist with hardly any ink themselves.
“Do you plan on getting more?” I asked.
“Yeah. My parents still don’t want me to get tattoos, so I kind of held back for a while. But at this point, I’m like, fuck it.”
That’s one thing our parents have in common.
“That’s funny, your mom said you can tattoo but don’t get any yourself.”
“Exactly.”
Though Arbel’s reasoning is quite rational:
“I love them. I personally didn’t get into it, because I was so in love with the idea of tattoos as a form of art. I think they say a lot about someone, I can instantly tell what someone’s taste or style is just by their tattoos, what kind of person they are in a weird way. That’s why it took me a while because I feel like I was waiting to figure out exactly what my style was before I went all crazy with it.”
I think we can all guess a person’s style by their tattoos, more or less. For example, a person with a lotus flower or writing in a language they don’t speak is probably a spiritual person in tune with good energy or vibes. Or a person with a compass or map may have gone backpacking on a quest to find themselves. (No judgment, and no judgment about my tattoos and what they probably say about me.)
Of course, tattoos don’t have to have a specific meaning. They’re just cool and a way to decorate the canvas that is our skin. So why the negative stigma? Why the nervousness and need to hide them?
For Arbel, it’s not right to place someone in a box because they have tattoos, though she thinks people ought to be responsible.
“If [someone is] 18 years old and doesn’t even have a job yet and gets knuckle or hand tats, that’s kind of gnarly…I think that you should chill with getting super crazy tattoos until you have a solidified job and income and everything.”
“I respect anyone that doesn’t want tattoos but when I talk about getting a tattoo to my sister and she says, ew don’t get that—I don’t like that at all. I don’t think there’s a problem with it, it’s self-expression at the end of the day. And if it makes someone feel good about themselves, there’s no reason for anyone to think down on it. And it’s a bummer, but it totally makes sense. Tattoos were a strictly gang-affiliated thing back in the day. I feel like it’s mostly the older generations that are really strict about what they think about them. I think anyone that grows up in our generation is definitely way more chill about it.”
It’s true that tattoos were tied with gang association, and media depiction didn’t help portray them in a positive light either. The archetypal Bad Boy or the older Scary Guy in movies and television wasn’t without ink, and teen rebellion meant secretly getting a tattoo. But would it still be considered rebellion if tattoos weren’t seen as such a taboo? Not to say that tattoos should be the norm, because everyone has different reasons for deciding not to be permanently inked, but they should not be the deciding factor on whether someone is a “good” or “bad” person.
“So, what do you have to say to my mom, other moms, or anyone else who buys into the negative stigma around tattoos?” I asked as she was finishing up on my fifth one.
“I think that back in the day, there was just one very basic style of tattooing, which was like thick lines, colorful, really aggressive tattoos,”—you know the kind—“which I can see, being on your innocent child, looks kind of trashy. But at this point, there are such delicate, almost elegant tattoos that are more artistic. As long as your child does their research and gets something of good quality and it doesn’t look bad…Like, if you just walked in a shop and tried to get these sparkles, they’d be thick and ugly and janky. At least you are smart enough to get it well done.”
And she’s right, they do look good.
I left the black chair with new fairy-esque sparkles dusted on my shoulder and an exquisitely drawn crown on my other arm (make of that what you will). I will hide these from my mom as long as I can, but when she inevitably sees them, I think there’ll be some admiration for the fine line work in between the lecturing and shaking of the head.
Tattoos have been around and they’re going to stay around. It’s time that the concern be less about what tattoos imply about a person’s character, and more about the permanence of them and what people decide to get—because if we’re being honest, we make questionable choices sometimes. Either way, I’m probably (absolutely) going to get more, most likely (definitely) by Arbel, and doubtless to a certain family member’s disapproval. Sorry, mom.
