I've found my dream tattooist. That's the good news. The bad news is he lives in France. Of course, since I'm unlucky, he just left Williamsburg a few months ago. He comes to the U.S. once in awhile and works out of a shop literally two blocks from where I subletted earlier this year. I'm gonna stalk him until he shows up again. Or to go France, whichever is less logical.
I was looking at Picasso and Miro sketches, and stumbled upon Noon's work. His style is so unique and the work is so detailed. Some people donate their body to science, well, I'm donating my skin to Noon. He's got this one tattoo that has everything I'd want: stars, rockets, fish, robots. And I am obsessed with his clouds. But I don't want to dictate to Noon what I want, I'll just let him do his thing. You don't go up to artists and say, "Hey, gimme this this and this." No, I believe in just letting them do what inspires them.
In the meantime, I found this other fantastic artist in San Diego. I think I'm going to give her my forearms. I hope she can work with the spindly canvas. Her stuff is wonderful patterns and sort of mehndi-like. I absolutely love her use of shading and negative space. She's out of the country until late September, otherwise I'd be camped outside her shop this week. Instead I'll just go surfing -- something you can't do with fresh tattoos -- and wait patiently for her return.
It's been four years since I've gotten a tattoo. That's utterly ridiculous. With luck, I'll rectify that ten fold by the end of the year.
My friend Wendy has the most drool worthy tattoo, done by Yann Black. It's a minimalist bird and the simple lines that stretch down her arm to tie the piece together blow my mind every time I see it. Turns out Yann and Noon worked together to develop their styles. Of course.
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