Session #19 (NYC)

At today's session, Shinji filled in the right side under my ass cheek—the part that was really shitty to get done on the other side. This session was a little easier, but not by much.

It was really disappointing to sit for two hours to see what looks like amazing progress when bending forward, only to see that skin fold under my ass when I stand, and see all that work compressed into such a small area compared to what I still have left to go. It reminds me of a joke:

A mohel walks into a leatherworker's shop. (A mohel is a person of the Jewish faith who performs ritual circumcisions.) The mohel places a jar on the counter and states that it contains the skin from all the circumcisions that he has performed over the years, and asks if something can be made from them. The man behind the counter tells the mohel to come back later in the month, and he will have something for him.

When the mohel returns, the clerk proudly hands him a wallet. "A wallet? asks the mohel. "There was skin from hundreds of circumcisions in that jar, and all I get is a wallet?!?"

"Ah, but wait," says the leatherworker. "When you rub it, it turns into a briefcase!"
 

Session #18 (NYC)

Today's appointment was an easy one. The outside of the thigh wasn’t bad; the back of the leg, above the knee, was a little worse. Shinji sounded like he was coming down with a cold. With his sniffling, I was reminded me of one of my sessions with Horiyoshi III when he was working on my arm on one of my last trips to Yokohama, in Japan:

Getting tattooed by hand, Japanese style, means instead of a Western-style tattoo machine, the tattooer is using a handle, maybe a foot long, to which a needle cluster is attached to the end. Assuming the tattooer is right-handed, the handle is held in the right hand, while the left rests on the client, putting pressure on the skin and guiding the handle’s end, where the needles are puncturing the skin. (A quick Google search turns up numerous videos showing the technique.)

In Horiyoshi’s case, the needle cluster is metal and able to be sterilized (run through an autoclave), while the back part of the handle was not. That being the case, he would use a glove on his left hand, the hand coming in contact with the skin, and sometimes leave his right hand ungloved. This made it easier for him to multitask, such as talk on the phone while tattooing—a typical conversation on his end was pretty much: “Hai…. Hai…. Ungh…. Ungh…. Hai…. Hai…." *click*—and it also allowed him, when he had a bad cold, to grab tissues, blow his nose, and dispose of the tissue with the ungloved hand—all while barely pausing the prick, prick, prick of the tattoo.

Now, Horiyoshi 3 followed standard precautions when tattooing, and being a piercer (and one who teaches classes in bloodborn pathogens), I had no doubts about the sterility of his tools and the cleanliness of his technique, but on the day when he had a bad cold—and was pausing every fifteen minutes of so to blow his nose—I was pretty sure within the next few days I was going to have a cold too.

And I did.

9/11 Memorial and Museum (NYC)

On the Saturday of Veteran's Day weekend I went with my sister to the 9/11 Memorial and Museum in New York City. It was a strange experience, visiting such a huge space dedicated to memorializing something that happened so recently.

The outside pools, in the physical locations of the old towers, are massive. The water flows down the sides of the recessed squares, falling into a hole where the bottom is purposefully just below the sight line, where the names of those who died in the attacks and punched out of brass, around the edges. It's a lot of empty, empty space.

The museum houses pieces—“memorabilia” isn't the right word; “artifacts" seems inappropriate for things of such a recent history—from the events of 9/11: coats, shoes, and gear from first responders; photographs and video, mostly from amateur photographers and journalists who happened to be close to the towers on that morning; and wreckage. The debris was… otherworldly. It looked like set pieces left over from a monster movie or a Japanese anime film: a section of the antenna from the second tower, looking like a piece of a crashed spacecraft; a fire engine, with the front cab and ladder smashed and twisted into a gnarled mess of steel tentacles.

There was a display of the stairs that were one of the final escapes taken by people fleeing one of the burning towers, titled the “Survivor’s Stairs.” The jagged slab was recovered and transported, whole, to the museum, where it is displayed parallel to a set of stairs still in use—but behind Plexiglas, like how you would view the stones from an Egyptian archeological artifact, and not a crumbled mess of cement and rebar.

Audio recording were interspersed throughout the exhibit: snippets of black-box recordings from the hijacked flights; messages left for loved ones from passengers calling from the pay-mobile phones on the planes. (Many recordings of “tell the kids I love them.”) The two most memorable were: 1) a woman describing fleeing from the debris of the falling towers, where she said she literally “ran out of her shoes,” and 2) a woman who was taken away in an ambulance, covered in debris after the second tower fell, who describes being told by the medical staff they need to make way for the expected rush of the injured. She said she looked at her companions and said, “Nobody’s coming…” because anyone who was trapped in the buildings when they fell didn’t survive.

It was all very affecting.

Session #17 (NYC)

Todays appointment was much easier than the last one. 

Despite my having such an intimate relationship with Shinji (see my previous post), I know very little about him. Whether it's that English is not his first language, or simply the fact that he's Japanese, Shinji is very economical with his words. We exchange polite greetings when I arrive (I offer the same to his apprentice), and the same when I leave. Except for the occasional direction ("Head here, please."), or requests to his apprentice in Japanese, the session usually lacks any conversation. I used to joke with Andi that I would pay extra if I could find I barber that I didn't have to talk to during a haircut—what is there to talk about, really?—so Shinji's style of tattooing is a good fit for me: no conversation, no machine buzz, and jazz playing. What could be better?

But still, I'm obviously interested in Shinji's story, so I was excited to be able to pick on a book this trip about his master, Horitoshi 1. I first saw the book offered on NY Adorned's Tumblr page, and after emailing him about it, I was happy to hear Shinji was going to be holding a copy for me.

The more I get tattooed, the more I realize the vast stylistic differences between Japanese tattooers, and that even I still struggle with a not-uncommon attitude that there is a singular look to Japanese tattooing—when is is really strikingly and obviously different from one tattooer to the next. And yes, I've read a good deal about Japanese tattooing, and searched out a great many books for my collection, but the published writing about the Japanese tattoo tradition in English is at best incomplete, and at worst ignorant and ill-informed—with often not a small number of Western prejudices and presuppositions as well. I haven't more than skimmed through this book, but we'll see how it rates: a book about the work of a Japanese tattoo master published in Italian by a publishing company who took the name "Chopsticks Productions." Hmmm.

Regardless, I'm really excited pore over the book and see the work—and to watch the accompanying DVD. Shinji is profiled on one page toward the back, along with other members of the Horitoshi "Family."

Session #16: Why am I doing this?

I’ve been feeling pretty discouraged lately about my tattoo. Each session seems to reinforce just how much more I have to go; how much time, and how much money I will be committing before I’ll be done. (Not even taking into account how hard it is to sit through each session.) I’ve been thinking about my good friend Jason’s description of his attitude when he was having his back worked on by Horiyoshi 3.

The story of his tattoo is an amazing one, which saw him coming to Horiyoshi with blank skin and leaving Japan, after living there for six years, with a full suit: neck to wrists to ankles tattooed, with just a small “river” left bare, running from his neck and including his genitals.

To give the abridged version of his first year: he went to Japan first for a week-long trip and had his back outlined over seven hour-long sessions. He came back to the U.S. for six months before moving to Japan on a three-year visa with a position lined up to teach English. It took him his first year to finish his back—and after that he just kept going.

I remember him talking to me about the first year being especially difficult, and feeling discouraged in much the same way I am. He was getting work done at the rate of one one-hour appointment every week. Traditionally, the background is typically shaded first, so it would be a little patch of black on his shoulder, and then a patch on his lower back, a patch on the back of his thigh, etc. After several months of this, he said he found himself questioning his decision: Why am I doing this? I left everything I had back home and moved halfway around the world to… get tattooed? Did I do the right thing? As the weeks turned into months, without being able to see much progress—and with little encouragement—he said he found himself really wondering if it was worth it.

This continued until he came to one appointment, about halfway through the year, and Horiyoshi told him, “Hurt arm,” rotating his shoulder to demonstrate what seemed like a sore elbow, “We use machine today.” “It is okay to reschedule, “ Jason said he told him. “No, is okay. Machine today,” he said.

That day, Jason said he started to add details to the large dragon’s head on his back: texture to the head, detail to the eyes. Jason said after the session he was so excited, as the dragon—and the tattoo—was finally starting to come to life. He talked to me about how this session re-energized him, and gave him the encouragement to push through.

I came to today’s appointment feeling the same sense of early discouragement that he described, wondering if it’s worth it.

The session stated the same way it normally does, as I greeted Shinji, his apprentice, and then changed into my fundoshi. (I apologized for missing last week’s appointment. There was a scheduling mix-up, and Shinji rescheduled me to this week.) I stood in front of Shinji, facing away, so he could look over the work from my last appointment. He then wiped down the area he was planning to work on—and today, he started at the crack of my ass, continuing down under my left cheek. Really?!? I thought. All right then…. I knew this was coming.

I started out lying on my side for about the first hour. After that, he had me lie down on my back, pulling my thigh into my chest. I thought it must look so incredibly silly; so much so that when Shinji’s apprentice came over I asked him to take a picture of the scene on my phone. Shinji worked quickly—more quickly than usual—I imagine because the position was so difficult to hold. Shinji’s really cooking, I thought. We’re finally making some progress!

After a little over half an hour, as I found it harder and harder to keep my thigh raised and my foot out of the way, Shinji called his apprentice over to hold my leg. What was initially silly became ridiculous. “Someone should take picture now!” Shinji joked—and luckily my cell phone was within arms reach for a tattoo selfie! I was in this position for about twenty minutes before Shinji called it a day.

I was glad to be able to finally put down my leg, and I rolled off the table and excitedly bent over in front of the mirror, looking at the progress through my legs. “Wow!” I said, happy with how much was done. But my excitement quickly dissipated when I stood up and looked behind me. The large area had become a very small one under the fold of my ass cheek. “It’s so small now….” I said. Shinji laughed, “Yes, much smaller when standing.”

Why am I doing this again?

Session #15 (NYC)

Today's session was rather uneventful—and not all that difficult to sit through. I thought we'd be continuing with the (awful) ass-crack area, but instead Shinji worked on my right thigh. About two and a half hours of work this trip, and it's slowly starting to take shape.

Session #14 (NYC)

Today's session was rather uneventful. I was worried, as I knew Shinji would be working on filling in the other side of my ass-cheek. It was bad, but it could have been worse.

My next session isn't until early July, so I have some time off until the next one!

If I Knew He Was Going to Pound My Ass Today, I Probably Would Have Rescheduled.

A woman walks into a tattoo shop and asks the artist to give her a tattoo spelling "DOUBLE ENTENDRE"—so he gave it to her.

I arrived a little late today, so I immediately got undressed. I put on my fundoshi—which barely covers anything—pulled the fabric between my legs and tucked it in the back. When I walked over to where Shinji was waiting, he had me turn around, and immediately untied the back of my fundoshi and exposed my ass.  So, it's going to be like that today? I thought. I'm not really ready for....well I guess it's okay....we have to do it sometime....

He had my lay on the table, on my right side. He started slowly, hesitantly, above the crack of my ass. He was gentle, almost knowing how much it hurt—and damn, did it hurt. He gradually got more forceful, until he was pounding away, over and over again. I was sweating, and my head was throbbing, but he didn't care about my discomfort—only what he was there to finish.

When I come for my next appointment I'm pretty sure he's going to give me more of the same.

Session #12: The End of Outlining (and the Start of Shading)

 Today Shinji finished the last of the outlining! I'm feeling a tremendous sense of accomplishment—and relief. We started a small amount of shading as well, but I left the appointment without a photo at the end—so pictures will have to wait for another post.

Old-school jazz today, which made the machine-free part even more enjoyable. I really do enjoy the quiet of the hand-poking work.

Session #11 (NYC)

On the way to my appointment today, as I walked through the streets from Chinatown to Little Italy, I passed a couple speaking Italian (at least I think it was), followed immediately by a woman speaking Mandarin Chinese (maybe?) to someone on her phone. It reminded me of something I read, from someone describing what they thought was one of the best things about the U.S. I can't find the source, but it was essentially: You can live in Italy for most of your life and still not be "Italian," but as soon as you move to the U.S., you're an American.

When I got to his studio, Shinji was listening to traditional American music. When I glanced over at his computer, it was playing an "American Primitive" album and/or station; a mix of early gospel, country, bluegrass and blues. The mix later changed to newer country: "Luckenback, Texas" and assorted Johnny Cash. I wondered: if I was doing what he does, and tattooing in Japan, would I be listening to Japanese "roots" music—like Shamisen?

We're almost completely finished the outline. Next visit we finish the lines around my neck and connect my back onto my chest pieces—and start shading.

Session #10: "Maybe is Better"

This is my first time getting tattooed in almost two months. It was nice to not have to worry about a trip to New York around Christmas shopping and visits with relatives and friends—but it was good to get back on schedule with my appointments.

The trip to New York was especially cold this morning, but it was especially warm in Shinji’s studio—almost stiflingly so.

Today was a lot of drawing to begin with, and this often makes for a rough start. During the first fifteen minutes I’m daydreaming, looking at any new photos of the work Shinji has decorating the walls. By the first half hour I’m trying hard not to shift my weight as my feet start to fall asleep. After forty-five minutes of standing in the same place I’m often lightheaded, and struggling to hold out while Shinji finishes. I had to stop and take a break partway through, and I was glad to finally be lying down when he finished sketching today’s line work.

But things just got more difficult, as today was the day to finish the inside of my right thigh, up to the crack of my ass, and own the other side. Getting the lines done on my inner butt cheeks was probably the worst so far—and that was just the outlines. I imagine the shading there will be just as shitty to sit through, if not worse. We will see.

Shinji called it a day after and hour and-a-half (which was fine with me). He finished the most tender parts on my butt, and then worked his way up my right side, to right below my armpit. (He started to connect to the Horiyoshi III piece on my right arm, which is exciting.) Afterward, like I usually do, I asked his apprentice to help with photos of my progress. I stood in front the drape separating the two rooms, legs about hip-width apart, with my back to the camera as he snapped a few cell-phone shots.

“Maybe is better,” Shinji said, “if his legs…” He motioned with his hands….

“Closer together?”

“Yes, legs together, I think.”

I stood with my feet together for the last few shots, thanked him, and headed out.

As I was going through the photos on the bus on the way home, I can see why Shinji made the suggestion: in the early shots my scrotum is especially prominent, distractedly hanging down between my legs in the early photos. Did I mention it was really warm in the studio today?

Yes, I thought, maybe is better.