artomatic stabbing...

...millions of them actually. i went to my artist, paul roe, not too many weeks ago, anxious for another round of jet black stabbed into my skin. i took the design, originally created for sweet trini, to paul with great anticipation for what would become my second tattoo. i had a very distinct idea of where these new images would be placed on my body and @ paul's suggestion found myself awaiting an appointment three weeks later to get inked @ the dc area's largest local art exhibit, artomatic. this year, 800 artists filled a 12story building with every kind of art imaginable (even a lawn chair made entirely of aluminum can tabs+wire). britishink's tattoo parlor could be found in the 12th floor ne corner penthouse... or you could just follow the buzzing, as many seemed to upon exiting the elevator.
i arrived for my 6pm appointment, ready to feel complete again and came to realise that it was 'meet the artist night,' meaning paul and his cohort cyn would be answering questions all night long, and i would be continueously answering the same question with the same answer: 'no, it tickles.' what started as a cloudy, dreary day suddenly became a beautiful skyline on two walls of the parlor as sun seemed to kiss the low, dark clouds and the newly green treetops with an incredible orange light, before eventually giving way to the horizon and turning those walls into the faces of the crowd behind me. the needle buzzing in one ear @ a time, i was able to watch the reflections of 'oohs,' 'ahhs' and 'ouches' on each viewer's face as they watched me literally becoming my own living art exhibit.
i found myself in my head a while, the buzz+tickle drowning out the questions+comments, leaving me to think about the new images being branded onto my body. their meaning, their purpose, how somehow they make me stronger; carrying with them a strength not my own, like armor passed down from a braver generation.
upon completion, just over 4hours after the first prick, i followed paul (who carried a large mirror) toward the restroom through artomatic with an immense sense of pride, displaying my work on my body; my canvas. it turned heads. the restroom+paul, decked out in his classic victorian drab, centered me between their mirrors so i could rejoice in the inks beauty and nearly shed a tear, before losing my head with excitement and the feeling of being whole again. it really was a great night.
the next 4 shirtless days were followed by 2weeks of sleeping on my stomach to allow the tattoo to heal proper. with a few touch-ups scheduled next week, i couldn't be happier with journey and the product. the images tell the story better than i do.