Utah-based tattoo artist Ashes Bardole transforms both skin and soul – and her debut poetry collection, Just a Romantic Collection of Words is out on 28 March. For years, Ashes’ tattoo chair has been more than a place for ink. It has been a space for people to process, heal and be seen. This book is an extension of that. Raw, intimate, unfiltered, it’s for anyone who‘s ever needed an outlet for their pain or a reminder that they aren’t alone. We chatted to the tattooist and poet ahead of the book’s release…
What made you want to publish your poetry collection?
Initially, I wrote all of this poetry just for me, never expecting it to become what it is today. At its purest form, this was creation for the sake of expression.
I wanted to take my feelings and put them outside of myself, so I could look at them and see them more clearly. To give them a life of their own so I could let go of them. It’s also an homage to all the people in my life who I love, have loved, will love. The change they and I have inspired in my life.
I am publishing this book in honour of my grandmother. She was an artist of many mediums, but a poet first and foremost. For the last two years of her life, she was quite literally on her deathbed, unable to write, her mobility and dexterity deteriorating. While that was happening, I was travelling and the fear of losing her was constant. However it also showed me the love and weight of her presence in my life. She is the reason I started oil painting, the reason so many beautiful parts of myself exist. Without her, I would not be where I am today.
The act of sharing my words came from a place of great love and heaviness, of experiencing the loss of my grandma. Before she passed, I told her I was writing a poetry book for her. She never got to read it, but her eyes lit up with joy when I told her.
What do you love about poetry?
It gets things out of my head and into a different space to see them. A moment of clear self reflection. I spent a lot of my life suppressing and avoiding my emotions because many of them were too big. Poetry gives them a space to be held and processed. I no longer suppress or turn away from my feelings. Poetry releases the stories we assign to the feelings, breaking it down into an abstract/vague thought leaving the raw emotion to be processed.
There are many times I turn to reading the poetry of others to help me understand my own feelings. Emotions are hard to describe and pinpoint. Often they’re complex and layered. You may be feeling sadness but also relief, or happiness. None of those feelings are wrong. Poetry gives you a language to feel and express the complexity and intricacies of the emotional experience without judgement.
In addition, reading poetry gives a sense of not being alone. Someone else somewhere has felt this similar thing, even if the details of the experience are different. The abstraction of poetry allows the connection of two strangers through shared emotional complexities that transcend specifics of language.
Poetry doesn’t have to be pretty or rhyme or follow specific rules – it is pure expression.
Why do you think people often spill their innermost thoughts while they are getting tattooed?
Part of this puzzle is being open to holding that space for others, as the artist, that really allows people to open up. Not to mention you spend hours with each other. They come in as strangers who have to inherently trust you because you are not only about to cause them pain — which is incredibly vulnerable — but also mark and alter their appearance forever. There are not many situations in which these conditions exist.
As an artist you also immediately skip the small talk. Additionally, I feel such curiosity and compassion for people, and this is the perfect environment to truly see another person without the filters they usually project. Once you are in physical pain, the facade you put up via social media or in public is immediately gone. Clients must let go of the extra mental work to be able to process the physical pain as it is happening. There’s no room to hide.
Tattooing can be a space of no judgement. The job of the artist is to witness that space your client is in and guide the experience. There have been times where I have asked just the perfect question that has allowed the space for a client to open up about some of the most difficult experiences in their life.
Pain is such a key player in this. Being in pain of your own choosing can give a sense of control. There is research that suggests the brain processes physical and emotional pain through similar neural pathways. This creates an opening and trigger point of connection within the brain allowing someone to share the things that have happened to them.
Also being in pain while being able to talk about pain is so cathartic. When I was getting my palms tattooed, it hurt so badly that I started to cry not just about the pain I was actively experiencing, but about every painful thing that had ever happened to me. It was a pain that transcended a physical space to allow for an emotional space to come forward. Whether a client chooses to talk about it or not, this process happens for everyone to an extent.
Why are tattoos so powerful in helping people heal?
The brain is an incredible thing and it also has specific needs to be met in order to process trauma. 1.) to be physically present in your body and in the moment and 2.) to have mental and emotional safety.
Many of us dissociate from our lives and from our physical form. I, for many years, ran away from my body and the pain I was feeling because of emotional trauma and chronic illness. When you leave your body like this, it makes it hard to be able to process the things that have happened to you. Your brain does not know the difference between a thought and perceivable reality. Thus, many people who experience PTSD are not grounded in current reality to realise that a flashback is just that, a past moment. They then experience that memory as if it is happening in real time causing reoccurring trauma. Which is why it is so necessary to be aware and grounded.
Many people turn to yoga, exercise, meditation to ground themselves in reality. However, tattooing bypasses that effort and forces you into your body. You cannot escape the feeling of getting tattooed. There is no other sensation in time or space that feels like getting a tattoo, so you could not possibly think you are anywhere else. It is the anchor point to the here and now, and that anchor is being experienced through your physical body.
The second part of this is mental and emotional safety. As a tattoo artist you have the opportunity to create that space. You have complete control in how you engage with your clients — how you speak, how you act, how you set up and guide the experience. Something as simple as checking in with a client during a procedure. Getting them water, and food. Making sure their basic needs are met so that they sit their best for the tattoo so you can do your best work. Those things are enough to fulfil that second requirement.
Personally, I cannot and do not want to separate this spiritual, transcendent space from tattooing. They belong together. Which is why I believe it’s important as a tattoo artist to go to therapy and resolve your own traumas so you can be a mirror and a listener without projecting your own traumas on to the client. You are giving them the space to express whatever they need to in that moment.
Do you think the art of tattooing and writing complement one another?
I feel that as an artist you cannot separate any art from another. All art forms complement each other. They are all an extension of ourselves, just different expressions of that extension.
The vulnerability my clients share with me within a tattoo space is being reciprocated through the form of poetry. Where I get to share my vulnerability with clients in a safe space. Themes that are outlined within the poetry book are shared within the tattoo space as well, there is so much crossover between the two.
My artwork in any medium draws inspiration from each other and also from my experiences in life. Those experiences help me create and also connect to other people. All of it is growth, all of it is expression, and the different vacillations of these invite different people to interact with me and with others in different ways.
Behind a discreet door on Duke Street, you will climb some stairs and enter a little haven with warm and welcoming therapists who can do anything from nail art and bikini waxes to make-up and 
