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That’s how magic happens: The tattoos of Blvck Mamba

Liam Blvck (@theblvckmambatattoo) crafts contemporary blackwork tattoos at Bebop Ink in Vancouver, Canada. Liam combines their heritage of Chinese and European culture into dark, fantastical artworks which straddle the line between the above and the below, much like the lines Liam tells us they have existed between throughout their career and life…

What inspired you to become a tattoo artist? Did you complete an apprenticeship, if so what was this like? I’ve been fascinated by tattoos since I was young when I saw all of my favourite band members covered in tattoos, it really intrigued me. I remember thinking “can I just wear my favourite art on my skin forever?”

I was the only arty child in my family, and my family thought I would pass that phase as I got older, but I didn’t. I didn’t really think about being a tattooer until I was 16. When it really struck me how I was extremely into body modification and that I would love to do anything related to art, but at the same time I’m wasn’t interested in just painting on a canvas and selling my art in a gallery. After high school, I ended up going to art school which really reinforced the idea of becoming a tattooer. It took me years to find a proper apprenticeship, but I managed to find one at a street shop.

Luckily my mentor was willing to guide me through the process, even though it was a learning curve for both of us. I was his first apprentice ever. Most of the people who worked there were apprenticed under another boss, and I was the exception which kind of made me the black sheep. I was taken through extreme ups and downs when it came to my learning, because I wasn’t taught the way my boss was as an apprentice. I felt like I needed to learn faster and work harder to prove myself.

Can you tell us about your own tattoos, and the process behind these – how do you settle on a design or choose an artist? I’ve collected a handful of tattoos from different artists around the world; each of the pieces represent my growth as a person, and what I was going through at that time. Most of the tattooers I find are from tattoo magazines I’ve purchase, word of mouth, tattoo conventions and artists of the late 90s/early 2000-esque from a website hosted on Angelfire. I was on more of a scavenger hunt for tattoos back then, instead of just going on Instagram like you do now.

I used to believe every tattoo had to have a meaning in order to get it permanently on my body, and I was told if they didn’t I’d regret it for the rest of my life. Surprisingly, some of my most meaningful tattoos have now been covered. The older we are, it seems that we look back on things and the feelings we had have changed. Nothing stays the same forever, every day we grow as a person. I came to the realisation that it’s okay to just simply appreciate something in the moment, overthinking it would make things complicated.

Most of my tattoos at this point don’t have any meaning, rather I loved the work the tattooer had put out. I simply want what they’re good at, not just the styles, but the subject matters they’re interested in too.

Do you have a favourite tattoo either on your own body or one you have created? Every tattoo I’ve created I’ve loved in different ways, that’s pretty much asking someone to pick their favourite children!

But I would say my favourite tattoo on my own body would be my black-out arm. It was a cover up of a sleeve I’ve got when I was between 18 and 20. It showed how much I had changed as a person, and I realise back then I was still exploring my self identity, as a woman at that time, and as a non-white. Underneath layers and layers of black is a super colourful sleeve that even had an owl with neon pink wings! The black-out took me two to two and a half years to finish, each layer was done by a different coworker that I trusted. The experience of a black-out arm is so different than that of getting a design, it’s a different level of commitment, and it’s something that’s hard to describe until you’ve experienced it on your own.

How would you describe your work? Do you think your experiences have shaped the tattoos you create? Although I was born in Canada, the majority of my childhood was spent in Hong Kong. Hong Kong was colonised by the UK at that time and so I was exposed to European culture along with my own people’s culture. European art was always my favourite because I’m obsessed with how humans can achieve such levels of details in their craft or artwork. Also I was into heavier music and often old European art would be featured on album art and merch.

My work is a fine line between European-esque art, and my life experiences of living on the line between Western and Chinese culture – my identity, my skin, gender, mental health collides with European occult imagery. It’s abstract and complicated.

What kinds of tattoos do you love to do, what designs get you excited? Is there anything you’d like to create or a particular concept you’d like to explore? I would like to continue with the occult aesthetic in my work, but take it more into a surrealism direction. Loving what you do and taking it to another level is the truest growth of oneself.

How would you describe your experience as a queer tattooer in the tattoo industry? Does this influence the spaces you tattoo in? I started out as a cis woman in the industry and I experienced the struggle of being part of the boy’s club. I still notice how I get treated differently compared to white colleagues, and often I get the harsh end of it all. Even the clientele at the beginning of my career treated me poorly because most of the folks that came to me did so because I’m not white, they assumed that they could get a deal on the tattoo they wanted.

I also have experienced male tattooers putting me into uncomfortable situations, such as commenting on women’s appearances, wanting to meet me outside of the workspace for a “consultation” and when I’ve gotten a tattoo from them their arm is positioned in a questionable area.

When I realised that I’m non-binary, and started to dress more queer it was another segregation on top of what I had already experienced. I feel sometimes that the community itself questions my queerness and my right to the space because I’m married to a cis man and therefore I’m not queer and non-binary enough. I was still treated as a cis woman, and my chosen name threw people off and some of them got a bit uncomfortable when they had shown up to their consultation and were expecting to get tattooed by a male tattooer.

All of these experiences, have shaped me. I want to tattoo in a queer friendly safe space where all bodies, race, genders are welcome. Both tattooers and clients give so much trust to each other and vulnerability, in this space judgement and hate is not tolerated. Getting a tattoo shouldn’t be scary and you shouldn’t leave with a traumatic experience.

I’ve read that you’ve explored your craft in a lot of different countries is there a place or moment that stood out for you? I’ve travelled to a few places throughout my tattoo career, I always get inspired by my experiences. Also seeing how other tattooers that I admire love and perfect their craft, gives me the motivation and validation to know that you create your own journey within this craft. There’s no such thing as one art being superior to others, your craft is created by a collection of experiences. The people who come to you do so because they connect with your creation, and that’s how magic happens.

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Tattoo collector in lockdown

It’s been three months and seven days (who’s counting?) Since my last tattoo, and I know one of the first things I’m going to do, when it’s safe to do so, is get a new one. I think I may even be longing for that new tattoo itch. That may be pushing it a bit too far, but I definitely miss getting tattooed.

For me a new tattoo is usually an excuse to see a new part of the UK, a day trip by myself or with a friend – an adventure. Where I can get tattooed, meet a new artist, discover some good food and a new place in the process. Last year I even stayed away for a night, on my own in a hotel, which may not be much for some people, but for someone with anxiety this was worth celebrating. I travel miles and hours to get tattooed, sometimes booking months in advance to allow me to save and plan out my day. Aside from checking train travel and Google Maps, I’m scouring Instagram for restaurants, shops and things to do after I’ve been tattoo.

It’s not just the excitement a new tattoo brings that keeps me adding to my collection. The freedom to add something new to my body, taking ownership and decorating this home I live in with something I’ve chosen or dreamt up. A little collaboration between myself and an artist, it’s pretty special. This time has been tumultuous, unsettling and disruptive for many, but I’m grateful that it’s allowed me to slow down. I was chatting to a friend (on the phone) about how we’ve found ourselves with even more time to think of new tattoos ideas and to discover new tattooers. My screen time and my tattoo wish list have definitely increased, but I’m ok with that. With lives on pause there is space to admire and look at our bodies, at all the gaps we can fill and that perfect placements for that new design not yet created.

Unfortunately tattoo artists now find themselves temporarily out of work, however many are drawing, posting new commissions and artwork almost everyday. The flurry of creativity has me lusting after every post, every possible sketch could be my next tattoo. My tattooers-to-get-tattooed by list is growing by the minute! In this new expanse we find ourselves in with free weekends and an empty calendar, it seems only natural to start booking in, buying gift vouchers or leaving deposits for what feel like almost imaginary tattoo appointments. Claiming those designs before anyone else does, filling our walls with tattoo prints and art are ways we can offer support to an industry on pause.

If anything this time has helped me to reaffirm just important tattooing is, how much of my life I dedicate to this art. As well as cementing how tattoos allow me to be my authentic self, that they’re an even bigger part of my identity that I first thought. Lockdown has also shown all of us just how fleeting and precarious everything is, showing us what matters and what doesn’t. Before this time I worried whether people (strangers) liked my tattoos or if they thought differently of me because I have them. Of course this doesn’t matter, and I’m not going to let these hang-ups stop me from getting more prominent tattoos. The first new tattoos I’ll get will be on my fingers, and they will be glorious.

Words: Rosalie Hurr

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Sewing tattoos into skin: Laura Taylor

Laura ‘LAET’ Taylor creates sensationally beautiful tattoos at Sri Yantra Tattoo, Oakland California. We chat to the artist about her craft and inclusivity within the tattoo world…

You describe yourself as a skin seamstress, can you tell us a more about this? I started using my mother’s sewing machine at around five years old. One day, she sat me down in front of her sewing machine, and as I picked up the machine technique, I discovered that I found machine sewing enjoyable. I would make quilts and clothes, little projects that grew into big projects, experimenting with a variety of fabrics and bold colours as I went along.

Fast forward 15 years, I went to Central Saint Martins school of Art and Design in London, a place that celebrates courageous free-thinkers and creative innovators. Going to that art school was a game changer for me. I felt seen by the staff and inspired. Being at CSM made me realise my passion for textiles was a legitimate endeavour, as I saw the same spark amongst the textiles students. I studied illustration there, and was able to work on my draftsmanship. I’ve always been looking for a creative space that combines my love of drawing and technical sewing with textiles. Tattooing has become that space for me. The intricacies of my tattoo designs often feel like embroidery as I am constructing them, and so the term ‘Skin Seamstress’ came to mind and has stuck with me.

How long have you been tattooing and what drew you to the industry? This year (2020) will be my 18th year in tattooing. It’s a pretty surreal feeling. I’m in my 30s and I’ve already been tattooing for over half of my life. It’s weird. I’ve been tattooing for far less time than a lot of folks, but a lot longer than others. Enough time to see enormous shifts and passing trends.

I’d say I prefer the way things are headed. A little more conscious, a bit more inclusive. It keeps the bar high, with artists producing higher quality work along with happier clientele.

The experience that drew me to tattooing was the first time I saw a tattoo on a person. It was the ’90s era of London, England, outside the Commonwealth Institute on Kensington High Street. I saw a woman walking towards me on the street. She had a huge red mohawk, fully sleeved up, and Doc Martens. She owned that road with her presence, and her confidence shone. I was four years old. I decided right there and then that I would tattoo.

How would you describe your experiences as woman tattooer, especially in the light of recent events within the industry? I would say that things have improved, slowly but surely. The industry is witnessing shifts as the cultural conversation progresses and society moves forward. Being a woman in this industry used to put you in a minority group, but equally that gives you more chance to make a difference and lead for the change you’d like to see. I believe in equality, I believe we are getting there one conversation at a time. I see changes and I remain hopeful, and as always, empowered.

What does tattooing mean to you? Both the work you create and the tattoos on your own body. Freedom. Tattooing is freedom to me. Artistic expression and freedom. Something worth striving for. A great aspect of tattooing is the ability to travel with your job. Tattooing opened up opportunities for me to move to the United States, and develop my skills in more depth. The work I create is heavily influenced by my love of textiles and nature. People will ask me for my flowers, which I will never tire of! Nature is a brilliant resource and teaches us so much.

I personally have a collection of blackwork from about 15 different artists from the UK and the states. Some is ornamental blackwork, some is very gothic blackwork, some is dotwork, and some is punk style/prison style blackwork.

How would you describe your style? What inspires your creations? My style is intricate and detailed for sure. Clients will approach me asking for large-scale pieces, and to keep things intricate. I’d say this is where my seamstress tendencies come into action; often my tattoos look like textiles on skin. I am inspired by my biracial heritage too. I grew up in a British multi-racial household with a variety of vibrant cultures surrounding me. I try to allow this to flow through me into my work.

What do you love to tattoo and what would you like to do more of? Nature is always going to be a favourite theme for me. It offers up endless possibilities. I’m always down to tattoo floral tattoos.

Growing up in London, I felt the medieval and gothic architecture of the city calling me. I’m a Camden Town goth chick for sure, and spent a lot of time in the London goth scene as a teenager. Over the years I can see those style tendencies come through in my work. So anything gothic will always speak to me personally.

We love your rich, opulent colour palette, do you prefer to work in colour or black and grey, or is this like choosing a favourite tattoo – impossible? Tough question! When I tattooed in London, I was known for gothic ornate blackwork. Clients would mainly ask me for black and grey. I was expanding on the celestial style sun and moon pieces I like to do, and I’d tattoo a lot of depictions of tarot cards. Once I started travelling to the states, I’d already done some vibrant pieces. Mainly tattoos of brightly coloured peonies or chrysanthemums. I started receiving a lot more interest in my colour work, once I came to the States. I guess the colour thing really took off. It’s pretty cool, looking back on that, to think about how much my colour style blew up, even after I was known for a completely different style.

We’ve heard than many tattooers may often refuse to tattoo dark skin, is this something you have experienced? If you do not know how to tattoo all skin tones within society, you do not know how to tattoo. So you’d better learn. Tattoos look brilliant on black and brown skin tones. If you don’t know how to display your work on these tones, you are missing out. 

How can we make the tattoo scene more inclusive? What changes would you like to see, do you have any advice for black artists? I think that some important steps forward are being made. I don’t believe overall that tattooing is the racist place it used to be. Tattooing reflects society, and as society continues to be diverse, so should tattooing. Accepting this, is a simple but huge step forward. I would encourage any black artist with a passion for the craft to get involved. It is hard work, you must be committed, but it is also a birthright and something to be very proud of. 

Is it important that we call out cultural appropriation when we see it? How can people who profit from this turn things around? I’ve been watching cultural appropriation get worse (especially in England, as we are not taught about our colonial empire building heritage) I used to think it was not important, but now I’ve seen where it has lead us, and as the cultural conversation progresses I’d like it to be more considered. Just think about the marginalised cultures that do not benefit. Tattooing is alive within society, we exist because of our diverse clientele, and I would like to see tattooing reflect and be respectful to that. 

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“I love tattoos. I am a woman. And I happen to be Black”

Ermine Hunte always believed that the tattoo world was inclusive, until she encountered neo-nazi symbolism and open racism at tattoo conventions…here’s her story

words: Ermine Hunte

I was initially apprehensive about writing this piece. Partly because I’m aware that there’s ‘fatigue’ and partly because it’s a prickly subject.

I’ve been into tattoos and tattoo art from as long as I can remember. I also have a love for pin-up art and style. I’ve been going to tattoo conventions since the days of the Quadrant in Dunstable. The international convention in London was like my tattoo Christmas! I still have a love for them, but in the last few years that love has waned.

Unfortunately, the love doesn’t always go both ways. Why?

That word of the moment: race.

I can already imagine the eye rolling and tapping/clicking away from this article, and that’s ok. Those people will always be those people. I’m not talking to them, fuckers. I’m talking to the people who purport that tattooing is inclusive.

I had always believed that the tattoo ‘family’ were inclusive. That it didn’t matter who you were, as long as you loved tattoos. There’s the old adage, ‘The only difference between tattooed people and non-tattooed people, is that tattooed people don’t care if you’re not tattooed’. A naive belief, perhaps, but I held it all the same.

Being 41, I remember when tattoos were seen as the reserve of sailors and criminals. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint, the likes of footballers and people in the public eye (I’m loathe to call them celebrities) have made tattoos more mainstream. That bleed-through means all sections of society are now being tattooed. That brings with it people who are not open- or broad-minded.

The tattoo industry has its cliques. It’s very evident when you go to conventions. However there’s an undercurrent of thinking, by some people, that the industry should stay white.

In January, Oliver Peck left the show Ink Master because of blackface photos resurfacing. At the time his apology wasn’t exactly sincere. And for people with that viewpoint, it never is. Recently he’s been making anti-racism posts in the wake of the George Floyd murder. I believe people can learn and grow, but I always have that part of me giving him a side eye just in case, because it was a long-held viewpoint and there are plenty of examples of his viewpoint out there.

I’ve been to tattoo gatherings/conventions where there’s been open racism both around me and directed towards me. From artists who celebrate neo-nazi symbolism to attendees sneering at my presence. I’ve been asked why I’m there. Why I’m not wearing a cleaner’s uniform. Why I’m wearing ’50s inspired clothes, when I should be wearing slave rags. I’ve been asked if I’m only there to sell drugs. The ‘what’s point of getting tattooed if you have dark skin?’ question. The ‘Shouldn’t you be covered in/getting some tribal shit?’ question. Asked why I want to be white so bad because I want to be tattooed.

Tattooists have said that it’s too hard to tattoo dark skin, or subsequently to photograph it. To me that’s an admission of failure as an artist *shrug*. Because if that were me, I’d want to be creating fantastic pieces for all skin tones. I’d have the ring light or whatever is required to take that photo. Pushing and striving to be the best tattooist, whoever a client is. That attitude, to me, is defeatist. I said what I said!

Tattooists really need to remember that in the same way that there is a Pink Pound, there’s a Black Pound. You’re losing business. We know that in this industry personal recommendations go a long way. Who would want to spend money with an artist who avoids black skin? Why should black people only go to black artists? As much as we want to support black artists as black people, not everyone caters to the style of tattoo that a client may want. There may not be a polka-trash black artist on the scene or whatever. I’m not taking away from black artists at all, I am however, exhausted at the thought that we even should be having this conversation in 2020.

Technology, machinery, inks have moved on in recent years and it’s for all of us to push forward inclusivity.

Silence against racism is complicity. It’s not enough to be against racism. You have to be actively anti-racist. Racists should never feel comfortable in their racism. If you see it or hear it, challenge it. Smiling and nodding to fit in is not only weak, it’s giving the aggressor more confidence. It’s emboldening them.

Education is key. Talk to your black friends. If you’re an artist I’m sure a black client would be happy to give up some skin if it helped you be a more inclusive and experienced artist. Hell yeah I’d do it!

I love tattoos. And I happen to be a woman. And I happen to be Black. I’m no longer naive but I’m hopeful for the future of the industry.

Sending love to all

Photo of Ermine from Things and Ink Issue 9 Photography and Art Direction: Josh Brandão
Bespoke Costumes by Bridgette Cocchiola
Styling by BlitzHaus Shot @ BlitzWerk Studio, London

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The tattoo world’s me too moment #tattoometoo

Last weekend, we stood in support of the hundreds of brave women who took to Instagram to tell their stories of sexual abuse at the hands of some prominent male tattoo artists – under the hashtag #tattoometoo. This in turn sparked an intense public discussion about what’s normal and acceptable between an artist and client.

by Alice Snape.

Content warning: sexual assault, rape, trauma.

We have known for far too long that parts of the tattoo world are toxic, and performative masculinity has been allowed to thrive. Many tattooers have operated outside the law for so long that there are no set boundaries. No rules to know what is and isn’t okay, making young women in particular very vulnerable. The lines are blurred. You’re in pain, uncomfortable, it can be hard to realise when boundaries are being crossed.

If you have been sexually assaulted while getting tattooed and feel able to, I urge you to report it to the police. I am also compiling stories so please do email me, alice@thingsandink.com (you can, of course, remain anonymous). What I have realised, from my own experience and hearing that of others, is that we often don’t realise at the time that mistreatment or abuse is happening. Stories I have heard so far range from rape and abuse to moments that have made women feel uncomfortable – for example being told to take off their bra when they don’t need to, so an artist’s face can hover too close to their flesh, or ordered to expose themselves unnecessarily without cover. . .

We’ve also probably all witnessed those who shrug off tattooist’s behaviour, with things like: ‘Well you know what they’re like’.

“I just wanted to mention the “banter” you so often have to put up with in male-dominated tattoo spaces,” one woman DM’d me. “It’s like you get forgotten about and that actually you might not want to hear about so and so’s body. I spoke out once when the four guys were rating women out of 10 and there was no apology or anything, just a grunt. I never went back. I just felt unwelcome and uncomfortable.”

The tattoo industry is not the sort of industry that has a central body, there are no HR departments or DBS checks. There are no set rules. You can view a discussion I had with tattoo artists, Dolly, Gemma May and Lucy, on YouTube about ways we can tackle sexual assault in the industry, including the possibility of seminars and training.

Earlier this year, we posted a feature I wrote about getting a tattoo finished by another tattooist (read it here: If I Could Turn Back Time). Tattoo collectors have long felt bound by an outdated moral code about tattooists owning the tattoo on your body. That is not true. If you feel uncomfortable with your artist, don’t feel like you need to carry on getting tattooed by them. It’s your tattoo and your body. You are not privileged to get tattooed by an artist, it is their privilege to mark your skin. You must feel like you are being treated with respect, and if you’re not you can leave.

The tattoo world needs to and must change. This feels like the start of something. We must put a stop to the normalisation of sexual harassment – in EVERY SINGLE FORM in tattoo shops, at conventions and inside the doors of private studios. Male tattooists should not be able to take advantage of their position of power to physically or mentally abuse and take advantage of their clients who put their trust literally into their hands.

Tattoo artists Dolly and Gemma May have also teamed up to create Tattoo Me Too Recovery Artists, which is a worldwide directory of artists who have volunteered to fix, rework and finish pieces for victims of known abusers in the tattoo industry. Allowing survivors to feel empowered and hopefully to move on from negative experiences of getting tattooed. By known artists, they mean “Those who have either been convicted, admitted their actions publicly or who have been reported to us multiple times displaying this pattern of behaviour,” Dolly explains. You can email tattoometoorecoveryartists@gmail.com, and your message will be treated in the strictest of confidence, any details you give will not be shared anywhere. Dolly has told us that they are very busy, and may not be able to reply instantly, please be patient and they will reply as soon as they can.

@tsass_uk

Lucy has also set up Tattooists Sexual Assault Survivor Support (@tsass_uk) on Instagram to address sexist attitudes in the industry, help victims, spread awareness and dispel misconceptions about sexual abuse.

A GoFundMe page has been set up too,  funds will go towards the artists who are reworking tattoos, and invested into education materials and furthering the movement to permanently change the industry.  All remaining funds will be split between three charities: Women’s Aid, Safeline and Survivors Network.

Although there is power in speaking up, we urge you not to name and shame online. Instead get in touch with us and we will help.

There was also an Insta thread that started to circulate, people posting that they felt safe while getting tattooed by [insert tattoo artist here]. This can have a triggering effect because not everyone has the same experience with the same artist, so we don’t suggest joining in. Sometimes it takes victims so long to realise what’s happened to them because it’s at odds with what they believe about that person.

There has been reports about this movement in The Metro, and Eastern Daily Press, which states that Norwich based tattooists Brad Ward and Andrew Balls announced on their Instagram accounts that they were leaving the industry and apologised for their behaviour.

For additional support follow @tsass_uk or visit rapecrisis.org.uk. Contact police on 101 to report any sexual offences.