I had wanted to get a tattoo for a long time. I had evaluated several designs, but was consistently unable to find one that I was confident would mean as much to me fifty years from now as it does today. Tastes and inspirations can be so fleeting, and I always lost my will among the uncertainty. It was not until I received the “Friend of Farm Animals” award that I knew that I had stumbled upon something worth permanently marking myself with. This would be a badge of honor that I knew I would never want to remove.
The only problem now was that I lack any artistic prowess. It wasn’t just a matter of not being able to draw what was in my head. I really couldn’t form a clear picture of what I wanted. My first idea was to have a tattoo of the Farm Sanctuary gates with my adopted animals in the fields. I wanted to have a quotation above that from Albert Schweitzer that read, “I am life that wills to live in the midst of life that wills to live.” I had tried to compose the image in Microsoft Power Point by pulling in pictures and trying to have some structure. I shared my idea with Lori, and I have to admit that I didn’t need the look on her face to tell me it looked pretty crappy. Even if it looked good, it would be huge and expensive. For someone who had never had even a small tattoo, it seemed like it would be a stretch to commit to what would have to be a full back piece.
Discouraged, I figured it wasn’t meant to be. As is the case with most inspiration, it comes when you are not expecting it. My tattoo idea was rejuvenated when I saw the Farm Sanctuary logo. There was an image that spoke volumes for me. In the silhouette of the cow and the chicken was engrained all that was special about the Farm. I played around with this image and found another idea in the mugs on my shelf in my home office. These were old squadron mugs that my dad had given me when I was very young. They had a similar round logo with rockers on the top and/or bottom with the squadron name. I hastily assembled these and had the Farm Sanctuary logo with a rocker above that said, “Friend of Farm Animals” and a rocker below that said, “Vegan for Life”. I opined that both sayings would work on multiple levels. As I looked at the colors, I decided that basic black might be better than the standard green. I thought that this may take on more of the attributes of solemnity, like the POW/MIA logo that I had seen all my life. After adjusting the colors, I had one more design touch that I wanted to add. Against the black silhouette, I decided to add, “Ahimsa” in Sanskrit. This word, meaning, “Do no harm”, fit with the goals that I have for my life. I had my design!
On Tuesday evening, I headed to the tattoo shop. I still felt like an imposter as I walked through the door, but I had no doubts that I would go through with it. By the end of the evening, I would be tattooed. I presented my design to the artist for preparation and he took it into the back while I sat out front. After a few minutes he came back out to ask me a few questions. Did I need to have all of the wording? I responded that I could do without the “Vegan for Life” part, but I needed the “Friend of Farm Animals” to remain. He asked if I really wanted it all on black. I told him that I was open to other ideas. With that information, he disappeared again.
After about what I was guessing was thirty minutes, he came back out and showed me his ideas. He had taken the basic stark design and added some flourishes. Rather than the cow and chicken being silhouetted against a black background, he had drawn them both in a quasi-realistic/cartoon scheme. At the top, he had included the “Ahimsa” section and at the bottom he had removed the rocker and added two banners emblazoned with, “Friend of Farm Animals”. Around the side, he had installed vines and tattoo style flowers. The piece would be done in heavy black with color highlights.
Now that looked like a tattoo! It was much more interpretive of my inputs, and while retaining the concept, had put it in a much more compelling image. It was not hard for to decide to go with his design rather than mine. It also made the decision of where to put the tattoo a lot easier. The bottom line is that my skinny arms just wouldn’t provide an adequate pallet for this. It would be like trying to write a book on a grain of rice. Science has proven it can be done, but once the novelty wears off, who would really want that? This tattoo was much better suited for my calf, and we headed for the back.
I lay down on the tattoo bed to have my leg shaved. That was a weird feeling, but not as bad as Lori makes it out to me. Once that prerequisite was done, I was asked to stand-up so that the stencil could be transferred to my leg. This has to be done standing up since the leg muscle shape varies from laying down to standing up and, since I would spend more time on my feet, he wanted to make sure it looked right. It took a couple of tries for the transfer to go right. The first time it had to be removed for some reason and apparently my skin liked the ink since it didn’t seem to want to let it wash away. After the second time, we were ready to go.
I lay back down on my stomach and waited while he mixed his inks and prepped everything. I glanced around the private room at the various other designs that he had. Most of these I would learn are what is called “Flash”. These are ready-made designs that people can select from when they enter the studio. They were very creative, but I couldn’t imagine getting a tattoo that someone else probably already has. This seemed to impinge on then personal mature of this ritual. On the wall in front of the bed were a couple of bookshelves stocked with “References”. These are images that the artist can use to augment designs. These ranged from military images, to animals, to occult symbols, and an interesting volume called, “Teen Aged Drug Fiends”.
All of this looking around was an intentional distraction. I was trying to take my mind off the situation unfolding behind me, out of sight. I didn’t want to wonder what it would feel like. My mind was understandably anxious, but I knew inside that I wouldn’t be able to prepare myself for something I had never felt before. Plus, the variability in tattoo locations and individual pain thresholds makes it impossible to describe what someone else will feel. The best guidance I received was that it would feel like burning in some places and like cutting in other places, and that it was imperative that I not move or flinch.
When the tattoo gun was turned on, I knew that my questions would soon be answered. When it first made contact with my skin, it definitely felt weird. I had braced myself for it, but as with any new sensation, the brain seems at once to be working to find a reference to ascribe to it. For the first stage which was outlining, the nearest point of reference seemed to be slicing. While I have never consciously been sliced open, the feeling that I had in my leg was what I would imagine this to feel like. It definitely hurt, but was bearable. For the most part that is. There were areas where the outline was heavy or where the skin was more sensitive, like close to the back of my knee, where the pain was really severe. During those periods, I tried to imagine something else.
The image that came to mind was vivisection. I thought of what I was feeling, and imagined that pain magnified when animals are dissected alive during lab testing and experimentation. I tried to envision how much worse that was as a reference point. Yes, this tattoo hurt, but I had opted to do this. I knew what was going on. I knew what the noises were. I knew that the pain would end. I knew that the person inflicting this upon me was not doing so maliciously and was taking care to minimize my discomfort and answer my questions. I knew that I could make the pain stop if I chose to. While one can never be sure, I was pretty darn certain that I would live through this. I had always found vivisection horrifying, but this experience made it all the more real.
The feeling of slicing was replaced with one of burning when the shading started. The black, heavy lined design looked really sharp, but I trusted his advice that colors would make it standout. His flash on the wall made it apparent that he was fond of and schooled in the “Classic American” style and I trusted that he knew what he was doing.
As the time went on, the discomfort alternated between more severe, less severe, and borderline pleasant. I am sure that this has to do with a combination of tattooing over already tattooed areas, endorphins kicking in, and other mental trickery. After two and a half hours, the tattoo was done. It was a little after nine at night, and I was definitely ready to call it a day.
As I stood up and took my first good look at it in the mirror, I was really happy with how it turned out. After checking, double-checking, and triple-checking, I convinced myself that the spelling was right. That had been my biggest worry as I lay on the table. Had I misspelled “Friend”? Had he? Would I have a tattoo that said, “Fried Farm Animals” or "Fiend of Farm Animals"? God, I hope not. The image in the mirror showed me that my fears had no basis and it was a huge relief.
After getting a nice wrap to protect it and getting briefed on the proper care requirements, I headed out into the night air. After a long night, I was not only a “Friend of Farm Animals”; I was a tattooed “Friend of Farm Animals”. I was marked in a way that I would always remember this cause for pride and commitment to find more and more ways to live up to that mantra.
