.:: Berita 2 ::.

TATTOO : The agony and the ecstasy

by. XAZMIN GARZA 'Herald Reporter'

Twenty-year-old Anthony Thurston removes his shirt and seats himself in a

chair resembling that in a dentist’s office. He lights a Marlboro Red and takes a long,

deep drag. His brow beneath the rim of his cap furrows and he bites his lower lip.

“I’m not nervous, I’m excited,” says Thurston, who has thrice before experienced

the agony and ecstasy of getting a tattoo. His fourth is a tribal armband which will

encircle the entire diameter of his upper arm.

His tattoo artist, owner of Body Art Design Tattooz Chris Richins,

explains Thurston’s bravado. “That is one of the most painful areas

that and the lower spine. Once you get to the inside of the arm, it gets pretty bad.”

Richins has been a tattoo artist for 20 years. He gave himself his first tattoo at age nine:

a dot on his knuckle. He’s since had so many he’s lost count. Richins caught what he

refers to as “tattoo fever” at an early age. After getting your first tattoo,

which many who are familiar with the industry also refer to as “ink” or plain “art,”

a sort of addiction is likely to incur. Richins attributes this to both the mentalities

tattoos inspire and the physical benefits they can produce. “Artwork releases enzymes

that help people relax, kind of like acupuncture,” says Richins. “A lot of the addiction is

between endorphins and an attitude. They get a tattoo and they feel brand new.”

One of Richins’ best clients, who also happens to be his business partner,

is 31-year-old Sam Trimble. Trimble has both arms, feet and calves covered

along with his chest and back. He also has two on his neck and one on each hand.

Richins is responsible for all but one of them. Trimble’s decorative skin has drawn

mixed reactions. “People either think you’re a drugger or just think you don’t belong in

society at all,” says the self-acclaimed tattoo addict. “Some people judge, but then there

are those who will come up to me and say, ‘Hey, I’d never do it, but that looks pretty cool.

’” With each tattoo Trimble received, he yearned for another one. It was a cycle that

seemed to perpetuate itself. He refers to it, however, as simply “balancing things out.”

“When you look in the mirror and one arm is covered and the other isn’t,

you just feel like it has to be done,” he says.

Richins used to provide his tattoo services to Trimble out of his home.

When he found himself out of work and out of luck, he and Trimble came up with

the idea of transforming Richins’ hobby into a career. “He’s just a really good artist,

probably one of the top ten out there,” Trimble says of his business partner.

“He’s done a lot of intricate freehand on me, and his work is so clean. I’ve been in

some shops where it was really bad. Most places use the same needle and just re-clean them.”

Above all else, cleanliness is Richins’ top priority. Among the large array of possible

tattoo designs that nearly wallpaper his parlor are several signs boasting his dedication to

sanitation. “You can’t put a price tag on someone’s safety,” says Richins, who only uses

disposable needles despite the increase in difficulty level they pose. “A metal needle gives

the artist a steady balance. The plastic makes it uneven, but it’s just a matter of holding it

more steady,” he says while demonstrating the act. When performing a tattoo, he’ll change

latex gloves close to a half a dozen times to ensure his clients of their safety in his establishment,

which has been in business in Evanston for four years.

In addition to ensuring clients of their safety, part of Richins’ responsibility as a tattoo artist

is also advising them, or, if necessary, redirecting their desires. “The one thing I try and

caution people on is names,” Richins says with a grim expression. Thirty percent of the

Tattooz owner’s work is cover-ups, which always consist of a client’s ex-lover’s name. In fact,

when asked to do a name, Richins approaches the art with a cover-up in mind. He is sure not

to make it too large or elaborate so the client can smoothly transform a regret into a repair.

“I always tell them a picture is worth a thousand words, but a word is just a word.”

Thurston has been sitting in the tattoo chair, which by now resembles an execution

by electrocution chair, for about one hour. After noticing his chest has broken out in red blotches,

he and Richins decide it best to take a break. Five minutes pass and the two take their

positions again. The needle approaches his inner arm and the young client squirms a little

and clenches his free fist. When asked if he regrets his decision, Thurston lets out a grunt that

sounds somewhat like a “no.” Finally, after even onlookers are feeling his pain,

Richins announces it’s done. Thurston looks down at his upper arm, which is now a canvas of art,

and smiles. Richins offers him one last look before he cleans and bandages it.

Thurston gives the artist a final nod of approval and the project is complete.

“That’s the best part of the job,” says Richins. “Anyone can make a tattoo,

but it takes an artist to create a piece of artwork.”

Upon entering Tattooz, clients are greeted first by blaring heavy metal music, then by Richins himself,

who despite his rough exterior — long, straggly hair, tattoo-sleeved arms and

nicotine-drenched smell — is just an ordinary family man. Above his sanitation sink is a

four-picture frame of his three sons and daughter. Just beneath it, his youngest son’s school

project is posted. In bold black ink it reads: What I’d like to be. At age nine, Richins’ son wrote

crookedly in crayon: A tattoo person.

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