This lil doozy comes from a friend and client who is into getting unique pieces. I had to put on my steady surgeons gloves for this because of how tiny all the details were. I enjoyed the challenge a lot. One thing about this piece for me, I have a tattoo machine that I specifically use for work that requires a single needle or a 3 needle linework. It’s a Bloodhound Irons liner. A beauty of a machine and it runs those small needles brilliantly. I would suggest to any new tattoo artist to really research your machines and find the ones that best suit your artistic style, hand speed, pressure and purpose that you need it for. Not all machines are built the same.
Anywho, the client wanted to chime in on this post and it was an absolute honor to have her write something to better explain the meaning of her piece.
“Now I teach history, but I was always digging about in my families backyard. Like a dog digging for a scent unnoticeable by human senses, getting yelled at to leave it alone, the grass had been resewed, the landscaping had it all looking just right. It all appeared the way they wanted it to, and there I sat, getting dirty, wasting the day away, digging at a scent.
Because our lives are a collection of historical forces and personal choices. My latest piece of inked body art reflects my own collection of atoms. My father is Jewish and my mother is French, and history has within it a windfall of possibilities as to why they perhaps could never have been. My art commemorates some forces that did allow it.
During the Nazi occupation of France during WWII, my grandfather was a mailman. Not a very glamorous job, not an elite position, no wall for his name to be carved into. But his moral compass directed him, he did not concede defeat. Rather he chose to aid the French Resistance – the underground force to counter the overwhelming might of the Nazis. Most of his actions remain particles of the past. And as he passed when I was six years old, my digging has met hard rock.
But imagine that my mother had been raised by a man who had bent to the will of those full of hate, or even had been ready to join them. Could my father, a Jewish man who had been raised with the haunting of Hitler chasing down his genetic line, loved such a woman? Would my own compass be so strongly charged North, towards social justice, not weighed down by history but rather liberated through it?
So my art is a postage stamp. A postage stamp in honor of the French Resistance. A piece that reminds me that I come from a family of fighters and that I have a legacy to carry on.”
Thank you Ms. Client/ Friend lol
This was created with a single needle liner, 5 curved magnum and intenze and silverback inks.