As any apprentice would agree, breaking into the tattoo industry is difficult. It's not something you can go to school for, it is passed down from one generation to another. Tattooing practices are passed regardless of race, creed, color, or religion.
At A Glance Author Warlord Kitty Contact Warlord [email protected] When Ten years ago or more Artist Self Studio Roy Boys Location Scary Gary, Indiana
I was 19 years old, I had dropped out of high school on my way out of my small hometown in Indiana. I was sick of my parents, sick of my life and sick of the world. My friend Casey had a car, I had the money. Casey had family in Oxnard, California. That's where we were destined to end up.
We drove for what seemed like days, but finally arrived in Cali, Hollywood to be exact. That was interesting. It was 2 am and people were running, walking, vomiting, being handcuffed, walking on all 4's with a dog collar around their neck and being lead by a scary looking women with a leash down the street. Scary shit being 19. I took it more as an experience then fear, even though fear was the first response.
We made it to Casey's Aunt's house, in Oxnard, 4 hours later, we had gotten lost. They were nice people, but I believe they were shocked by my appearance. I was experimenting at the time with hair color, piercings and tattoo's, needles with string wrapped around them dipped in ink to be exact. We had something to eat and as I was sitting at the table I couldn't help notice the whispers and stares I was getting, it made me feel uncomfortable and angry. Casey walked up to me at the table and with no emotion told me I had to leave. They didn't care where I went or how I was going to get there, I was to different and had to leave. So I left, threw some choice fingers in the air and proceeded to find a nice warm spot to settle into, behind a dumpster for hours.
I finally decided I was going to do something, I couldn't live the rest of my life behind a dumpster, oh and by the way most kids in this situation would have been calling mom or dad collect to wire them money, I loathe my parents.
I ended up walking for hours until I came to the town of Ventura. I hung out for awhile on the streets, begging for money to get some food and thought about what the fuck I was going to do. A women walked up to me and gave me some change and told me maybe I should try going to the welfare department and I did, they gave me some bus tokens and a coupon for some free food at the local pantry. It helped, but not a whole lot. I stayed on the streets for awhile until I eventually got a job at a shit hole restaurant washing dishes. I saved up my money and got a place of my own, home shitty home, man this place was a rat infested crawling with roaches shit hole, but it was a roof over my head and a place to call home. In the process of all this I continued going to the food pantry and developed a great friendship with a man named Steve. He was a nice guy. He had 2 chow puppies in a wagon and everyday after we had gone to the pantry we would go to the beach and have a cold 2 day old chicken lunch and play with the puppies. I eventually asked him if he would like to come stay with me, since he was also on the streets and I knew how that felt. At first he said no, but I convinced him that friends help each other out, any way they can, and that I wanted to help him and his puppies, so he moved in with me, got a job and everything was going just fine in life. He stayed with me for months before I found out he was a tattoo artist from Texas, for 23 years.
He had landed a job and I was progressing to less sleazy restaurant work. It was a Friday and we had both been paid, he asked me to come with him somewhere. We hopped on the bus and ended up at a self storage place. I was kind of perplexed, wasn't sure why we were there, maybe he wanted to get some of his personal stuff out of storage now that he could pay the bill and needed my help to carry all of it back home. He came out with a hug box and I followed him to behind the storage place under a tree in the grass, he opened it and showed me what would be my life's work.
It was 2 of the most beautiful pieces of machinery known to man or woman, Tattoo Guns. He had everything, flash, gloves, needles, bars, everything, even ink, it was dried out but he said he could bring it back to life with some Listerine. We took all of these glorious treasures home with us that day and he spent the next year teaching me everything he knew.
The first job I ever worked at was Roy Boy's in wonderful Scary Gary Indiana. Man that place was frightening for a 20 year old single chick. They wanted me to sweep the floors, make coffee, feed the big cats and do some stuff I wasn't to thrilled to do. At first Roy Cooper was an asshole to me, real cocky and acted like he didn't want me there. Then after awhile, you could say he grew on me. I spent many a day cleaning the shop and drawing and eventually started tattooing REAL people instead of fruit!
I am now a Female Tattoo Artist with over 10 years experience. I have worked for many tattoo parlors from Indiana to Chicago to New York to Florida. Never in my life before that time did I ever love something with as much passion as I do Tattooing, Thank you Steve, wherever you are, from the deepest depths of my soul, thank you....................