Working in Permanent Ink

What drives local tattoo artists

There are a lot of feelings to feel when you sit down to make lines that will (probably) stay on a person’s body until they die.

Even veteran tattoo artists have a bit of nerves as the needle goes in, they say, as that ink is pretty unforgiving. And there’s a colossal sense of responsibility when someone trusts you to make permanent marks on their arms, legs, or (gasp!) face.

But with that responsibility comes a tremendous sense of honor that someone would choose you to do it in the first place, artists say, and a deep feeling of pride that comes with sending a unique piece of portable art out into the world for all to see.

“I don’t work a day in my life,” says Malia Wright, an artist at Cherry Capital Ink on Traverse City’s east side. “There’s obviously certain styles and stuff that I don’t really enjoy doing. But making art every day—I don't think you can ask for anything better.”

Northern Express checked in with a few tattoo artists to learn about the joys and challenges inherent in this increasingly popular business.

Hard Work and Hustle

Charlie “Baby Handz” Comber, who owns a studio called Pinups & Needles in Traverse City, has been tattooing for almost 20 years and takes his job very seriously. From quick pieces (“There was a girl who wanted me to tattoo a freckle that she had lost; It took longer to do paperwork”) to multi-day endeavors, he leans into both the technical and holistic aspects of his work.

“If someone wants a deity or something like that, for example, I’m going to watch all kinds of documentaries on it. I want to understand it,” he says. “I want to know why they’re wearing what they’re wearing, what their elements are, things like that.”

Technology has come a long way in the past 15-20 years. Artists can now use Photoshop or other software programs (a popular one is Procreate) to create and perfect all sorts of designs, combined with specialized printers that make stencils for easy application. But plenty still use freehand techniques, especially for less complicated work.

Make no mistake though—nothing is easy.

“A lot of people think [simpler tattoos] are easy to do, but they’re one of the harder things for a lot of people,” Comber says. “Those are meant to be done with single pass lines, and there’s more room for error. There’s no tapering of those lines.”

Comber is fortunate that he’s built up a solid reputation over many years. This means he’s booked out for months, something newer artists would—and are—bending over backward to work toward.

“It’s super hard to break through and get noticed in this business, because there are a lot of people doing it,” Wright says. “It’s like being a musician. You could be the best guitar player in the world, but if nobody notices you, it doesn’t matter. In this industry, it’s really, really hard to stand out.”

Most tattoo artists rent chairs or booths, similar to barbers and hair stylists. They get paid strictly based on the clients they work with, a situation that also leads to challenges.

“It can be very dissatisfying at times, because we don’t always stay booked, and if we are booked, we can’t guarantee that our appointments are going to show up,” Wright says. “In the last three weeks alone, I’ve had $2,500 worth of appointments, just no call, no show. When stuff like that falls through, we’re stuck figuring it out. We’ve got to hustle to figure out how we’re going to make up that money.”

Stigma, Inspiration, and Customization

Comber says that while tattoos “used to be associated with going to prison,” they’re now popping up on people of all walks of life, from “homeless people to politicians.” Wright agrees.

“Even in the past five years, so much has changed because it is becoming way more acceptable to have tattoos,” she says. “There are so many more people getting them, doctors, lawyers, judges, all those people that you wouldn’t [previously] consider.”

That said, tattoo proponents are “still fighting the stigma” associated with face or neck tattoos, Wright says, something she hopes changes in the future.

Some people who come in, Comber says, are simply tattoo junkies.

“Some people just love the feeling of tattoos. That’s it. And they want to have somebody to talk to for hours,” he says. “You are a therapist as a tattoo artist. It’s a thing.”

Regardless of who they are, those who come in for a tattoo may have a very specific idea in mind, or something more general that needs to be refined. The latter is much more fun, Comber says.

“I call it ‘crawling up into people’s heads,’ and I really enjoy it,” he says. “I like sitting down and talking about what it is they’re looking for, what styles they like, what it is they’re wanting to change on their body or cover.”

Comber has a few clients that place complete trust in him to do whatever he wants, something that still blows his mind each time.

“Some people have a few elements, and maybe they’ll tell me the style and the body part. But then they’re like, ‘I trust you. Just do it.’ Especially people I’ve tattooed for years,” he says. “It’s super cool, and there’s a little moment every time I hear something like that, where it’s like ‘Wow.’”

Most professional artists wince when clients come in with a printout of something they want replicated exactly (Wright’s apprentice Mack Barnhard derisively calls them “Pinterest tattoos”) and would much rather put their own twist on something, if not recreate it entirely.

“People will see something that they like on the internet and they’ll be like, ‘I want this.’ We try really hard to talk our clients into letting us do our own thing with them, redraw them, just make it more our style that we’re comfortable with doing,” Wright says. “I have more fun [putting my own spin on it], and nine times out of 10, if I’m more comfortable and having fun, I put out better work.”

Comber says the days of flash books with pre-drawn designs for clients to choose from are largely a thing of the past anyways—and it’s for the best.

“Now, it’s all about creating a custom piece that no one else is going to have,” he says.

The Art of the Coverup

Comber is a Flint native who wanted to go into plastic surgery, but his life took a drastic turn when he was in a very severe car crash that almost killed him. Needing to “feel something” again after extensive rehab, Comber tried tattooing himself and got hooked on the process. Two decades and thousands of tattoos later, he couldn’t love his job more.

Although he does all kinds of work, he’s especially proficient in coverups, in which he alters old tattoos or helps conceal the body’s various imperfections. In that way, his career ended up in a place that embraced the spirit of his earlier path.

“With plastic surgery, I would have done the vanity things to pay the bills, but that wasn’t the point of it. I didn’t want to get rich. I wanted to have a big pro bono unit for breast cancer survivors, burn victims, things like that,” he says. “There are so many people who can’t afford to fix something that has happened to them. So it’s cool that I get to work with those same people after getting into tattooing.”

On a monthly basis, Comber has people leaving his studio feeling much better than when they came in, and that’s something he feels very good about.

“I have a girl that’s got really bad varicose veins in her legs, and she would never wear shorts or a skirt or anything,” he says. “Now they’re covered and she loves them—she’s comfortable.”

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