Down the rabbit hole...

Its been too long since Ive posted anything in here. I havent felt pushed to write in quite a while, so now Im gettin off my ass and putting that to rest.
Things in my life never seem to stay the same for long, and my job is one of those things. I had a good run at my last shop, but now Ive been given the opportunity to start something new, and until now, unheard of in the greater Ottawa region. Everyone knows that Ottawa has more tattoo shops than normal in a city this size, so to start a new shop from the ground up is to some, crazy. To me and the artists I work with it just makes sense. You go downtown and throw a stick, youre going to hit about 10 shops on Rideau st. alone. Tattooing downtown is a game, plain and simple. You throw your dice and see what you get. Its petty, sometimes dirty, and most of the time fast and overpriced. Not to talk shit about the guys working downtown, theres alot of great talent working downtown...that wished they didnt. So it just makes sense to change the rules of the game, move it out of downtown, and show clients, and artists alike, what a tattoo experience can, and SHOULD be like.
Enter The Gallery Custom Tattoo Studio.
Theres just four of us working there, and thats all there will be. Owned by Richard Morrissette and Mitch Mccallum, I and the insanely talented Calah Write have plans to change how tattooing is viewed here in the Ottawa  area. When you walk in, you WILL be greeted by the amazing Nikki Nelsen, who keeps everything running, and everyone happy. The shop is comfortable, not too big, and not too loud. Everything is very modern, high end, and clean.
The shop name pretty much says it all. Its a place for art. Both tattooed and fine art alike. There is no flash. There is no crowds of teenagers gawking while you get your work done. There is only private rooms, top of the line beds for the clients, and an atmosphere of creativity. You will get what you pay for...period.

The fact is, most people new to the scene are intimidated by the traditional tattoo shop. They cant help it, its usually full of intimidating people. To be part of something different, something new and so far unseen in Ottawa is very exciting. Its not everyday something like this comes along, let alone at a ground floor level.

It was a bit scary at first. To move from a secure job, a known entity that could support my family. As i said at the beginning, I had a great run at my last shop...great place to be and great people to work for. So, as exciting as it IS to be part of something new like this...its taken alot of faith from me and my wife. Faith that we will be ok during this start up period.  Its not going to happen overnight. But I have faith.

I cant wait to share this place with you all. I really cant! Photos will be coming shortly and I will be updating this blog weekly from now on.
So, come down and check it out! You wont be sorry!
http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100002361500296

Take a look...

How many of us take the time to look in the mirror, and really see whos there. I know I dont. Or at least I havent yet made a habit of it. Through no work of my own, and the courage of someone I hold very dear, Ive been given the courage to do so. If youre reading this, than youve most likely read my wifes blog(http://angieholladay.blogspot.com/) If not then go read it. In her words, she describes the hardships of her past, her struggles with addictions, and the feelings of each situation...and lays it all out for us to bare witness to. I know I havent had the courage to do this kind of thing...its another re-affirmation to me, of how God works in our lives, and helps to tear down walls, and rebuild our hearts. The honor I feel to be married to such a woman, its hard to describe, I thank God everyday for my family.
The bond of marriage is taken for granted in today's society...it goes beyond the oaths, beyond the security and tax breaks. You have to die to self..put this woman before you. Think of her always. Become the man of God that she needs you to be. When you fail to do this, become lazy and lose focus on whats important, it will ALWAYS bite you in the ass. It has for me. I have not held up my end of the bargain on many occasions, and yet, she always lifts me back up...forgives me, and puts my guilt to rest.
And so I look in the mirror.
There are times when I can see myself clearly, and man up to my mistakes and shortcomings. But if Im really honest with myself, most of the time I cant look myself in the eye. Its not that I think Im a horrible person or anything like that..but to truly change, as a person, as a man, as a husband...that takes work. Work. Real work. No more words, no more intentions. But work. And more often than not, the person looking back at me in the mirror isnt up for that.
So, reading my wifes latest blog...wow. If she can do it...after everything shes been through and more than overcome...well...f*ck it...so can I.
My life hasnt been hard. It hasnt been tested. It hasnt been much...till now.
I have everything to live for, every reason to work for and succeed.
All of this soul searching aside....my reason for writing this blog is to honor my wife, plain and simple.
So, this is my letter to you baby.

Dear Angie.
From the minute I saw you, I knew Id found her, the one.
As we got to know each other, it became clear that my life would be changed forever, and it has, for the better for sure. Our son is a constant reminder of our love, and our blood together. All too often in your life, youve been overlooked and discounted. Called a liar, criminal, and other things I wont repeat here. Youve been restless your whole life, knowing that theres more, that there had to be a reason...for all of it.
So, I lift you up, I thank God for you, and I give you all the validation you deserve, and I honor your sacrifices. Your life, your words, have touched people, made a difference, and will continue to do so. You are beautiful in every way, and you have given me the courage I need to become the man I need to be, for myself, for you, and for our son.

I love you baby.
Always have.
Always will.

Love,
Me.

"Just one little line, and we'll go from there..."

I think I say that particular phrase at least 50+ times a month, on a daily basis. This phrase usually is said right before that first touch of the needle to skin, before that first shock, sting and slight burning sensation. Right before their first, or 50th tattoo has begun to take form, to take on its life in their skin.
Tattoos, whether its one little word on the wrist, or an entire bodysuit, have a life in the skin of the wearer. Usually they mean something to that person, or, like, me..don't mean much more than they look cool. I do have some that have some significant meaning to me, but only 2-3 out of the 20ish tattoos I currently wear really mean anything beyond their artistic value to me. Now, my bad choices aside, MOST tattoo collectors put alot of thought into their artwork, and they earn each and every one.
Just thinking of the small absurdity of the situation is just a little brain tickling. Just think of this: when you walk down the street, do you trust the people you walk by? Do you think,"Oh, that guy looks ok, Ill just hand him my keys for a minute to watch my car while I run in to do.."...whatever.
No.
You do not.
However, thats essentially what youre doing when you walk into a tattoo studio. Youre handing the keys of your earthly good looks to some dude (or dude-ette) in ink stained pants, probly with too much facial hair(or make-up), and many times, one helluvan attitude problem. You get shaved. You get manhandled. You get stripped down (sometimes) and overall publicly put on display for all to see. And THEN.
They hurt you.
BY CHOICE.
Yes.
Its not MY fault you wanted this done to you.
Ok, so its not that bad most of the time, and as a professional tattooer, I do my best to make people as comfortable and relaxed as possible. It is after all, a vulnerable situation for many people.
And yet, they put their, sometimes, blind trust in me, or whoever is doing their tattoo for them. Mind blowing when you think about it in todays society.
Why cant, or maybe I should say, why DONT people do that more often?
Is it because Kat Von D. put a pretty face to tattooing? Maybe. But the industry has always been that way. The TV shows have helped some people see my world in a different light, but ultimately its a scripted, partial glimpse into what this "tattoo thing" is all about.
Tattoos are the most primal form of art we have on this planet...in my opinion. Theyre one of the oldest recorded forms of art in history. Its a very visceral experience for many people, and it forces you to find that "happy place" in your mind...at least if youre sitting for longer than 2-3 hours. They hurt man. They really do. Not hurt like, getting slammed into the ground hurt, or kicked in the shin hurt...more like an insistent stinging burn that WONT stop..until I make it stop. They force you to endure more than you maybe thought you could...or even show you, youre tougher (or not as) than you THOUGHT you were. Its a victory of sorts. For you and me. You, as the wearer of a new tattoo, who sat through all the "almost done"s and wipe-downs and awkward positions and now can sigh in relief...and look in that mirror at your new skin.
And me, as the artist who put all of his concentration and creativity into your....3 word phrase on your too skinny wrist, or that little star you just HAD to have....behind your freakin ear. Thats a victory..
Tattooing is surely the working mans art form. The canvas is ever changing, and is never consistent. The tools must be kept in tune and in perfect working order. The workspace must be absolutely clean and sterile. The safety of the client and artist are at all times in consideration. Not even dentists have as high standards as tattoo shops. Think about that for a second. Many surgeons would kill for our hands.
Now...Im not trying to say all this to rant about the poor little tattoo artists...oh woe is me...blah blah blah..
Far from it. This is an amazing profession, one that I have have extreme respect for, and feel VERY blessed to be part of. One that fulfills me in ways that I hadnt realized I was missing before I began on this journey. And one that has let me meet some amazing people, and hear some amazing stories, and share in peoples pain,their loved ones, their lives, that in so many ways, have been written on their skin in one way or another. And being the person, blessed and honored to share in that with them has taught me alot about my own life, and what to cherish.
Tattoos arent meant to be, and shouldnt be without respect.
And thats what Ive learned the most from all the pain and trust in this crazy tattoo world....a respect for life. A respect for people. A respect for choices that I may not agree with.
So, you may, or may not agree with tattoos or people who get them,
but everyone deserves respect...

Even us hairy, ink stained freaks. ;)

The Lake

For those of you who read my wifes blog,(http://fortheroadlesstraveled.blogspot.com/) youll know that my grandma Dinna was just laid to rest. She was, to say the least, an amazing woman. Both her and my grandfather Art Madsen, were some of the first pioneers in the Quetico region of Ontario. Thats a rather large area just north of Minnesota, filled with literally hundreds of lakes and islands. My grandfather was one of the original park rangers in that area, back when that didnt just mean someone you bought your fishing license from. They had "beats" they patrolled by dogsled, snowshoe, canoe and on foot. Both my grandparents built airplanes in WWII, the big bombers, they hunted, trapped, fished, survived and thrived in the wilderness. My grandpa built his first permanent cabin on Red Pine Island, on Big Saganaga Lake. It almost straddles the Canada/US border. You could throw a rock from the shore and hit the US. (some of you might want to do that, I dunno).
My grandmother married Art in 1946 and they started a family out in the Canadian wilderness. Most people now-days wouldnt, or couldnt even fathom doing such a thing. How could they survive without hospitals, TV, cellphones and starbucks? HOW!? Survive they did, though not without tragedy. My mother was the second oldest of 6 kids, Chris, Sandy (mom) Helen-Sue (the snowshoe baby, my grandmother hiked over the frozen lake the winter she was born to meet my grandfather during a snowstorm to get to the hospital...what?? yes.) Dave, Judy and Chucky. Chucky drowned when he was almost 3..something I remember my grandfather ALWAYS telling us about when we didnt wear our life jackets around camp. Life there was hard...but good. My grandparents built many more cabins together and started Camp Sagonto together, one of the first fishing resorts in that area. I spent many of my summers there growing up, always loving my time there. Being able to swim and run around in the woods as a child is something I will never forget. Theres something to be said about that kind of lifestyle. Living off the land out of necessity. People who look down on hunters and hunting have no idea what that is like, having to feed your family off whatever you can get sometimes...bears, deer, moose, beaver..whatever it takes.
My grandfather died on July 26, 2000. He was 8 days away from turning 96. Almost right up to his death, he was still cutting wood, repairing roofs, running his trap line and fishing. He would walk everyday for exercise, and I remember, everytime we would visit he would always check our arms and make us flex to see how much theyd grown. My grandfather was a man of extreme honor, moral character and honesty. He was always trying to teach us kids stuff, and most of the time I didnt care to listen or wasnt interested. When he died I battled with much remorse on that fact. But looking back on his life now that Im older, I can learn from it and I can only hope Im even half the man my grandfather was. His grave isnt even marked, but for some reason that seems fitting to me. He was a legend in his own right, but never looked for recognition. Just the right thing.
I hadnt seen my grandmother since my grandpas funeral. Either thru circumstance or excuse I wasnt able to go visit her. Not that living in Alaska during that time made it all that easy...but it was still doable. My grandmother was equaly as strong in character as my grandfather. Her twinkling eyes and laugh warmed your heart like nothing else, and her STRONG, bear-like hug made you forget you just did something stupid. She was almost larger than life even tho she was maybe 5 foot nothing. Her stories could fill volumes of books, and probly sell very very well.
Having not seen my grandma in so long, let alone most of my family, really made me remember where I came from. Its sad that things that were such a huge part of your life in the past, so easily fade into the background after, really, some very short years. Yes theres alot in my life that has changed since then, but really, it wasnt that long of a time.
Standing by my grandmothers grave on friday, the cold wind blowing and looking around at the tearful faces, made me come back to that place.
The lake.
It will forever be part of my families legacy, and I hope one day I can bring my children there.

I love you grandma and grandpa...and I cant wait to see you again.

Are you ready? Here we go..

This is the second time I've written this blog. The first time..I was writing as someone who thought they knew me..but just kept it safe. That was my "old man" talking. He likes to think he's still in control sometimes..but when I wake up at 5am and realize I was mislead..that makes me angry. I made a promise to God and my wife that I wouldn't live my life in those old clothes anymore. That's a place of laziness and complacentcy..just doing enough to get by and squeak through without causing ripples and not being put on the spot. I've lived most of my life in fear. Fear of being not good enough. Fear of rejection. Fear of looking like an idiot. Fear of stepping out of my comfort zone.
The last 2-3 months have really shown me that I don't have the choice of fear anymore..that to live that way is cheating my family, God and myself out who I'm sposed to be. No one should live in fear. No one should feel like they don't have anything to offer because of the lies they hear in this world. That's the thing right? We get comfortable in our fears..we get comfortable with just enough...I'm really, REALLY tired of it. Tired of not knowing what say even though I know better.
I haven't been the man of God that I should be..and that's ok...but from here on out, living in willful ignorance and fear just isn't an option anymore. My wife and son deserve more than that.. And God..my creator and my friend..he definitly deserves that from me.

So..am I ready? Here we go..