How has your tattoo style evolved?
My style has changed so much, and I feel like that’s important for any artist. At home, I started with black and grey linework. During my apprenticeship, I went into micro realism and realism. I had an extreme love for it.
Before tattooing, I drew portraits with coloured crayons and pastels. My foundation was realism: learning shadows, shading, highlights and contrast. There are still things I learned from realism that I apply to my tattoos now.
When COVID hit, I wanted to get into peonies and Korean traditional art. What got me started was the tiger. I was curious why the Korean tiger looked so goofy, and I went down a rabbit hole of folklore and painting. I practised painting, and coming out of COVID, that developed into my tattooing: peonies, flowers, the whole shebang.
Then I went into Japanese and Chinese influences, and I lost my identity a little. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I was trying so hard to create my own identity, but the more you do that, the less it happens.
Going into ceramics made me explore more East Asian paintings and grew my interest in texture and composition.
Some artists love doing one particular thing, and that’s great. But starting out, I think you should learn colour, traditional, black and grey, realism, fine line, whatever you can get your hands on. You’re learning different styles that can become part of what you want to do. I think you can get so focused on establishing a particular style that it becomes difficult to move.
What brought you to tattooing in the first place?
I grew up in Toronto, then moved up to Vaughan. When I got into tattooing, I came back down to Toronto. Drawing and art had always been a thing for me, but I didn’t know if I wanted to become a tattoo artist.
Coming from a Filipino background, no one in my family knew anything about art, which is fair. Becoming an artist was never part of our plan. There was that whole “starving artist” thing. I thought about illustration, but it wasn’t supported, so I went into nursing.
I dropped out and went into medical administration. I was working in clinics and felt sad and miserable. I respect anyone in that industry, but knowing I had such a strong passion for art, it wasn’t meant for me.
When I moved back to Toronto, one of my roommates wanted tattoos but didn’t want to pay for them. We did a little trade: he would buy my equipment, and I would play around and tattoo him. I didn’t realize that would be the start of my tattooing journey, but it grew my love for it.
I tattooed in my apartment for about a year before going into a shop. I wanted a proper apprenticeship because I wanted to learn colour and expand into styles I probably wouldn’t have thought to try. I really enjoyed my apprenticeship.
Shadowing helped a lot. We could choose an artist and ask, “I’d like to learn this specific thing from you. Is it okay if I watch?” Just watching how different people tattoo was so helpful. We also worked on flash and practised on fake skin, then tattooed ourselves, friends and family.
I was trying so hard to create my own identity, but the more you do that, the less it happens
You make large black and grey pieces as well as colour work. What draws you to each?
There’s a funny story. I was on the subway, and I only had three of these peonies on my arm. A guy across the TTC shouted, “Yo, I love your peonies. Those are peonies, right?” I was like, “Yeah, they’re flowers. Thank you so much.”
I loved the way that made me feel, and I wanted my clients to feel that way too. It pushed me to do more colour work and come up with different compositions. I loved that someone could see it from a distance, that the colour made it noticeable.
But I have a love for both colour and black and grey. I see beauty in both. It depends on the subject and what the person already has.
If someone has all colour and suddenly there’s a dark black and grey piece, my eye goes towards that. If everything is black and grey and there’s one bright coloured piece in a random placement, my eye goes there. I think about composition and what looks good on that person. I don’t think I could choose one over the other.
I don’t think there should be this whole black and grey versus colour thing about which is better. It depends on the person getting it. If you like colour, get colour. If you like black and grey, get black and grey.
What keeps drawing you back to blue?
This sounds a little woo-woo, but there’s a connection I get when I see blue. There’s something very rich about it, almost a spiritual connection you can have with a colour. It makes me feel calm.
When I was learning more about spirituality and meditation, one of the colours that came up was royal blue, this deep, deep blue, and the idea of being connected to yourself. There’s a calmness I associate with that.
With ceramics, I was drawn to blue-and-white porcelain. I loved that it was shared across different places and cultures. I thought that was beautiful, and I translated the style I was working with onto ceramics.
That went into indigo dyeing as well, which is a more recent thing I’ve been doing. I just wanted to explore the colour blue.
What are you exploring in your tattooing at the moment?
I’ve been trying to focus more on flash because I did so many customs that I started questioning, “What do I even like to do?” But I love custom work too. I’m very transparent with my clients. If I want to try something new, I’ll say, “Hear me out. Would you be down to do this?” It’s made me very experimental.
There’s a risk in that too, because you’re trying something on the spot. With flash, you can plan it out and think, “Okay, I want to try this style.”
Recently, I’ve been exploring compositions of vases with flowers, especially in blue. I like flower arrangements where different varieties of flowers and plants are very specifically arranged together, and they just make sense.
With my linework, I’ve been getting into mag dragging. I love the texture of how it heals. It looks very human, very brush strokey. That comes from experimenting with different styles and seeing what you can take from each one.
What do you notice when you see your older tattoos on clients?
Sometimes I’m like, “Damn, why did I do it that way?” It’s very much on the technical side. I look at how I did something and try to work out what I was doing.
Recently, I saw one of my clients who was the second person to get a peony sleeve from me. At the time, I was experimenting with solid colours and shading. It looks so fucking good, and I was like, “What did I do? Why is it still so solid and vibrant? I should have written it down.”
There are other tattoos where I’ve wanted to do something over them. But it’s cool to see that work because it reminds me of my mindset at the time.
Tattooing feels like second nature now. In the beginning, I was so focused on every line. I’d be shaking, in my own head, thinking, “Don’t fuck it up.” Now, with the experience I have, I can think, “I’m going to do this line,” and just draw it. It’s very cool to see my old work over the years.
When clients have been getting tattooed by me for a while, it’s interesting to see the different phases of my work on them. It’s like they’re growing with me, and that’s a special connection.
Your tattoo should complement the body, regardless of body type, skin type or skin colour. That’s part of your job as an artist
What have ceramics and textiles taught you about designing tattoos for the body?
At some point, I felt like I’d hit a plateau. I didn’t want to solely be a tattoo artist, but I was struggling with my identity and which route to go. When I went into ceramics, I was like, “You know what? No, it’s everything. It is all of me.”
With ceramics, you’re throwing a vase, and you have to learn how you’re going to complement that vessel. That changed my way of thinking when I tattoo. I also went into a different shop where they were all about trying to complement the body, and that changed my perspective as well. Your tattoo should complement the body, regardless of body type, skin type or skin colour. That’s part of your job as an artist.
Ceramics and then going into textiles brought together this passion for composition and colour. It’s a whole cycle of different mediums helping each other out and changing my perspective on tattooing.
Even with textiles, it has to do with how something looks on you. I started looking at kimonos, and especially at the drawings on them. I’d see the way a phoenix was drawn and think, “That looks like a back piece right there.” That’s what it would look like on a person’s body. It’s kind of cool to see those connections.
What do you enjoy about making ceramics that people use every day?
I started with teaware, and I still make it. The teacups are meant to be cuddled when you have tea, so they’re warm in your hands. I really like making something that brings someone comfort and nostalgia.
When I draw on them, it’s usually whatever comes to mind. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of tigers and blues. Most of the ceramic pieces I’ve made have been blue and white.
When I was writing an artist statement, I was thinking about how I draw on a vessel or a vase. How do I complement it and make it feel like it has a home, even without its surroundings?
I think about that with tattooing too: how do I make someone’s body feel homey? How do I help them feel more themselves? Whatever style or tattoo I’m doing, I hope my clients feel that way.
Every time I create, I feel very much like my childhood self. The more I embrace that side, the more ideas come without trying to restrict them so much
What do other mediums give you that you can bring back to tattooing?
Tattooing is a little different because it’s permanent. That’s why I like exploring other mediums as well: they’re a little more forgiving. I want to be playful with whatever I’m working with. Every time I explore another medium, it brings me back to how I’d like something to look on a person’s body, how it flows and how it looks from a distance.
During the pandemic, I wanted to continue studying watercolour, but paper wasn’t affordable for me at the time, so I found ways to make my own. At one point, I made a rug. I was like, “Why not? Let’s make a rug.” I also went into bookbinding because I loved the way Japanese notebooks looked, bound on one side. I’m very spontaneous with whatever medium I can get my hands on.
Every time I create, I feel very much like my childhood self. The more I embrace that side, the more ideas come without trying to restrict them so much.
When I create, I’ll put cartoons on in the background. They remind me of how colourful everything was when I was a kid. You don’t care about anything; you just want to do what you want to do. I want to embrace that whenever I’m making anything.
The more in tune I am with that, the more freely I can express myself, without all the doubt: “Is anyone going to buy it? Is anyone going to like it?” It pushes that unnecessary turmoil away.
We’re emotionally attached to how we create. Sometimes it’s about taking out pain; sometimes it’s embracing happiness or sadness. You want to create to feel that freedom, whatever you’re feeling. I think being able to express that visually is beautiful.
Has getting tattooed changed how you feel in your own body?
I was insecure about my back. I had back acne, and once I got my back tattoo, my confidence went through the roof. I felt like I could just walk around without thinking about it.
When I got my back tattoo, it wasn’t just because I’d seen a flash design. I saw a tattoo on another artist, what she was wearing and how her tiger looked on her. I was like, “Oh my God. I want to be that.”
I love how tattoos can complement your body and make you feel confident in what you want to wear or how you want to present yourself. That’s something I really love about tattoo culture. At least, that’s how I feel towards my own tattoos.
Tattooing is also a relationship between you and your client. Whether it’s flash or custom, it’s a collaboration between two people, creating something that could be meaningful or aesthetically pleasing. You’re growing with your tattoos and living with them. For me, it’s about permanence, milestones and memories. Giving yourself a sense of home.
There’s this idea that tattoos look dirty, but why do we think that way when we have such a rich history of tattooing? Why are we shaming that side of ourselves?
How does your Filipino background shape what tattoos mean to you?
I feel connected with my own roots through my tattoos, regardless of the style I have. My tattoos are a different style from the Filipino tattooing I’ve been reading about, but learning how tattoos are understood has made me think about that connection.
There’s this idea that tattoos look dirty, but why do we think that way when we have such a rich history of tattooing? Why are we shaming that side of ourselves? I think a lot of Filipinos want to connect with their roots and don’t want that history to be erased.
A tattoo tells a story about a point in your life. It’s not only about which artist did it, but when you got it. There are reasons people get things covered up or blasted over: they’ve outgrown something, or they no longer want to think about that time.
It’s beautiful that we collect these milestones permanently on our bodies, and we go through pain to do it. That’s another thing I love about tattoos. I think learning about our own history is something we should celebrate.
It’s beautiful that we collect these milestones permanently on our bodies, and we go through pain to do it
What do you take away from tattooing in other places?
When you go somewhere new, it can be tricky because you’re building an audience, just like when you’re new to tattooing. Sometimes you have that thought: “Hopefully I break even.”
But I’m also there for the experience. If I didn’t make that much money, at least I went, learned something and made friends. That’s something I can take home with me.
When I was guesting in Copenhagen, it was hard to get clients. I managed to book one person and tattooed some of my friends. I didn’t break even, but the experience was much richer and more valuable to me than making money out there.
How do you keep that curiosity going without burning out?
I think it’s important to have another outlet. It can be painting. If your mind is always thinking about tattoos, you can reach a stagnant point. Doing something else relaxes my brain a little and lets me be in the flow of being an artist.
Burnout is terrible. You’re tattooing constantly, talking to clients constantly, getting overstimulated until you feel like this blob. It’s important to book in a way that leaves time for yourself. I know that isn’t an option in every situation, but having a day or two to unwind matters.
On my days off, though, I’m either in the pottery studio or at home painting. Sometimes I don’t give myself that time either, because I want to do so many things.
There’s this feeling that if you’re not creating or working, you don’t have a purpose. But that’s not true. Whether you’re working or not, you’re still an artist at the end of the day.
How would you like your tattooing and wider practice to keep developing?
I don’t want to be known only as a tattoo artist. I want to be an artist who expresses themselves through different mediums. Even on Instagram, I try to show tattoos, ceramics, paintings, other things I like to do and travel. I want to express myself freely in whatever form I can.
Jess Chen is such an inspiration to me. Looking at her earlier work and what she does now, she never really settled for one style. She’ll have it for a little phase, and then she moves on. I really like seeing artists do that.
Creatively, I’m satisfied. I’m not where I want to be, but I know where I want to be.