Interview with Yi Shi

My name is Yi. Most people know me by my Instagram handle, postyism, because people remember artists by their Instagram handles these days.

The name came from a bad joke. In my first year of undergrad, I hated the institutional system of art history so much that I joked everything was Impressionism, Post-Impressionism, Modernism, Postmodernism.

I started apprenticing at a traditional street shop during undergrad, in the summer of 2015. I did about half a year of apprenticeship and then started tattooing. But I wouldn’t say I was properly trained at the time, because that shop valued how much money you could bring into the place, not necessarily the quality.

I wouldn’t say I was properly qualified as a tattooer until maybe around the pandemic, when I quit and switched to the collective I work with now.

I hate street shops that exploit artists. That’s my main take.

Over time, I realized that even when I want to create freely, I want a structure to create within. For some reason, I feel more free that way.

With tattooing, that structure can be the placement, subject matter, mood, or what kind of line quality the client is into. It gives me a bigger box to work inside. I don’t like calling people a canvas. People like to call themselves real estate or a canvas, but I hate it.

Later I realized this also extends to other art forms. I want a deadline. I want a budget, or even a mock budget. If it’s a sculptural thing, I want to know the size. I think it comes from the habit of working with clients and other people.

People would laugh if they saw my initial sketch compared with the actual tattoo. I freehand a lot of details and shadows, so that requires trust. Sometimes I show them a rough sketch and have to say, “Don’t worry. It will look a lot more like what you’re thinking once I tattoo it.”

With flash, especially when I’m drawing on the iPad, I feel like I have to make it look 100% like the final tattoo because people are seeing that image first. Drawing digitally is very different from tattooing, so there’s more pressure to perfect it.

Some old flash never got claimed, so I never did it. With custom work, if I draw it, it’s 99% going to become a tattoo. With flash, maybe 50% does. I have to draw extra, make sure it’s perfect and hope people like it. Over time I was like, maybe I’ll stick to custom.

Because I do so much custom work, I feel like I’m serving my clients more.

If I’m doing a piece in my style and the client wants to change it toward what they want, of course I’ll change it, as long as I still think it generally looks good. I’m not going to say, “I only tattoo this way, so you have to do it my way.”

It’s on their body, so I don’t think I should require them to go with my vision.

With calligraphy, sometimes somebody wants text in a language connected to their ancestors, but they don’t personally know the writing. Sometimes it’s a language I don’t know either, so I’ll go into the research and we’ll discuss it to avoid a typo or the wrong character.

For layout and composition, I can make strong suggestions. But if they still prefer their idea, I’ll go with it. I don’t think my eyes are the best eyes either. A lot of it is personal preference.

I don’t want them to feel the pressure of convincing me, because I have more power in this situation.

Usually I get an email about what the person wants and how sure they are about it. I look at the complexity. If they want several things combined, a sleeve, or a larger piece, I’ll suggest an online consultation.

During the consultation, I’ll draw a rough layout. Afterwards we go back and forth by email, sometimes with different rough sketches. Once we decide on the direction, I’ll make a finer sketch.

On the day, we still do tweaking and freehand whatever works best with the stencil. If it’s something simple, a consultation usually isn’t necessary. Then it’s just rough sketches and email back and forth.

If it’s someone’s first tattoo, or one of their first few, they’re usually more nervous. It requires more trust-building and talking before the appointment. Even during the appointment, I’ll do extra to make sure they’re comfortable.

A lot of people try to look like they’re not nervous. They think they’re hiding it, but I can tell. I’m like, “Aw, don’t worry, you’re fine.” It’s okay to show that you’re nervous.

All the time. At first it was hard to establish the boundary of how much we can take on, because most tattoo artists haven’t had psychotherapy or counselling training. We have to watch how much information we can handle, and whether something we say might trigger the person.

I think that gets easier over time. You learn how to let things go after the appointment. I used to hear some very heavy things, and the emotional whiplash could be intense.

But I’m glad people got to express their feelings. Some probably had no idea they were going to open up about their family history or the most traumatic things that happened to them. I hope they got some relief from talking about it through the physical pain and intensity of the tattoo session. And I hope people don’t feel guilty afterwards because they shared so much.

I looked into it a little during grad school because I was interested in somatic therapy and the experience of touch.

I think it’s the physical contact, the pain, and the act of being in a vulnerable position. You’re lying down, almost like somebody lying on a couch talking to a therapist. Everything together can make it easier for people to open up.

I also wonder if physical pain triggers an emotional response similar to intense emotions they’ve experienced before, so it becomes easier to remember certain things and talk about them. And sometimes people just want to distract themselves from the pain, so they speak a lot.

It’s strange when you meet somebody for the first time and they open up within an hour.

I think so, especially for people with body dysmorphia.

It’s like wearable art on the skin. If somebody doesn’t like a certain body part, having a tattoo there can give them more confidence about that specific part, and maybe change their overall body image too.

That’s what I hope, from personal experience and from my friends’ experiences. I hope that’s the experience for most people.

I started going into film about four years ago through a local film festival program, and I realized I really liked it. I do it on the side. It’s another artistic outlet.

Tattooing gives you instant gratification. You create something with a client and, on that day, the work is finished. Once you gift it to the world, it’s gone from you.

Film takes much longer and it’s usually a group project. One film can take a year, or five or six years, to finish. You need patience. Sometimes you start with a topic that feels right at the time, and by the time the film is done it isn’t right anymore. You have to be okay with that.

They’re very different mediums, and I like exploring different art forms because I get things from film that I can’t get from tattooing.

I go from hopeful, to very done with it, to hopeful, to very done with it, over and over again.

I really like having friends who support each other. When you have an emergency or an emotional breakdown, you realize everybody is ready to help you.

But I don’t really know how to navigate the word “community” anymore because the word itself gets commodified quite often these days. Sometimes people use it for their own benefit without actually building a community.

I would just call it a group of friends now. The people around me in Toronto who are creating art and genuinely care for each other are very important to me.

From my small point of view, there are definitely a lot more people coming into tattooing, and there are more options for clients and artists.

Back then, the main options were working at a shop and having 40 or 50% taken from you, or working out of your own living room. Now there’s more variety. You can co-own a studio, rent a seat, or work by yourself.

It’s more accessible, which I think is a good thing, as long as people follow bloodborne pathogen training and keep things clean and safe.

I was born in a country where tattooing has always been taboo, so to me, tattooing in the West has always been mainstream. I couldn’t tell if it’s changed that much from 10 years ago. The difference is more obvious in Asian countries.

If tattooing is more normalized, people hopefully feel less scared or stressed walking into a tattoo shop. It also becomes more normal to expose bad behaviour from people in the industry. I think that makes it safer.

I really hate the scarcity mindset. I know it’s hard not to buy into it because we grew up in this environment.

I don’t think competition is necessarily a bad thing. It can help us get better. It can make us provide better service, be more ethical and be friendlier.

The stress mostly comes from capitalism, because at the end of the day you need to make money. We get stressed when there is an economic downturn, or when we can’t cover our expenses.

But quality-wise, I still think it’s good that more people are making art and getting their art recognized. Tattoos are very personalized. If somebody out there comes to you because they like a certain style you do, that’s great. If they want to get something from another artist, that is pretty rad too.

The people here are the best. A few of us came from the same shop I used to work at. We came from that very toxic place, being the queer and trans ones.

It was very clear what we didn’t like and what kind of model we didn’t want to follow. Operationally, most of us are on the same page, and we trust each other.

Our schedules are spread out, so sadly we don’t see each other that often. But overall, it’s a really nice place to be.

When I was younger and constantly working nonstop, my shoulder took the brunt of it. I had a really bad shoulder and had to go to physio or massage therapy about once a month just to ease the pain.

I only got into working out last year, but I can already see the difference. I’m not a professional, but it’s helped with my posture and stretching out my body. It’s something I didn’t think about when I was younger, and I wish I had started earlier.

Try not to buy into the scarcity mindset. Make friends. Talk to people. A lot of great ideas come from hanging out with people, going for a walk and having conversations.

And don’t be scared to branch out into other mediums.