Tattoo You
courtesy The Wreck Shop/Josh Wilson
Aften Willcuts of The Wreck Shop tattoos Johnny Ruckus.
You see them on bodies throughout the valley and can get one in Glenwood Springs. Tattoos are everywhere.
Once reserved for military personnel, bikers and heavy metal rockers, tattoos have since migrated to delicate fashion models and onto your favorite movie star. Locally, you can see them on the arms of bartenders and cooks at D19, N9NE Steakhouse and Kenichi, on the backs of sunbathing beauties at the Sky Bar and ringing the biceps of area rock climbers. After years of negative perceptions, pop culture has embraced this ancient art form, which, given the permanence of its nature, is going to be around for some time.
Few things could speak to the popularity of tattooing in the Roaring Fork Valley more clearly than the fact that the small town of Glenwood Springs boasts four parlors. Business is good enough that the artists are friendly with each other and will refer customers back and forth.
The term “tattoo parlor” is probably invested with unfair connotations. No longer dingy and a great place to find a drunken sailor, the businesses that offer these services are brightly lit and welcoming with an attention to hygiene I’d love to see in my kitchen.
The artists themselves are people you wouldn’t have any problem bringing home to mother. The new breed of tattoo artist is a reflection of their clientele, and while they can be just a bit edgy, they’re definitely closer to surfer culture than Hell’s Angels. They come to their trade through a love of art, and if they weren’t tattooing they’d be doing something else in that area. They take great pride in their original designs. Matt E. Hayes of Spider Rose points to the “flash” (framed watercolor designs) covering the walls of his shop and says, “These are all original and can’t be found anywhere else. I try to make every one of my tattoos unique in at least some small way. No two are identical.”
This sentiment is echoed by all of the artists. They also welcome clients with their own designs and will work with customers to refine and articulate their ideas. A reverence for artists that came before is apparent. Legendary tattooist Sailor Jerry’s name comes up regularly, and a glimpse at a sheet of his flash makes one regret that such brilliance eluded the mainstream for so long.
As important as their artistic commitment is their ethical commitment. Glenwood’s tattooists insist on spending as much time as necessary educating a customer and making sure the result is completely satisfactory. Word of mouth is everything in tattooing, and no one wants a dissatisfied customer.
They will not do business with the impaired. It doesn’t take much imagination to visualize how unfun negotiating with a drunk intent on a tattoo must be. Josh Wilson of The Wreck Shop gestures at his pretty boss Aften Willcuts: “I let her deal with them; she’s good at it.”
Aften and Josh don’t do piercings. They say that men getting their nipples done can get “particularly painful and noisy,” a comment I’ve filed between “too much information” and “what the hell were you thinking?” Tawnya Guthrie at Mountain Ink does. She also does transdermal implants, tiny disks that are inserted under the skin with a small post protruding through. One can attach little jewels or whatever to the posts. While a technician like Tawnya can install the implants, they need to be removed surgically.
The resident tattoo artists at Mountain Ink are brothers Jason and Jared Wight, two of the most experienced in the valley. Jason, 34, started as a “scratcher” (someone with no storefront, usually working out of his home) when he was 15. After a few years, their mother bought the boys real tattooing equipment. Mom was clearly a smart cookie. Tattoo artists figure their time at about $100 an hour. I suspect the equipment was less than medical school tuition.
Shelly Fishbein, who, with son Scott and daughter-in-law Tereza, runs Hole in the Wall Tattoos and Piercing, LLC, is a product of the California tattoo scene. She has been tattooed by, and studied with, some of the great household names of the art. (Depending, of course, on the type of household you live in.) Fishbein started tattooing and piercing in 1995 and cut her teeth at motorcycle rallies such as Sturgis and trained with the likes of Lyle Tuttle and Chris Young. With a background as a painter and silkscreen artist, she also builds the equipment tattooists use. Shelly is the State Representative for the Alliance of Professional Tattooists and is deeply committed to that organization, which provides education to tattooists and lawmakers about the art of tattooing and its health and safety issues.
The tradition of street art becoming museum art is alive and well. New York tagger Jean-Michel Basquiat transitioned from graffiti to working on canvas and now, 20 years after his death, is internationally recognized as one of the most important artists of his generation. More recently, graffiti artist Shepard Fairley, who designed the Hope poster for the Obama campaign, was deeply concerned that his 12 arrests for tagging might cause embarrassment. The Obama people didn’t mind and Fairley is currently showing in museums.
If this trend continues, perhaps a customer of one of Glenwood’s tattoo artists will wake up one morning to find he is embodying this generation’s “Starry Night” or Moulin Rouge.
