magnolias and method

 

Today, I spent the afternoon emblazoning this beauty on my forearm. Magnolias, chosen for my love of the trees around the corner near the Catholic school and their perennial longing for springtime that start with the tiniest buds in late February and bloom full in mid-late April. In full Taurus season, usually shortly before or around my birthday (unless it's an unusually warm spring, in which case they're earlier.). While I've been plotting possible lush peonies, my fave flower,  or maybe sprays of wildflowers, when I saw this design last fall, I knew instantly this would be the first. They also remind me of that famous photo of Millay, which satisfied my poet self immensely. I actually plan some more around it to build a half sleeve, or maybe on my shoulder or ankle. Blackberries, butterflies, maybe moths.

Loose plans for a botanical tattoo have been in the works for probably 4-5 years at this point, through various ideas about flower and placement and other mitigating facts like available funds and, you know, the pandemic. Through an entire summer of wearing temporary ones to get used to the idea of having one. Deciding whether I wanted color or no. Through low-grade fears about pain tolerance and sitting still for too long. I've been harboring a stash of cash since I left the library, scared to spend it in case I needed a back-up fund for lost income if I needed it. I had been stalking the artist on IG I wanted since last summer, but only this April decided to contact her, and only now, at the end of June, did her demanding schedule have an opening. My process was approached scientifically, almost methodically like a scientist trying out a new theory. 

I am thrilled with how it turned out, and am already thinking how to save up for more (it ended up being less than estimated, so I am already on my way.)  Her style is very delicate and vintage looking and the studio experience quiet and soothing (and for awhile at first, completely silent with no other customers.) I was apprehensive up until the first line, but after, not really anything I'd call actual pain beyond a little pinch as she did the inside part. Probably another situation where my anxiety made something big that was actually very small. I worried, in such a highly visible place, that it would look unfamiliar, or feel surprising and strange after having a blank canvas for so long. Maybe because of the practice temporaries, it looks and feels like it's totally been there forever.