You just recently moved to Pittsburgh, from Richmond, where were you before that? As the narrator of your life would say, “I bet you’re wondering…how did I get here?”

I was living in Buffalo, New York before I moved to Richmond. That’s where I started tattooing. Prior to living in Richmond I never really stayed anywhere for more than a couple years at a time. Richmond served as a nice home base for traveling and I just sort of ended up here for almost six years despite not planning that and always thinking I was about to leave. It’s weird—I’ve lived in Richmond longer than anywhere else, but never settled in in any context. I never was very social here, I never became very attached to the house I’ve occupied longer than any other place in my life… I was just always expecting to be gone soon. I’m actually moving to Pittsburgh next week, and I’m excited about that. I don’t hate Richmond, but my time here has been a kind of peaceful purgatory and I’m excited to maybe feel like I’m home again.

It seems like every decade there’s a new generation of older guys claiming that tattooing is changing and us younger folks are ruining it. Do you think the dozen or so American tattooers said that same thing like a hundred years ago? (I can be totally off on that number btw)

As an apprentice I read a letter from Sailor Jerry, I can’t remember to who, complaining about new tattooers and their philosophies and methods. That was in the sixties. I think any subculture, trade, or “in-group” is always going to have people who view their own past experience through rose-tinted glasses. I remember when everyone started saying the same kind of stuff about punk when we hit our twenties—maybe they’re not taking into account that they’re generally more jaded now than they were as a teenager, and if the magic feels gone or things seem less cool it’s because everything is cooler when it’s an exciting new experience. These people are just looking outward for something to explain their waning passion, I think. I can relate to some of it, for sure—I often feel like our (American) world in general is a little more manufactured-feeling and less mysterious than when I was younger. I try to combat that by getting excited about change instead of developing an adversarial relationship with it. It’s definitely hard for somebody like me to do—I’m not a very “positive” person, and I’m hyper-critical of myself and everything around me, but it’s necessary to try and find the functional value of everything to stay sane.

What kind of weird things do you like to do in your free time? I feel like most tattooers are either frat bros or antiquers/collectors, which one are you?

Well I’m definitely a frat bro, first and foremost. I’ve never really had the conqueror’s spirit it takes for collecting—I like antiques and records and stuff but I also like giving away my favorite things, so I never accumulate much. The only things I have strong attachment to were given to me as gifts. Finding the things is more fun to me than owning them. As far as hobbies go, I’m a pretty outwardly boring person. I can entertain myself easily alone and the older I get the more I prefer being in my head. Other than painting and making meanspirited text art, I guess I read a lot, and write some, and I watch a lot of movies. I used to mail people shit all the time to give myself little projects to do—mix tapes, little zines and stories I made, things like that. I haven’t done that much in the last two years, maybe I should get back to it.

What’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen?

Man, I have a really high tolerance for bad movies. I love movies—I’m amazed at the sheer quantity of working parts they need to come together. Like, even the most corny and hamfisted Hollywood releases require so much diligent work on the part of so many people, so even if the script sucks or the director or actors suck they’re still such a wonderful achievement. To answer the question: for a while I’ve been hung up on this idea of a dichotomy between “filmmakers who respect the taste and intelligence of their audience” versus “filmmakers who don’t.” Basically every client I talk to about movies has to hear me talk about this. My two most recognizable Hollywood examples of this dichotomy are Chris Nolan and Darren Aronofsky. Nolan is by no means a favorite of mine, but he crafts movies that assume the best of his audience—their ability to follow a reasonably complex story, to appreciate nuance, to enjoy a beautiful shot without some wack slow pan that clobbers you over the head with it. And they’re popcorn movies, action movies, but they’re made with such good intent and love for the medium and its appreciators, and they’re so much better than most films in their genre. Then, you take somebody like Aronofsky, and he’s so dishonest and pretentious—his movies feel like an hour and a half of some drunk dork at a party talking down to you about their weak-ass, pedestrian take on religion or philosophy. The Wrestler was good. I know many people liked Mother! but I found it so insulting to its viewers. It simultaneously told the audience that they were too stupid to get its tired and obvious allegory, while demanding that they appreciate it. That’s what it felt like to me, anyway. And don’t get me started on Aronofsky’s goofy clever-camera bullshit. I’m not saying Mother! is the worst movie I’ve seen, but it’s the last one I remember that made me feel annoyed like that. The actual worst movie I’ve seen is probably one of the Lifetime movies I’ve watched in hotel rooms.

Do you think you’ll tattoo for the remainder of your days?

I love tattooing. I love so many of its facets—I could fill pages and pages alone just talking about how dear all of it is to me. Prior to tattooing I always worked several jobs at a time and I’m grateful for having one job that I enjoy and take pride in. That being said, I don’t know if I’ll tattoo forever. I love a lot of things. I wanted to be a writer when I was younger, I wanted to be a foley artist for movies, I wanted to be a psychiatrist. Lack of money got in the way of the myriad dreams or interests I had, but tattooing allowed me to dive deep into something I was interested in because I could also survive off of it. There are a lot of things I’d like to learn and dedicate myself to as much as I have to tattooing, but few of them would allow for that sort of divided attention. I do feel that the longer I tattoo the less likely I am to “do” anything else, but for the first time in my life I am doing something that would financially allow me to continue my education and maybe pursue something else. Professionally or not, I don’t know. I’d like to go back to school, but I can’t see myself doing anything else for work and consistently loving it the same way. So yeah, I’ll probably do this until I’m dead.