When I was between the ages of 15 or 16 I had my first tattoo. The experience went like this: I walked into the shop, showed the man a picture of the symbol I wanted, pointed to my left hip and was asked to pull down my pants and sit facing backwards in a metal folding chair. Conversation was nonexistent between the tattooer and myself, and I’d be hard pressed to describe the interior of the tattoo shop or the experience in general except to say it was unpleasant; I remember the place was small and shadowy, the man was unfriendly (probably because of my age he just wanted me out of there before he got busted) and the fresh tattoo looked crude and then after it healed, it looked even worse. That tattoo has been covered over many times, and now I can barely see the faint raised outline of it underneath. Still, it was my first tattoo and I wore it proudly; it was my first (of many as it turns out) purposeful indelible mark.

Somehow, as distasteful as the experience was, I became hooked. My path to where I’ve ended up apprenticing at one of the best tattoo shops in Portland has been an interesting one, full of bizarre twists and quite a few bumps and detours along the way. The only way I can figure it is maybe, just maybe I paid off my karmic debt in the beginning and now I’m reaping the rewards of being persistent, in a way. I can say this: when I walked into Sanctuary for the first time, I knew the experience was going to be different and it was. From then on I suspected tattoos would become a much bigger part of my life, and I was right. Working at Sanctuary is awesome. Every day I feel lucky, proud, and humbled to be surrounded by these 4 masters of such an amazing and challenging craft.