Today we’d like to introduce you to John Clarke.
Hi John, we appreciate you taking the time to share your story with us today. Where does your story begin?
I was in my early 20s and addictively hooked. The 1990s were an age of stability and upheaval, depending on one’s perspective. The tattoo industry was no different. Experiencing its artistic renaissance, the explosive mix of fine, street, and skin art unleashed a torrent of creativity into the industry.
I didn’t come from tattoos, but I certainly noticed them. According to my upbringing, tattoos belonged to the ‘lower class’: the bikers, the junkies, and the criminals. In the spirit of rebellion, my first attempt at college resulted in a new tattoo and academic expulsion. Then, contradicting that rebellious spirit, I joined the Marine Corps. Now tattoos were a rite of passage; I had the reason and the means to afford them. By 1996 I owned a tattoo kit and made money in the barracks. A couple of us headed to Orlando to start our tattoo careers, thinking of the fame and riches we were sure to make.
It didn’t quite go as planned. I scratched underground, working restaurant jobs until my first job at a studio. It was a 24-hour studio in Daytona, FLA, owned by a white supremacist/convicted murderer. That’s how badly I wanted in the industry; I was willing to put aside morals and ethics for a chance to be in it. The job lasted about 6 months, but it worked; I was a tattoo artist. My second studio was next to a fish and bait shop; damn, it smelled bad. An old-school female artist owned it. She did not fuck around. There have been almost 20 studios in my career. Long story slightly shorter, I’ve worked for award-winning artists that couldn’t pay their bills. I’ve worked for business people who didn’t have one single tattoo or piercing. No matter who, we could all agree: tattoos are a right of passage, a means of reclamation, a show of identity, a piece of belonging, a way to honor or memorialize, and sometimes even a laugh.
I put 75,000 miles on a Honda in one year, traveling from studio to studio, state to state, living free and being free. I’ve seen 47 states (I’m missing Minnesota, Idaho, and North Dakota) and tattooed in over half of them. It gave me freedom. Tattoos allowed me to raise an amazing daughter. It gave me the flexibility to get my master’s degree. Tattooing allowed me to own a houseboat on the Potomac in DC. It paid my bills and more.
The tattoo industry did not give me consistency, but that was never a priority. After Covid, as I passed through Greenville, SC, returning to Texas, I stopped to see a former high school girlfriend. We’ve been together ever since. I have a great job with Reckless Heart on Haywood. I have my health, family, friends, senses, and thoughts—no need to ask for more unless it’s more tacos.
Can you talk to us about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned? Looking back, would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
The social climate in America has been historically skeptical of tattoos. Often viewed with suspicion as junkies or criminals, people with tattoos weren’t quite as accepted as today. Often categorized within the carnival trade, it was part of the sideshow, bestowing another social stigma on body art. Even in recent years, tattoos have been restricted. For example, tattoos were illegal in New York City until 1997, Massachusetts til 2001, Oklahoma until 2006, and South Carolina until 2004. Tattooing the face, head, or neck is still illegal in South Carolina.
As for my obstacles, I won’t lie. My difficulties and challenges are just as much personally inflicted as outwardly presented. Tattoos were part of the package. I’ve seen disapproving looks, sometimes accompanied by rude statements or questions. After all, I did choose to look like this, but I’ve grown immune to it. In more important news, I was the cool dad at my kid’s school. Television, technology, the internet, and famous people with tattoos (musicians, sports, entertainment) have proven influential in the changing perception of the industry. It is a changing view that still meets resistance at times. Still, it’s better than it used to be, and it will change again because change is the only constant.
Can you tell our readers more about what you do and what you think sets you apart from others?
I’m a 50-year-old kindergartner. I follow the lines, color inside them, and play nice with others. I prefer larger color pieces, usually American traditional or Japanese. I like to see the tattoo from 20 feet away and know what it is. Bold, simplistic, color-saturated, stylized. I have a secret soft spot for black-and-gray landscape realism. Being able to make it look like an Ansel Adams photo is something I’ve always aimed for. I’m most proud of the fact that I survived. Looking back, there were several times I shouldn’t have. And not only have I survived, but I’ve also succeeded. I managed to raise a kick-ass kid. I’ve made thousands of people happy by giving them what they wanted, a tattoo to remember.
What do you think about happiness?
Tacos. Tacos make me happy. It’s the little things. I’ve learned (often the hard way) that bad shit will happen. There will be stress, frustration, helplessness, sadness, pain, and even money involved. Nothing teaches you a lesson like spending big money on a stupid idea. Every day there is something worthwhile: a friendly smile, a stunning sunset, a row of green traffic lights, a safe return, a hug, a meal, a cool car, bright flowers, and a helping hand. It doesn’t have to be big. Little moments grow.
Pricing:
- Consultation-free
- Appointments-$80 deposit
- Session work-$180/hr
Contact Info:
- Website: Www.tattooedsails.com
- Instagram: @tattooedsails
- Facebook: @Tattooedsails
- Linkedin: John Clarke
Image Credits
John Clarke, Amelia Clarke, Sara Davis
