Korea is a conservative country, especially where tattoos are concerned. As an English teacher, it is expected that I cover my arms and keep these artistic forms of expression a secret from students and staff. Though fortunately, because my school is located far from the societal demands of the city, I am able to roll up my sleeves and expose these personal portraits of my life.

And they are personal. Every single one of my tattoos paints a story. Some of which are short and sweet, like the bunny on my side, while others are long and tangled in meaning, like the gangster teddy bear on my wrist. But all are equally significant.

Including my most recent.

Taken from a Japanese Anime called “K Project,” the sword alongside the quote serves to represent self-sacrifice, as well as the strength in our relationships to each other. It also reminds me of a high school friend. Mostly though, it acts as a ‘note to self’ reminding me that when people kill themselves, regardless of the reason, if it is egoistic or altruistic, their pain is ultimately passed on to those they leave behind.

Considerably deep, for a glorified cartoon.

But that is just one answer to one question, and tattoos are rarely so simple.

See, because of Korea’s conservative society, tattoo artists have been forced to the no-name streets of the big cities, their studios hidden in building basements, behind unmarked doors in places that don’t show on conventional maps. Whereas in Western society, studios are broadcasted, their names plastered on brick walls in unmissable font.

In other words, my first thought when I arrived at the address for the studio was “this can’t be the place,” a fourth floor apartment with a purple painted door and a rack of slippers. I would not have been surprised to see a woman, wrapped in a bathrobe, walk out. But instead, I found a young man passed out drunk on a couch. It was 11 a.m on a Sunday in Hongdae, one of Korea’s most notorious drinking districts, so I was not entirely shocked by this, though I certainly hadn’t planned on being some stranger’s alarm clock.

Yet, despite initial appearances, he proved to be exceptionally meticulous in his work. Take the stencil for example, he carefully drew guidelines to ensure that it was correctly placed. Though he did almost position the tattoo opposite the direction I had specified, which, to be fair, is often considered backwards. Cannot blame him for that. Besides, the stencil is just an outline; the canvas on which the true masterpiece is crafted from needle and ink.

That is where the title of artist is earned.

Now obviously I have been tattooed before, but the majority of my tattoos have either been too simple or too specific a design to allow for much creative interpretation. Whereas this time I went in knowing that my original idea would be altered in the style of the artist, and in fact chose him based on his unique perspective. But that being said, I had no way of knowing how that style would be injected into the design of the tattoo. All I knew was that the initial design he showed me would come to only vaguely resemble the final product.

A bit of a risk, to put it mildly.

But as I said before, he proved to be a very meticulous artist, and at multiple points would stop his work to analyse the tattoo with a gaze so entirely focused that there could be a bomb exploding in the background and he wouldn’t blink. It was an experience in and of itself just to watch him work, to see how he scanned the tattoo, weighing its balance to decide where and how to draw his lines. As a client, it made me trust him. As a person, it made me respect him.

He is an artist.

And I am happy to have been tattooed by him.

As a fun little aside though, I didn’t choose this artist based purely on his style, but rather on previous clients, most notably Ash Island, who, as it turns out, had been the reason I found him passed out drunk.

Kind of cool, right?