WHATEVER tattoo and piercing parlor is a no-frills store located in the sleazy heart of the West Village, specifically Sixth Avenue, between 3rd and 4th Streets. Despite the brand new IFC movie theater next door, it retains the flavor of an older, pre-Giuliani NYC: the block is littered with head shops, working class clothing and shoe stores, thick with sex stores, and endless bridge-and-tunnel knuckle-heads looking for trouble. On Friday, November 7th, I spent approximately six hours hanging out in WHATEVER with the tattoo artists and piercers, to get a feel for whatever might come their way...
5:27 pm
Night is coming, it’s very warm for November. The walls are covered in standard tattoo parlor fare: designs ranging from girly butterflies to sad-eyed Mexican maidens (“La Mamacita”); Jesus Christ as a heavy metal corpse; noble pit-bulls. My personal favorite design is an extremely buxom and topless naked girl with wings: ‘Thug’s Angel.’ True, son. Banger, the store manager, main piercer and a very cool girl, enthusiastically gushes, “Let’s get you tattooed tonight, that would give you something to write about!”
5:30
Chung, from Flatbush, with a mouth full of gold grillz, is one of the tattoo artists. He’s worked here for about 3 years and before that he worked next door, at the place one of the other artists refers to as the “Kmart of tattoo parlors”. He’s discussing our new president with a co-worker: “Obama’s just as much white as he is Afro-American…Obama-nation.”
5:32
I talk to Banger—“Like head banger!”—a native New Yorker; covered in intricate tattoos; on her neck; breast bone; arms. She’s dressed in a boy-beater, jeans, camouflage cap and a black hoody. Right now she’s organizing sterilized equipment for the night.
She’s been at WHATEVER Tattoo almost ten years, she started working at the shop as a counter girl, then they needed someone to replace a piercer who was leaving, and she was trained extremely quickly. She talks about problems in the industry, since nowadays “any idiot with a tattoo kit is opening a store”, and true artists are forced to lower their prices to survive. She predicts Friday night will be full of the usual weirdos and idiots: “That’s what you get when you’re so easily accessible, location-wise. Lots of weirdos, people just walk in here…don’t know what it is about this place; it just draws them in!”
5:38
Sign reading: “If you don’t tip, Bill Murray says you suck!”
Marty Wilson, another tattoo artist, wearing a camouflage Yankees cap, t-shirt & jeans, wallet on a chain comes in for his late night shift. He has a striking tattoo of a red devil’s face on the top of one hand, but far more arresting are the two silver beads implanted in his cheek bones. They accentuate his high cheekbones to a dramatic effect.
5:54
A family outside on the street stops to look in; dad carries a baby in the snuggly.
The kids ask, “Can we go in?” I ask Chung if kids are allowed in the shop. “Sure…sometimes. If they don’t annoy us.”
5:58
Banger expresses surprise at guy who comes in, “He used to be a pro-skater; used to be out here on the street, all f***ed up on H, would be out there selling his endorsement gear for whatever he could get. I didn’t know he was still around; thought he was either dead or in prison. Looks much better now. I didn’t think rehab was an option for him. “
6:00
Two NYU-type co-eds come in, one wants a small star on her the inside of her wrist.
Craig, another tattoo artist with his hair in a small ponytail, asks them, “What do you want to pay?
One says, “Fifty dollars.”
“The minimum is $60. Did they tell you $60 next door?” [There is an on-going rivalry with the tattoo parlor next door, which is able to undersell WHATEVER on price, given that their quality is also lower.]
The girl shrugs: “It’s just a small star.”
“This is something you’ll wear forever. You’d spend more than $50 on a pair of shoes that you’d eventually throw away.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t spend $50 for shoes.”
“Sixty is the minimum”
The girls leave.
6:21
Tawanna and her friend Latoya come in.
Tawanna has a rose on your top wrist—“sort of tribal”-- for her sister who went to Iraq and butterfly on her collar bone for “getting an “A” in philosophy.”
Did your sister come back okay?
“Oh yeah, and then she went back on another tour.”
The girls flip through the books, looking at various patterns.
Tawana: “Ooh, ‘Lick Me’…that’s so hood, you know? A hood chick would get that.”
Latoya says, “I want to get a photo of my son Jayden, cause he’s the main thing in my life.” She shows off a photo of a chubby, sleeping 8-month-old baby boy.
Is that your first tattoo?
Tawanna laughs and says, “Nah, it’s her third.”
Chung starts working on a sketch for them, and eventually the girls leave, promising the return. Later, we notice that the girls have defected next door.
6:34
Banger: “You can cheaper tattoos uptown or in Brooklyn, but the quality’s gonna go down.”
How do you become an artist? Do you have to apprentice yourself?
“Lot of people are self taught, they’ll just start teaching themself…some people will get tattoos from people they really admire just to see how they do it.”
6:54
Solana and Tess, students come in; Tess studies social work; Solana is in design. Tess is getting a four-leaf clover on the inner rim of her ear. “I’ve got a tattoo on my lower back and below my other ear.”
Solana is a beautiful Black girl with a voluminous weave and voluptuous figure: “I was thinking of getting either a light bulb or Africa. Something small.” Then, inspiration strikes: I’m gonna get a light bulb and color it red, black and green.”
Chung starts working on the drawing, which comes out great (a lightbulb throwing off rays) but the price--$160—makes Solana curse, and then immediately apologize.
She explains, “Its my birthday,” and starts counting out cash. She and Chung negotiate the price down to $140.
“Wait, I’m going to need metro cards.” Tess calmly says, “You have to prioritize.”
7:15
Petrilia, a sophomore studying biology at Medger Evers-CUNY, is getting a hoop put through her septum.
She says: “I made the dean’s list so this is my reward.”
As Banger gets ready to pierce her, Petrilia says to her reserved friend, “Yeah, I need your hand.”
The hoop is in, and her eyes water with the pain; she carefully dabs at her golden eye-shadow. She’s pleased with how the hoop looks, flashing a stunning smile and saying sweetly as she leaves, “Have a blessed day.” Cost: $45.
7:31
Chung gets his equipment ready for Solana’s light bulb tattoo.
Asked why she decided on a light bulb, she says, “Well, my name means sunshine, but I didn’t want to get a sun since everyone has one. Also, a light bulb always need changing and right now at this point in my life, I’m changing. My mom’s gonna be so angry at me: ‘Didn’t I tell you not to get any more crap?’ I’m grown!”
How old are you?
“Nineteen.”
The whine of the tattoo needle starts. Solana grimaces: “Damn that hurts a lot. I feel like I’m in labor. Hold my hand!”
Chung, chuckles “You aint got no kid.”
Tess says, “Are you okay?”
Solana, “No, bitch!”
Marty sleeps sweetly.
7:45pm
Two guys in their 20s come in.
“How much you charge per letter?”
Marty: “How many letters you got?”
“Um.”
“How big and how many and where you want them?”
The guys look through the letters for a while, and then one asks: “Y’all got Barack Obama decals? How much is that?”
The guys are interested in getting tattoos but worried about the pain.
Marty says, “It just feels like someone scratching your arm. You can take a pain pill. Take a Percoset.”
“I’m a gonna take a Vicadin. You here tomorrow night?”
Marty tells them his hours; the guys shake hands with Marty and leave.
Marty, yawning: “I don’t even know what they want.”
8:13pm: The guys come back with a decal of Obama’s “Change” symbol, wanting to know the price.
A guy comes in needing a job. Banger shrugs him off, “Yeah, so does everyone. Sorry, I cant’ do anything, we’re cutting people’s hours.” He leaves unsteadily.
8:15
Jose wearing a “President Obama” t-shirt comes in to get his left nipple pierced. Banger will do the piercing.
Asked why he decided to get it done tonight, Jose says, “We’ve been talking about it for a couple of weeks.“
His girlfriend, Paula, is having second thoughts about getting her own nipple pierced, seeing Jose’s almost involuntary reaction to the needle, “Babe you just scared the Bejesus out of me! I’m sorry!”
Jose: “It hurts for a second.”
“Babe, your second was longer than a normal second!”
When I mention to her that she does after all have tattoos, and a piercing is less painful, she turns a gimlet eye on me: “Do you have any?”
Paula finally says, “You should have gotten me drunk first, babe, I don’t know. Show me the clamp first.” The clamp is definitely scarier.
Jose says to Paula, “Honey, I’ll take you to Jekyl & Hyde and buy you all the drinks you want.”
When asked how it feels, he shrugs, “Its okay.”
Paula gets over her fear and goes downstairs to have her piercing down in private: “Wish me luck!”
[Later, Banger reports that she got both nipples done. On her way out the door, Paula indicates she’s on her way to get drunk.]
8:25
Tess is already done; her four-leaf clover wrapped in gauze. Solana, standing up once the tattoo is finished, is unsteady on her platforms, seemingly a bit woozy from all the work.
Tess: “We were gonna get dinner but…(shrugs) so we’ll head out to McDonalds.”
The shamrock cost $75.
Tess: “[Getting tattoos] was totally spur of the moment.”
Solana: “We were shopping and I said, I know what we’re gonna do.”
Tess and Chung discuss getting their nipples done.
Tess: I heard you were supposed to get done at the same time.
Solana: I never would get my nipple down.
Chung: I got both of them done at the same time. I got a bar[bell].
Tess and Solana leave; promise they’ll come back with a friend who wants clouds.
8:30
Another couple; both getting each other’s names. The cost, respectively: sixty and seventy dollars. He doesn’t have ID; shows off his facial hair & the tattoos he already has, asking, “The scruff ain’t enough?”
[Eventually, they will both get tattoos, and the girl will pay, despite saying, “Why am I always having to pay? I’m getting your name and I’m paying?!” After an estimated quiet yet intense 15 minute discussion, Marty asks Banger, “Have they paid up?” Slowly, her face sullen and silent, the girl gets to her feet and pays.]
Marty is meanwhile carefully sketching out the letters, as another tattoo artist from another parlor comes to visit.
Marty: What’s going on at your work?
Other artist with flattened Mohawk & piercings: “Aggravation. I’d like to pay some skinheads to go in and kick their ass.”
Chung, when pressed as to the worst tattoo he’s seen, says that the other day a girl asked Craig to put an entire Christmas postcard on her forearm. “I wanted to say something…a tattoo right there for a girl? But….” He shrugs, “If you and customer have a good understanding you can give them advice, but otherwise it can cause problems, people get confused.”
Marty, it turns out, is a suspension artist; the piercing in his cheekbones are actually metal implants in his cheekbones, through which wires can be put through.
“Little piece of metal with some holes in it; your skin grows through it. Got it done about two years ago.”
Marty says, “I go [to suspension events] just to get the crowd sick, that’s my whole point. Been doing it six years from November. Good times; something to look forward to on the weekend.”
He does suspension performances about three times a month; did a haunted house for Halloween.
Marty’s from Philly/East Camden, NJ, and has only been tattooing a year and a half, after a five and a half year apprenticeship. He started out painting toy soldiers and model for collectors, then moved into watercolors and graffiti.
Chung comes back with pizza; puts his feet up, eats.
Tino: “What’d that girl want on her arm, a storybook?”
Tattoo artist Keith AKA “Bang Bang: “Pretty much.”
Business-type man walks in, sees someone working on a laptop computer, and asks: “Um, excuse me, I see you using a laptop, may I use it?” We all stare silently at him for a moment, before Banger, with tremendous politeness considering, advises him to buy a beer at the Fat Black Pussycat bar and use their Interwebs. Once the guy leaves, one of the other artists says to no one in particular: “I see you’re wearing jeans, and I could really use a pair…” General discussion of the many idiots have taken over the Village.
Banger switches the music from hip-hop to Metallica. She’s pierced celebrities like Rihanna: “I don’t even think she knows what money is. Her manager just handles her card, just swipes it out.”
A girl comes in complaining of a painful tattoo—the “tramp stamp”—done by another parlor. Banger advises her to put ointment on it and then get a touch up since the black wasn’t done well. The girl says it was so painful, she never wants to touch it again. Banger elaborates: “Whoever did the black used the wrong sized needle and probably rushed it, since its all choppy. You can see the gaps in the skin.”
10:15
Banger says, “The economy has definitely affected us; it’s gotten slower. People are also haggling more; they’ll come in and ask what they can get for $30.00. And we’re like, dude! I’m against artists lowering their standards.”
10:40
The shop’s dead. Chung surfs the net. Bang Bang plays games on his iphone. Chung finds gold teeth ads on youtube. He’s excited for other people with gold grillz. Chung: “Look at that car; based on the car and the girl, that is definitely down South.” Suddenly, “F**k, I forgot we have a black president! Damn! How could I have forgotten that!”
10:45
Solana & Tess return; they’re bringing a friend to get tattooed. Solana strolls in, with her tattoo visible, the bandage put on it hours ago already removed: “Oh yeah, it’s been like two hours. My homegirl’s across the street; she’s gonna come by and talk about whatever she wants.”
Ashley, babyfaced, wearing a t-shirt that reads, “Hip-Hop Saved My Life,” walks in and says, “I’m scared.”
Solana: “Okay girl, go get those clouds.” Ashley and Chung go on line and start choosing cloud formations.
Ashley, showing Chung where she wants the tattoo: “I’ll take my bra off and go loose.” Giggles.
10:55
Staten Island-by-way-of-Chelsea type comes in requesting a barcode on the back of his neck, asks how much. Bang Bang, another tattoo artist, checks it out, “When you’re 60 years old the numbers won’t come out too clear.” The guy says, “When I’m 60 I won’t care.”
“Okay then.”
“Next door they said it’d cost 100 bucks.”
“Minimum here is sixty dollars.”
“Okay, I’ll get it.” His friend grimaces.
Banger on Bang Bang’s work: “This kid does outrageously good work, so to do something little like that…” Shrugs.
The kid touches the back of his neck: “Right here.”
Bang Band: “Center? High center? Fine.”
11:05
Ashley: “I’ve never been with a Libra but I know they’re really bad.”
Chung: “Damn, really, I thought they were nice.”
11:25
Chung sits surrounded by a bevy of adorable 19 year old girls: Solana, Tess and Ashley. I catch his eye and we both laugh. Chung says, “I’m not even thinking about the tattoo; I’ve forgotten what it was like to be 19!”
As I leave, I hear a tattoo artist from next door, showing off a new tattoo on his ankle to Banger say, “I did that last night while drunk. It came out alright.”
Endless thanks to Banger, Chung, Craig, Marty & Bang-Bang for letting me get in their way Friday night.
.jpg)
For more info: WHATEVER Tattoo is located on 6th Avenue, between W. 3-W. 4th Streets. Ph: 212-229-0687. Email:
WHATEVERTATTOO@gmail.com
1 comment
RSS
Email
Print
