Last week, my buddy who's a tattoo artist from California started my day. "Dude, I am so overbooked with work I can't get caught up. Everyone heard I'm moving back home and they want their art before I leave. I'm booked solid, can you help me out by doing some artwork. I mean I'll pay you and stuff." Let me get my art pad. We roll to the hood of his Vietnamese homies in his white Caddy with classic rock blasting. I felt like I was starting a GTA mission.
We stepped out at the flashing arrow in the driveway. Cris speaks: See this dude? It was under like 18 feet of water. There's where the levee broke." The neighborhood was scattered brick homes separated by empty slabs of concrete. "I guess that's where the wooden homes were."
Our hosts were super cool. Polite and gracious hosts. I did three sketches, two were used. The one client wanted a more serpent looking cobra snake. My style didn't jive. I always respected the art. I never got to deep into it. Tattoo artists are a cliche all of their own. I never claimed to be one. Back at the cab stand in Jersey the guys used to tell me I should do flash art. I never got around to it.
Bamboo was requested around a already drawn Tiger, my exact design was used. Incredible to see one's artwork on human canvas. More flattering than to have a yuppie buy it off a gallery wall. The second was panther and a cobra. The client didn't like the style of my work. He politely and with respect declined, I was equally gracious. The third design was revamped but mostly intact when the tattoo artist inked it on a few days later. A coi fish. I read up on the meaning of Coi in mythology and tattoos. I have explore this art more.
Many hours and a few long breaks later, we were treated to bar b Que. An entire meal of meat around a large tile table reading "WHO DAT" in a mosaic. The center of the table had a small grill burning for those who wanted it well done.