From Paper to Skin: Loving Art Enough to Walk Away
- Najja Elon
- 2 days ago
- 4 min read
My First Needle
I got my first tattoo machine at sixteen. At the time, I felt thrilling and intimate. I honestly can't even remember the first tattoo I ever did, but I always found it interesting that someone was trusting me with their body, their story, and their skin. For years, I tattooed high school classmates and mutual friends. But it generally stayed on the sidelines.
I drew. I painted. I lived. It wasn’t until I was twenty-six that I decided to take tattooing a little more seriously.
The Unofficial Apprenticeship
In 2022, I moved to Florida and I took on an, "apprenticeship" at a tattoo school in Tarpon Springs. A space that was and continues to be ethically and legally questionable (I won't explain that further). Fortunately, I was blessed to be in a small class of six of people that I still value to this day. Very genuine, down to earth and eager to learn. Just like me. So it made the time there easier. I studied at the academy for about two months where I aspired to work at a large tattoo chain in Orlando. I did research on their own, "apprenticeship" programs, as well as studio locations that were accessible at the time. As a direct person, I thought it would make the most sense to receive information about potential job listings from the source; their CEO. (Lets just call him, Mick).
Going Straight to the Source
I met with Mick on a Monday afternoon during my lunch break while I was still working as a Marketing Specialist. I carried with me a large portfolio of my work and a positive attitude. He wasn't too hard to find. It was promoted on their main website that he frequented his own tattoo school because that's where his office was. So I tried my luck and visited the school. I was met by a friendly assistant named Amanda who guided me to a waiting room where I waited on him. A few minutes later, I was guided to his office. Mick was an older, fluffier man with a pepper beard. He met me with friendly eyes and instructed me to sit. I told him that I just graduated from a different TS and that I wanted to receive his honest feedback about my motifs and that if he had any openings for work at his shops. His response was straightforward: he was surprised that my quality of work made it out of that school, but he was happy to help me find a job at one of his locations. At that time, I believe he had over +10 locations, but most of them were occupied. However, there was a newer one that had a vacancy in the Ivanhoe area of Orlando. I left his office feeling optimistic, took his number down, and left.
Tenacity over Timing
Days turned in to weeks, and weeks turning into a month. I called a few times and tried to followed up, but didn't hear much. so I decided to do what worked the first time; go and see him in person. I brought the same portfolio. and same attitude, and traveled to his office (again, on my lunch break). When I saw him, he seemed surprised. In summary, he was impressed of my tenacity of coming back to see him and that my approach to seeking work from him made him want to expedite my hiring process. A week later I was bringing my supplies into the Ivanhoe studio.
a series of fake skin and real skin tattoos that I presented for employment, 2022.
A Reality Check
The following two years of my career were intense. I worked in four different shops in Orlando from 2022-2024, trying to find a place where I could grow; not just as an artist, but as a person. I was hungry to learn, refine my skills, and potentially make this sustainable. I believed that if I worked hard enough, stayed humble, and showed respect, I’d earn the same in return. That belief, however, didn’t survive my reality of the industry. While there were highs in my career, I frequently encountered misogynoir, envy, racism, and a culture that normalized disrespect as tradition. It seemed as though if you didn’t fit the image, the temperament, or the hierarchy, you were expected to endure the crap that came with being at certain shops. There’s an unspoken expectation that artists (especially those already marginalized) should be grateful just to be allowed in the room, no matter the cost. I observed that talent sometimes seemed to be overshadowed by proximity to power, and respect is treated as something you earn by tolerating harm.
Regardless, tattooing was still meaningful to me. I loved the ritual of it. The focus. The way time narrowed down to needle, breath, and skin. I loved seeing someone recognize themselves more fully after a session, walking out a little taller than they walked in. That part was real, and I miss it.
Tattooing a great client, circa 2023.
Loving the Craft, Not the Cost
What I didn’t love was what I had to sacrifice to stay.
Eventually, I was having difficulties managing my income-to-expense ratios. Shop owners were paying me unfairly. The drama at work was impacting my quality of life. Lastly and my interpersonal relationships were being impacted the most. I was losing my confidence, and slowly my mind. I've have clients remark some days that I didn't look like I wanted to be at the shop. and for the most part, they were right. I started to desire the need to protect my peace, my dignity, and my sense of self. To me, that mattered more than sustaining a reputation in spaces that demanded emotional endurance as a baseline requirement. Leaving wasn’t dramatic; it was sudden because it had to be. Staying would have meant internalizing behavior I knew was wrong and calling it normal.
A series of my favorite tattoos done for free, 2023-2024.
A Chapter
I don’t see my time in tattooing as a failure, but simply a chapter. I treat my social media as an archive of my favorite moments. Tattooing taught me that passion doesn’t mean obligation, and that loving something doesn’t require you to accept disrespect to prove your worth.
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