Line work, listening, and sex

This post has been written and re-written multiple times. It's been a shifting work in progress.

I've taken time to try to explain certain aspects of lining from my point of view. It was going to be a post I could look back on and use for information. A snapshot of sorts.

But things change.

Technique and motions are always developing and there is a consistency that strengthens with repetition, muscle memory, and a growing dexterity.

But things keep changing.

What seemed a normal pace (voltage wise) for almost two years suddenly didn't make sense anymore. My lines were more solid, but because I built them up accordingly. I never expect a single pass beauty every time, although some artists can nail it always. I simply wanted better quality. Well, two days ago I turned up my liner and the world was new.

My entire method of creating lines shifted because something clicked. The tiny dots of a soft hit, the blur of trailing ink, and the light vibration of stretched skin all spoke to me. It sounds silly, but I swear I just got it.

I continued to stretch and the vibration made more sense. It was a bit more solid. I knew (instantly) that the line would be solid two years from when it was created. All it took was shutting out what I knew to be comfortable. If we are working our selves, there's no reason we can't use those honed senses. As if listening to a familiar voice, there is an ebb and there is a flow to the relation of needle and skin.

Again. It sounds silly, but...

--

I remember, a year ago, Monte Agee talking with me about tattooing. His eyes lit up and he told me many things. But one quick comment stands out at this point.
He said, "David, shading, at times, is like sex."
I tilted my head back and laughed out loud. There was no way for me to understand, let alone fully understand. I just loved how it sounded.

--

But it makes sense to me now.

Every skin requires an altered relation. By listening to my senses, I can adjust in an instant. Maybe I'll turn up or down. I might need to rinse off plasma. A fade might require a quicker hand motion; or a stretch may require a different positioning.

Whatever the give, I'm learning to take. Then, when I find the motion of the skin, I've discovered what it takes... so I give in return. And so on.

--

All of which seems to form an even larger picture. I'm trying to dive into myself to be able to write this down, but when it happens - it just happens. There's no quick and obvious answer. Rather a road to be traveled; an experience to be had.