The Friendliest Tattooer in the Land
My reputation as a tattoo artist mostly comes from my bedside manner. At least, it used to be that way.
When I was only three months into tattooing, I started seeing repeat clients. Not because I was talented (I wasn’t) or inexpensive (I was) but because people liked the way I made them feel during the tattoo. Clients liked the jokes and stories I’d tell, the way I complimented their ideas, my genuine interest and care, and how I’d respect them and their body. Those clients told their friends and families and more people came to me. And more. AND MORE. Most people told me some version of, “My friend recommended you because you’re so nice and they had such a good experience!”
I loved knowing that I was giving people something they hadn’t experience before. I often heard how terrible other artists could be: the bored, insensitive dismissal of the client’s idea, completely ignoring them while tattooing, yelling at them for basic body functions, and making them feel small or unimportant.
It’s not in my blood to be that way. Perhaps it’s neurodivergence or simply following the golden rule (treat others as you want to be treated) - but I knew, my tattoo experience was purposely different. I took respecting clients seriously.
Tattooing is sacred, you know? A client gives me the trust to permanently alter their skin. For the rest of their physical life, they remember how that experience felt - emotionally and physically. Every time they see their tattoo, they remember me, too. Even if they regret the tattoo later, they wouldn’t regret how I made them feel or the respect I showed them; that was my mantra. I wasn’t great at tattooing yet, but I absolutely could give the greatest bedside manner a client had seen in a tattoo shop.
As a people pleaser, I kept bending over backwards to accommodate clients and I justified it with their loyalty to me. Loyalty was rare, so I was honored to have it. I tattooed clients regardless of me even liking their ideas at all; I would rather make the client happy, even at the expense of my own creative ambitions.
A therapist can tell you how toxic that attitude is. Because what I really just said is that my clients’ wants and needs come before my own. This nonstop give everything attitude came at a cost.
Empty Cups Can’t Pour
I saw signs of burn out. Perpetual feelings of dread and anxiety, always exhausted but struggling to sleep, checking out of relationships, neglecting personal and home responsibilities, being sick nonstop, coping with food and social media. How was it possible to love my job and still be burning out? Would this career be like all the other ones I tried, which left me a husk of myself? I wouldn’t let it happen again.
I set boundaries. No more prioritizing client reschedules over my own family; I wanted to be home at night with my kid. I said no to projects from new clients that didn’t align with me creatively or politically. I booked less appointments a day so I could put more effort into drawings at night. I created policies that needed to be respected and clients were not allowed to steamroll me anymore.
In the wake of these boundaries, I had discovered something wonderful: real passion. I was working on more exciting projects, meeting many amazing people, and growing faster than ever before! I couldn’t get enough of tattooing. This wasn’t just another hyperfixation or temporary hobby - this would be my forever career. By prioritizing myself, the RIGHT clients stayed with me and incredible new ones found me. I had a very blissful growth phase in my career for a long while.
Ripping off the Bandage
Alas, I fear this growth phase has slowed. Lately, I feel like a lukewarm cup of coffee that’s been forgotten on the counter. I’m not totally drained yet, but certainly don’t feel piping hot and bursting with energy. Perhaps this is pre-pre-burnout?
Revisiting my journey to this point has made it clear that structure and boundaries are important for me. Without them, I inevitably fall into the old habit of people pleasing and shrinking myself. I am currently struggling to balance my personal desire for creative growth with client desires again.
I have a few, “no I don’t tattoo that,” rules, but I find myself bending them again. I’ve been saying yes to projects that aren’t replenishing me creatively, just because I like the client a lot. I’ve been staying past my self mandated 5 pm departure, because the client had to drive far. I’ve knocked off more than a fair share of hours on the tattoo price because they’re a repeat client. These things aren’t inherently bad to do occasionally, but overdoing them is hurting me. Unfortunately, I’m prone to all or nothing thinking.
They say you can’t grow in your comfort zone. I’m feeling a growth spurt coming on and I have to get out - for my own health. This is the moment I’ve been dreading for years: it’s time to inevitably hurt peoples’ feelings.
Perhaps some of you are way more emotionally resilient than me. I sometimes take rejection (or perceived rejection) pretty personally. If my regular tattoo artist suddenly stopped being able to fit me into their schedule, it would feel like a personal attack on me. Thoughts would spiral, “She hates me! My ideas are bad! I must have said something wrong last time; I should apologize!” And so, this is my worst nightmare: a client’s feelings are hurt and it’s my fault.
The real truth is that I have to prioritize me. And I have to limit how much I can put client wants and needs before mine. I’m figuring out what balance looks like.
And! I can use logic to soften the blow! Surely if I present the facts, people will understand where I’m coming from? (ominous internet laughter echos in the distance)
Why you didn’t get picked: I have physical limits
Here’s one big truth: I have POTS (postural orthodontic tachycardia syndrome) and haven’t been able to prioritize my own health in a way than manages this condition successfully. I briefly lose consciousness from standing up too quickly; usually this happens when waking after a long sleep. But it’s happening more frequently and with greater severity.
POTS is exacerbated by stress. Guess what is eating me alive? Ding, ding, ding: tattooing stuff I don’t enjoy at all, but I do it anyways because I like my clients. Next question, guess what helps alleviate POTS symptoms? Having a stronger body from exercise. But when am I going to do that, if I keep staying late to tattoo and missing my evening dance classes? POTS is much more complex than this, but you get the idea. My brain and body are struggling and I’m not doing them any favors by ignoring my needs.
I can only tattoo about 16-20 days per month and those days really shouldn’t be longer than 6 hours from start to finish for me. This means my time is very valuable. It also means I should spend most, if not all, of those days doing tattoos that I’m absolutely obsessed with.
I want to be bubbling up with excited anticipation before the appointment. I want my mind to explode with ideas of how to push the design to the next level. I want to feel like I am growing and learning with every minute I spend inking clients’ skin. I can only do this if I’m not burnt out.
The stakes are high. It’s career (and real) survival on the line. If I want to be physically capable of tattooing for years to come, I must prioritize myself. I have to accept projects that really align with me creatively, because my body and brain will burn out. My time is limited.
Why you didn’t get picked: Your idea is not on brand
Here’s another big truth: a lot of people could do a really good job on that tattoo for you; it doesn’t have to be me. If I am uniquely qualified for the specific thing you want tattooed, we are gonna find our way to each other!
If your request is just a design that I could do nicely, but it isn’t really my forte, I have to say no. To get better at the type of tattoos I am passionate about, I need to do them more often. If your tattoo idea isn’t really my passion, it’s a side quest that temporarily derails me from getting to where I want to be in my career. I don’t want to be the, “decent at everything tattooer;” I want to be the, “great at something tattooer."
Another aspect this point reveals is: I need you to choose me for my art and not just for my personality or familiarity. I’m not going to define my art, because we all have different understanding of tattoo terms. You might think you choose me for the art, but a few examples might illustrate this more clearly.
If your tattoo request is for a lady knight riding a dragon with glitter sparkles, I’d know you have done your research and that I am a very good fit for that project. If you request a stained glass style design with skulls and stars, you know I’d love that. If you request a creative portrait of your fave book character and their pet cat, I know you’re paying attention to my wishlist ideas. These are examples of choosing me for my art.
If your tattoo request is for a watercolor cross, or the Cubs logo and athlete portraits, or the Fibonacci sequence, or a sleeve of pine tree silhouettes, I would guess you either don’t know my work well, or I’m just the gal you always go to for tattoos. If that’s the case, I need to respectfully say no to your request. These are examples of choosing me for personality or familiarity.
Again, it’s not that I couldn’t do that watercolor cross tattoo well enough or that we wouldn't have a nice time at the appointment. But watercolor crosses don’t bring me joy - neither does sacred geometry, pine trees, or sports logos (I have a whole topic about this in my FAQ section). Frankly, you should get those tattoos from someone who is passionate about the style, subject matter, or enthusiastic to try!
It’s Not You, It’s Me
I’m sorry. Genuinely. I wish my body and brain could physically tattoo 24 hours a day, 7 days a week and have time for everyone who wants something from me. I wish I loved every style and subject matter with 100% passion and enthusiasm. I wish I could be your go-to girl forever, but it’s time for me to stretch my wings. Designs that do not fit the narrative of who April High is as an artist, or who she could grow to become (in my option, not yours), will gently take a back seat in the request folder for now. It’s the best solution for all of us.
Existing clients: I promise, with my whole entire heart, that I love and appreciate you as a person. I’ve genuinely loved getting to know about you and your life, spending hours tattooing you, laughing together, and giving you tattoos that you love. I appreciate that you have spent time and years investing in me and my business. Those experiences aren’t invalidated by me saying no to some of your future tattoo requests. There are no hard feelings and no personal failings on either of our parts. If your tattoo request is perfect for me, we’ll see each other again. If not, maybe I can recommend a better fit for you and I’ll see you around the shop? Maybe someday you’ll want the exact things I want to tattoo, or my style will change and I’ll be interested in your next project. Don’t be a stranger or make it weird; I still care about you!
Potential clients: I hope you can see how much I care about my clients, career, and art. I hope your expectation of me isn’t prematurely squashed because you read this blog and are turned off by my boundaries or emotions. Though, if that makes you disinterested in working with me, we probably wouldn’t be a good fit anyhow. I look forward to meeting those of you who truly are a good fit!
At the End of the Day
If you are prone to overthinking, and this blog feels personal, I promise it’s not. If you’re not sure if I would like to tattoo your idea or not, just submit an online request when the form is active and I’ll let you know if it’s a good fit or not. If my response puts you in a panic, read the blog again please and know it’s not a rejection of YOU.
Will I be remembered as a great tattooer or a nice one? Probably a nice one. But I really, truly, want to be great. I think being able to say no is another step in that direction.