Van Gogh the life
I never thought much about tattoos, at least not for myself. It’s a personal choice, so hey, do whatever man, who am I to judge. About the most I ever thought was that there was certainly some bitchin’ art to be seen out there in the tattoo world, so that’s cool.
For a slew of different reasons, that changed a bit. Recent personal experiences; periods of introspection; chance encounters; significant additions/subtractions to my sphere of influence… all of these contributing to a growing sense of missing or lacking (or repressed, more accurately) personal expression. There’s been a lot of stuff to put behind me, and this was a significant first step. The choice of imagery was not quite as important as the act itself, but it did need to be something that I wouldn’t ever get tired of looking at. That it exists (the tattoo) was to be my reminder, not what was chosen. I chose well I believe.