Ned Kilgannon
After your first few tattoos, they become invisible to you. You can only see the skin. Dazzlingly empty. Unspoiled. Prime real estate. If you lack self-control in the same way I do, that skin needs to be filled, pronto as Tonto can say “velocity”.
It’s a conundrum one must approach head-on, which is why I recently spent six out of the seven days in Istanbul, prone on massage tables. Three studios. Three different, magnificent artists. Approximately 48 hours of podcasts. Several supine fugue states and a tidal kind of torture. The pain of the needle announcing itself in waves.
But we’re not here to talk about the agony-purgatory of being the canvas for a torso tattoo. We’re here to discuss the sensational value of those days in Istanbul.
The Financial Benefit Of Going Abroad To Get Inked
The total cost of the tattoos was approximately £3000. I estimate that getting identical tattoos with an equivalent calibre of artists in London would’ve been around £9000. An alluring saving, to say the least. You can acquire flights, splash out on a decent hotel for the week and still in essence save £5000.
‘In essence’, of course, flashing across the sky in neon lights. I know I sound like your ex who ‘saved’ £50 on that coat that they never wore because it was reduced from £250 to £200 in a flash sale. And I agree that you’re better off without that low-life, but just as they were addicted to fast fashion, I am addicted to tattoos.
Given the inking would’ve occurred anyway, I stand by the claim that money has been saved.
It’s not the first time. I stumbled upon the trick accidentally while living in Rio De Janeiro in 2018. After messaging John Monteiro about his forthcoming guest spot in Sao Paulo, he told me his rate would be $200 per hour in Sao Paulo or $50 per hour in his hometown of Joao Pessoa, in the north of the country. With an eight-hour session planned, I got on a plane and saved some cash while seeing a part of Brazil I never intended to.
In an eerily similar scenario, I was living in Amsterdam in 2021 when Marko Kovacs was touring Europe. I reached out. His rate would be €200 per hour in Amsterdam or €50 per hour in his hometown of Budapest. With sixteen hours’ worth of tattoos planned, I got on a plane, visited an old friend in the city, and saved some cash in the process.
Leveraging these huge locational price discrepancies is one side of a coin called, a ‘dummy’s guide to tattoo economics’. The other? Value.
Where To Find Your Artist
Instagram is to the tattoo industry what Twitter is to the uninformed opinion industry: a giant Medieval catapult. And sure, this sudden accessibility has triggered an exponential rise in tattoo prices, but also an upswing in quality since more artists and graphic designers are attracted to the booming industry.
Your prerogative? Talent-spotting. You’re a scout. You’re Jon Hamm in that baseball film no one watched, or Adam Sandler in that basketball film everyone watched.
Forget the mononyms – Oscar! Balazs! – the magnitude of their rates reflects the magnitude of their talent. Artists with north of 100K followers? Exceedingly unlikely to provide any value. Borrow some inspiration, perhaps, but don’t bother reaching out just to baulk at their prices. You want to find the up-and-comers. The apprentices. Talent without the hype – the understated types. Your prize? Quality tattoos at a fraction of the price, possibly accompanied by a feeling of supreme smugness when that artist later gets snapped up by an elite shop or has their profile launched by a celebrity affiliation.
“There’s a pride in permanently wearing a collection of art you love.”
John Monteiro opened Hood 7 in Hamburg after a stint in Hamburg’s branch of Ink District. Big news. I’d hazard a guess that his daily rate has risen in conjunction with his follower count. And the same goes for Marko Kovacs following his moves to esteemed shops Pardon Paris in Munich and True Canvas in Vienna.
I’m lucky enough, also, to have acquired a few tattoos from the maestro NAL. I presume your rate goes up a little in the aftermath of tattooing Drake’s face.
You might doubt the application of this rise in value. It’s admittedly somewhat nebulous. I can’t speak for everyone, but I can’t imagine many tattoo collectors are scalping their skin to sell it, as good as the hieroglyphs on your bicep would look framed on the wall of a thrifty stranger’s living room.
Nonetheless, it’s nice to know you achieved your dermatological gallery at a reasonable price, and that you were discerning enough to own a Rembrandt before it was a Rembrandt. There’s pride in permanently wearing a collection of art you love – a reminder of your savvy.
Be Street-Smart
“in his mind, this had been an aftercare problem, not an art problem.”
I’ve practically thieved brilliant work, but I’d be lying if I said I haven’t naively paid way too much for average work – I fondly recall going through with an extortionately priced tattoo in London due to the artist’s reputation and an as-yet untrained eye. His first effort peeled and faded like a mediocre dream. His demeanour was surly and brusque during the re-touch. Clearly, in his mind, this had been an aftercare problem, not an art problem.
But I suspect I’m not the first to have that issue with him. It’s a moment that sculpted my street smarts: beware of artists who edit photographs with high contrasts for their Instagram uploads. Their work tends to irrevocably fade. Which, of course, is the last thing you need if you’re taking me up on these overseas tattoo odysseys.
“Not all tattoos heal equally, and retouches might be required.”
It’s something to keep in mind anyway. Not all tattoos heal equally, and retouches might be required – not ideal if you acquired a lovely geometric orca in Phnom Penh, only to find it peeling heavily, a week later, halfway through your flight home to Portugal. Shrewd artist selection, balanced with some geographical contingencies – the means to get back, in the unlikely event it’s required – is the cocktail in which ink tastes best.
Well, nearly. Free tastes best, and the best price tattoo is gratis! For those with fountain pen tastes on a biro budget, there is a litany of Instagram opportunities for those willing to play the ‘like, comment, share’ game. For those who shudder at the indignity, there’s still hope – a couple of years ago, I entered a rare competition that didn’t require you to like, share, comment, hand over your birth certificate and donate a litre of blood. I won, and after a pandemic-induced delay, we’re booked in for the end of December. Merry Christmas.
I’ve been home for a few weeks following the recent Istanbul trip. My chest is covered and so is my abdomen. From the naval down, and down both obliques, there is more skin. Untouched. From beyond, my legs back up, whiter than a Santorini snowman. They’re intrigued about when they’ll be invited for a taste of the action.
A few emails later, I’ve booked three additional days, with both new and familiar artists, around my imminent return to Istanbul. Happy New Year.
Istanbul Studios:
Artists:
Featured image courtesy of Tetiana Shadrina via Unsplash. Image license found here. No changes were made to this image.
