Finding Your Purpose by Trusting God in Uncertain Seasons

This past weekend at the OC Tattoo Festival, I found myself in a different kind of position.
Not behind the machine. Not competing. Not chasing another trophy.

This time, I was judging.

Industry icons Fernie Andrade, and Mike Avena, and myself

After nearly four decades of tattooing—and even though I’ve judged at tattoo expos before—it still feels strange to not be right in the middle of the action, locked in, tattooing through the night and early morning. But stepping back gave me something I didn’t realize I’d been missing: perspective.

My whole life, always moving. I’m constantly being pulled in a million different directions. There are so many roles for me to fill as a father, a husband, an artist, a mentor, and an entrepreneur.

At expos like these, I’m usually working the booth, buried in a piece, running on no sleep, half-eating between sessions. But this weekend, I actually had time to talk to people. To represent Merger. To meet new artists. To hear their stories. To tell them pieces of mine.

It’s hard for people to approach you when you’re tattooing. There’s a barrier: the noise, the focus, the pressure. This time, I was present. I was in the heart of it all.

People came up to thank me, to share what my story meant to them. Some just wanted advice. Others just wanted to connect.

That meant more to me than any award ever could.
I couldn’t be more grateful.

On Judging, Integrity, and the Shift That Comes With Time

The older I get, the more I realize how different this part of my journey feels.
I’ve always been the one in the trenches, competing, tattooing through the night, building my name piece by piece. But these days, it’s not just about proving what I can do. It’s about how I can contribute.

Lately, between the expos and the podcasts I’ve done, I’ve been reflecting more on what this next chapter means. Talking about my story, the mistakes, the lessons, the growth, has helped me understand that sharing knowledge is just as powerful as creating art.

That mindset carried into judging this weekend.
Being asked to sit on the other side of the table was humbling. You see everything differently when you’re evaluating the work of others, not just the technical skill, but the heart behind it. The patience. The hours no one sees.

I’ve built a career on precision and discipline, but more than anything, on integrity. That’s what I wanted to bring into the judging process. Fairness, honesty, respect for the craft.

Because at the end of the day, it’s not about whose name is on the trophy. It’s about recognizing the art that moves people. The kind that lasts.

You could really feel the uplifting vibe throughout the weekend. For a first time show, it had everything that reminds you why this industry still matters—artists supporting one another, real community energy, no ego.

When it came time for Best of Show, I stepped aside.

I didn’t want to be the one judging when my daughter, Reena, was in the mix. She and Nigel collabed on an incredible black and grey realism backpiece—powerful, dramatic, and full of movement. The level of detail, the flow, the storytelling, it stopped people in their tracks.

But when it came to judging, I didn’t want people thinking that the Pho name had anything to do with her standing, that bias had any play in the outcome.

So I brought in another artist I respect deeply, Charlene from Painted Hearts Studio, who specializes in color work. She was a highlight of the show herself, had her own point of view to lend to the experience. When Charlene called out Reena and Nigel’s names for Best of Show, I couldn’t have been more proud.

They’re best friends, and together they push each other in ways that remind me what this art form is all about.

They’re setting the bar for the next generation. That’s exactly how it should be.

“My whole life is to make you proud.” -Reena Pho

After taking home a trophy of her own, that’s what she said to me.

To hear that, as a father, is surreal.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking more about the bigger picture lately. About how what we build doesn’t end with us.

To see my daughter not only carry the name, but elevate it, that’s something I’ll never take for granted. She’s not just following in my footsteps; she’s writing her own story, inspiring people in ways I never could imagine.

All weekend, people came up to tell me their daughters are fans of Reena. Watching her break boundaries in what was once a male-dominated space, it’s so rewarding. Seeing her and Nigel, side by side, tattooing until 6 a.m., pushing their limits, doing it all with a smile—I see the future of this craft.

That kind of impact, that spark, that dedication, that’s the real win. That’s everything.

I see my legacy, not just through my daughter, but through all the artists who are putting their all into what they love.

It’s moments like that that make me realize what all of this is for. The long nights, the pressure, the sacrifices. It’s not about the titles or trophies. It’s about seeing the people you’ve poured into stand tall on their own.

Building Beyond Myself

I’ve spent most of my life focused on my own growth and the growth of everything I’ve built.

But I’m learning that evolution doesn’t mean slowing down. It means expanding. These days, my purpose isn’t just to create; it’s to teach, to guide, to keep pushing the artists around me to reach new levels while I do the same.

Over the last year, that shift has become more real than ever.
I’ve been spending more time with my apprentices—Bella, Iddy, Eduardo, Gianna, and the new generation coming up behind them—passing down what I’ve learned the same way it was once passed down to me.

Teaching them patience. Technique. Professionalism.
But also the parts that don’t get talked about enough: the mindset, the discipline, the respect for the craft that keeps you grounded through success.

That’s been the foundation of the tattoo academy I’ve been building. A place where artists can come to learn the why behind the work. Not just how to make something look good, but how to make it mean something.

I want to give them the kind of support I wish I’d had early on, and create a real path forward for the next generation of artists who are hungry for their chance to create a life for themselves, their family, and elevate this industry.

That same energy carried straight into our grand opening at Rodeo 39, the official OC Tattoo Festival afterparty.

We had food, drinks, music, people shoulder to shoulder celebrating not just another studio, but what it represents: a space built for community. For collaboration. For the future.

The turnout was unreal. The kind of night that makes you stop and take it all in, the laughter, the stories, the love for this art that’s shaped all our lives.

Standing there, surrounded by artists, clients, and supporters from every walk of life, I couldn’t help but think: this is exactly what we’ve been talking about.

This is the narrative that Skin Design stands for. That Merger stands for.
Community, collaboration, and keeping the culture in the hands of the people who built it.

Ink is just the beginning. The real art is what we build beyond the skin: the connections, the mentorship, the stories that keep this industry alive.

We don’t know where or when yet, but we’ve already got the vision for the next step: a Merger Expo, a show created by artists, for artists. And if this weekend was any sign, the foundation is already here.

I’ve lived a lot of lives, and each one keeps teaching me what my purpose really looks like.
It’s not about being the best in the room. It’s about helping others believe they can be.