The tattoo industry is changing.
Between the oversaturation of the market, the shift away from traditional shops, the rising cost of living, and the threat of capital investors — there just isn’t room for complacency. There isn’t room for a work-life balance.
You have to adopt a hustle mindset. You have to fully give yourself over to the artform.
So many artists find themselves rich with talent but still stuck at the bottom, failing to rise to the top — or even keep up with the demands of the industry.
To survive in this environment, you have to be all in.
While an unprecedented amount of shops are shutting down, Skin Design Tattoos is still expanding. We’re opening modern, luxurious studios all across the globe — from SoHo, New York, to Thailand.
This doesn’t come for free. And the cost is a lot more than money can buy.
The price? Time with our families. A life outside of tattooing. Our mental health. Sometimes, our physical well-being.
That’s just what it takes to compete in an industry like ours.
Sacrifice and Redemption
Being a tattoo artist means fully immersing yourself in your craft. You have to become one with the needle, leaving your own wants and needs behind.
Prison offered me an unexpected path to freedom. It’s where I learned to tattoo. It’s given me the power to break free from the chains of my past.
Since then, I’ve spent over three decades dedicating myself to my work.
Each year has been a testament to my commitment to this craft. I’ve built a world renowned, nine-studio empire from what was once a 200-square-foot, two artist North Carolina shop.
Skin Design tattoos has become a globally recognized brand with some of the most influential artists on the scene. But with every boundary I’ve pushed in this industry, I’ve had to push myself twice as hard.
And even now, even when outsiders looking in would say that I’ve “made it,” this feels like just the beginning. I still have to sacrifice so much for what I do.
No matter how much money you have, there is one resource that is universally fleeting: Time.
I go weeks, sometimes months, without seeing my family. I’ve missed birthdays, anniversaries, and countless holidays traveling for my job, mentoring, and going to expos. Those are experiences I can’t get back.
These last few Mother’s Days, I’ve had to wish my wife my love from my hotel room, alone and thousands of miles away.
It hurts.
Unveiling Truths
This industry takes time away from your family, but it also shows you who your real family is. It shows you people’s true intentions.
When you find success, people’s reaction to it can be really telling. You have the people who genuinely support you, the people who look at your success and feel nothing but pride. The people who believed in you from day one, when you came from nothing, will beam congratulations when you surpass your humble beginnings.
But success also breeds jealousy. It can even strain the closest bonds. That’s something I had to learn the hard way by losing connections to members of my own family.
It’s taught me a lot of lessons in resilience. Just like with every other obstacle thrown my way, I’ll continue to find a way around it and keep moving forward.
I refuse to let resentment keep me from sharing the benefits of my success with the people I love. That wouldn’t be fair to the people closest to me, to my family who stands beside me and keeps me strong.
And I know from experience that success is worth nothing when it’s enjoyed alone.
Finding Family
The SDT team — we have to become a fill-in family for each other. We see each other so often, work alongside one another, we get it. We know how it feels to watch your children grow up through images, to miss bedtime rituals for the sake of finishing up a session.
We share a common goal: To provide for our families the lives and the opportunities we never had ourselves. To create a legacy. To create art — to create a future for our children that we can look back and be proud of.
It’s painful for all of us. But I could never ask from my team what I wouldn’t give myself.
More than Talent
Talent is not enough. Even the most gifted artists need unwavering dedication and commitment to survive. They need to have hunger. Insatiable hunger.
When I hire artists, I have to look beyond the art. I have to see the person, see their drive, their willingness to devote themselves to their work.
Typically, I hold interviews with little-to-no notice. I’ll announce that I’m conducting them Saturday morning — on a Friday night.
I’ve had artists drop everything, rearrange their plans, and take a red-eye flight to the city I’m hosting them in, just to fly back home after the interview.
This is how I can gauge if they’re really hungry for it.
Once hired, artists have to work for thirty days to complete their trial process. Thirty days straight — no breaks, no sick days.
It can be brutal. I fired my own daughter when I didn’t think she could handle it.
I’ve had artists quit after three days, crying that they miss their families. I’ve also had some of my most accomplished artists cry that they miss their families, wipe their tears, chug a coffee, and get back to tattooing.
I think about Linh, SDT SoHo’s co-owner and resident artist, and how she had to leave her young children with loved ones while she came into work. Grueling hours — way beyond the thirty day timeframe.
It’s all about how much you can take. How badly you want it.
You lose time with your family, but you do it for them. You give up those moments, those memories, to secure their well-being in the long-term.
You do it to provide. To provide a better life, you elevate yourself through your art.
Giving One Life for Another
For the Empire State Tattoo Expo, I had to fly up early and prepare. Between the expo, the SoHo’s grand opening, tattooing, interviews, and running my business, I hardly had time to eat.
I’ve had to learn to compartmentalize the million different tasks running simultaneously through my head just to function.
While traveling, I fell ill. Then, during the grand opening party, I hyperextended my knee. My recurring migraines came back to plague me.
When you’re in the position I’m in, you don’t get to take sick days.
You don’t get to indulge in “mental health” when the toll it’s taking on your physical health is already on the verge of too much.
Mental health as a concept has been gaining a lot of notoriety. There’s a lot of merit to that.
The thing is, that’s just a luxury I cannot afford. I still haven’t seen a doctor about my hyperextended knee — even when the pain is excruciating. I just don’t have the bandwidth.
“Mental health,” for me, isn’t a part of my vocabulary.
I was raised in an environment where you had to struggle just to survive. I was dodging bullets since I could walk. Before I was even out of junior high, I had friends who I could only see behind prison glass.
But it made me strong. It taught me the stakes. There are no excuses — I’ll do whatever it takes to give a better life to my family than the one that shaped me.
Over the weekend, while I was too sick to make it to the expo, I still conducted interviews in my hotel room. Whatever state I’m in, the grind never stops.
Holed up, I didn’t waste any time. I didn’t take these obstacles as an opportunity to heal, but as a chance to pivot SDT’s growth by connecting with applicants. I looked for like-minded artists who recognize the price of success in this industry, but know that the rewards are worth the fight.
Because that’s the truth. Every hurdle I clear further fuels my passion. The industry gives back what you put in.
The Reason for the Fight
This industry has given me everything. It inspires me to be better, day after day. A better father, a better husband, and a better man.
It’s helped me overcome my dark past. It’s allowed me to connect with artists and clients from all over the world, to hear their story, and heal from their words. It’s empowered me to connect with my culture, and to share that with my daughter as she grows into an artist of her own.
It’s enabled me to create a legacy for my family to inherit, to leave my roots in this world.
So, while I might not have “mental health” — I still have a deeply fulfilling life. It’s about perspective, it’s about grit, and it’s about loving what you do.
To me, it is worth every loss. I’ll be able to look back one day with pride on what I’ve created and what I’ve accomplished. I’ve been able to not only provide for my family, but to prove to them what you can achieve with relentless hard work, endurance, and accountability.
My family. They’re the reason behind the fight — and the reason I will never stop fighting.
