Carving anti social across the stomach describes the sentiment, without words, first by the strength of its form, the arch. Second, the endurance of the placement is no understatement and by shaping the words from bone suggests sustenance derived from the idea, the meat of it eaten and digested, nourishment for the collector maybe. Or is this the remains of an ideal, found picked clean by the birds, bleached by sun and rain, its skeleton weathering the test of time. Time, who is ever present, each tattoo marking the path, for every inch of skin a moment of your life, a trail of bread crumbs receading into the forest.
Whatever true tale this body holds there is also a perfect conundrum. The label "antisocial"and being marked by tattoos go hand in hand and yet such a large tattoo will certainly bring the collector attention and interest, most likely by others with ink, searching ,as we always are, for connections and commonality. Seeking equilibrium between creativity and entropy, pushing away and drawing closer.
From sketch idea to tattoo, just like magic.
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