Most people don’t hesitate because they’re unsure about tattoos. They hesitate because they believe they should be able to fully predict the outcome before anything begins.

Large tattoos work best when the process is allowed to unfold.

Trying to pre‑decide every detail up front often creates more anxiety, not less. The scale, placement, and presence of a tattoo only fully reveal themselves once it starts interacting with a real body. Waiting for perfect certainty usually means waiting indefinitely

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A tattoo doesn’t live on a screen or on paper. It lives on a moving, changing body.

An initial concept is exactly that , a concept. As it’s applied to a real person, adjustments are inevitable. Proportions shift, lines respond to muscle and bone, and decisions are refined in response to how the body carries the work.

What changes is the execution, not the idea. In most cases, the concept becomes clearer and stronger once it’s shaped by the body.

My work focuses on how a tattoo sits, how it moves, and how it’s perceived over years — not just how it looks in a single, controlled moment.

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More coverage does not automatically mean a better tattoo.

Full sleeves, partial sleeves, and open compositions all have their place. Leaving skin visible is not a sign that something is unfinished  it’s often what allows a tattoo to stay legible, balanced, and visually calm over time.

Restraint is part of the design. It’s not a compromise.

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Highly finished drawings lock decisions too early.

Bodies aren’t flat, symmetrical, or static. A tattoo that looks perfect on paper can feel forced once it’s placed on a real person. For that reason, my process involves building the tattoo in stages, allowing the body itself to inform proportion, flow, and adjustments as the work develops.

Simplicity plays a major role in this. I’m not interested in cramming in detail for its own sake. Clear shapes, controlled contrast, and intentional negative space allow a tattoo to be read from a distance, to respect the form it’s placed on, and to remain legible as the skin changes over time.

Too much detail or too much tattoo without room to breathe  inevitably softens, blurs, and becomes harder to read with years. By prioritizing structure and clarity from the beginning, the work holds its presence not just when it’s fresh, but decades later.

This approach requires trust, but it consistently produces better long‑term results.

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It’s normal for moments of uncertainty to appear during the process. I want people to feel comfortable speaking up if something doesn’t feel right.

Scale may change. Placement may shift. What initially feels unfamiliar often becomes the strongest part of the tattoo once it settles. Discomfort, hesitation, or needing to talk something through is not a sign that something is wrong it’s part of working carefully and honestly.

At the same time, there’s an important difference between uncertainty and a deeper feeling of dread about living with the work long‑term. If that feeling is present, I need to know. Being open about it allows us to pause, reassess, or stop entirely if needed. That honesty is part of respecting both the body and the tattoo.

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This approach works best for people who:

• Are comfortable committing to a process rather than a fixed outcome

• Value longevity and clarity over trends or density

• Are open to guidance and adjustment along the way

It is not a good fit for rushed timelines, exact replicas, or highly controlled projects where every detail needs to be decided upfront.

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The specifics , layout, coverage, timing , come later.
What matters first is whether this way of working feels right to you.

If it does, then we’re likely ready to talk next steps , whether that means completing an application, continuing the conversation, or simply taking more time to think. This page is here to make sure that, however we proceed, we’re starting from the same place.

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- Chad