I was never an artist, at least I never thought I was.  I didn’t grow up knowing that I would become an artist; I didn’t ‘always want to tattoo’.  It found me, I stumbled upon it?  I’m not sure which or why but I am glad it happened.

I spent my adolescence in rural Tennessee, running around the woods, playing soldier.  Then my teenage years in South Florida, hanging out at the beach, playing skater.  The best of both worlds.

After spending time in the service I relocated to NE Ohio, and set about raising two wonderful children.  The combination of getting a sleeve done by Mike Helms and factory work set my mind to thoughts of more artistic means of employment.  So with a drawing pad and pencil in hand I started the long road to becoming a tattoo artist; with a few detours, roadblocks, and dead-ends along the way.

That was 1996, I didn’t start tattooing full-time until the spring of 2001.  Finding my ‘tattoo family’ at Gen X Tattoos in the process.  I was fortunate to find Ron early, drawing inspiration and knowledge from him and everyone else at the shop.  The continual push to do better and the sharing of ideas is invaluable.

After 10 years plying my craft in NE Ohio it was time to move on. Yet again after a few detours, road blocks, and dead-ends I wound up in Middle TN. Making Bright Ideas my home base as I travel and explore the tattoo scene in new regions.

Somewhere along the way I found running, long distance running to be exact.  That and CrossFit.  I realized that a healthy mind meant creating a healthy body.  CrossFit & running do that for me; Wall Balls for time, 5k repeats, or any other variety of WOD makes me want to eat healthy to fuel the next one which makes me want to sleep well to rest for the next one which makes me….  You can see the upward spiral.  I’m constantly asked why I would want to exercise the way I do.  As if everyone views it as punishment or torture.  For me it’s meditation time, healthy mind time.

So if tattooing is one side of the coin, and running is the other, what makes the middle?  My family of course.  The ones I share a house with and those I don’t.  The ones I see daily and those I haven’t seen in a decade.  They make up the middle, holding everything together.