MEDITATION
If I wear a short shirt or a bathing suit, I show the world something that matters to me. The thin drawing of the Wooster on my ribs peaks out from under the hem. It is something I will always have to answer for. Strangers can ask about it and even if they don’t, they can assume that this brush, for whatever reason, is important to me. It represents more than an affinity for an oddly shaped brush. I’d become a different person through painting my mural. Day after day, I put every emotion I felt
into dipping my Wooster and dragging it along the wall. The final step was putting my name on the top, claiming my work. I reveled in that feeling of semi-permanent vulnerability, and I wanted to celebrate it. My tattoo is one step closer to permanence. Unlike the wall, I can’t turn my back on my tattoo and walk away. No amount of burying or subverting can make it go away. Now I am marked with what matters to me.