The Beginning
I couldn’t tell you the exact moment I knew.
Not the age, not the day.
But what matters now is that I know my purpose.
I know my passion.
We’re all drawn to art — sunsets, machines, people, places.
It surrounds us. And I believe each of us has a reason to be here while we are.
Where It Started
My tattoo career began in 2012 at Blu Gorilla Tattoo in Charleston, South Carolina.
At that point in my life, I was lost. No direction.
I was a bouncer at a music venue, living in a three-bedroom flat with six roommates. I paid $100 a month to sleep on the living room floor.
No car. No license. Everything I owned fit in a bookbag that doubled as my pillow.
But I wanted something better.
I walked to work every day — rain, shine, heat, cold — because no one was going to outwork me.
Blu Gorilla started me at their sister shop, Peppershade Tattoo — a bare-bones, beat-up spot with no computer, no internet, no thermofax. Just one artist and a lot of chaos.
I got to work fast: cleaning, organizing, repainting the neon green walls, fixing the black-and-white checkered tile. In a few months, that shop went from barely surviving to a four-artist crew pumping out tattoos seven days a week.
They saw what I was doing.
They saw how much I cared.
I was moved to the flagship location and promoted to manager. It sounded good, but I was still broke — living off artist tips and bouncing money. The phone never stopped ringing. The walk-ins never stopped coming.
And when I had a moment to breathe, I drew. I’d drawn my whole life but never thought it would mean anything.
Building from the Ground Up
In my third year, Blu Gorilla bought another shop across town — and handed it to me.
They gave me a credit card and one month to turn it around.
Still no car. No license. No money.
Didn’t matter.
I built Blu Gorilla Goose Creek from the ground up.
Booths, desk, art on every wall, and a layout designed to feel right. I was determined to make it better — not just for us, but for the clients who walked through the door.
And I was lucky — I worked alongside four men who shaped me deeply:
David Riley, who welcomed me from day one and never let up.
Tony Gacci, a machine of a man with 20 years of tattooing and a mouth full of lessons.
Paul Zapico, a beautiful kind of insane — relentless, driven, addicted to the art.
Chris Castro, who I still can’t put into words. He stepped into my spot downtown so I could build something new, and when it was done, I was burnt. I’d been doing 16-hour days, hundreds of clients, thousands of phone calls, for $40 a day.
The Apprenticeship
I was 25. I knew something had to give.
I asked for an apprenticeship.
I was denied.
At the time, I didn’t get it. Looking back, I think the owner just needed to see how bad I really wanted it.
So I waited. I asked again. Denied again.
Eventually, I said I’d walk — and that’s when I was finally given a shot.
It wasn’t what I expected.
My pay dropped to zero. The hours got longer. The pressure got heavier.
But there’s nothing I won’t overcome.
The lessons came slow. I had to learn most of it myself — watching, trying, failing, trying again.
Even my tattoo lineage wasn’t something they talked about. And in a way, I’m glad.
I didn’t find out until nearly ten years in that my roots trace straight back to the foundation of American tattooing.
It gave me a whole new level of respect — not just for the work, but for what it took to get here.
This Will Evolve
This is still being written — and I’ll keep updating it over time.
But for now, I just want to say thank you.
For your patience. For your interest. For even reading this far.
I hope you’ve come to understand a piece of who I am —
Where I came from. Where I’m going.
Because without you, I’d have none of this.
Thank you.