The Underground of Tattoo Artists
A black van labeled ‘Marine Home Improvement’ pulls up to the curb of the Abington Tram Station. Mickey Glozzer, a self-taught and unlicensed tattoo artist, waves through the window, the thin black mask on their face somehow imprinted by the warm smile underneath. Enthusiastic conversation erupts almost immediately on the short ride to their tattoo studio, accompanied by the sounds of loose wood panels and toolboxes sliding on the van’s floor.
“I started in high school with stick and pokes,” they shrugged while chuckling to themselves, “ pretty common way to start. I had like India ink and a needle, it was not very sanitary, honestly, starting out.” Non-toxic India ink, a natural and carbon pigmented ink manufactured for writing and printing, is popular among the homemade tattoo community as a cheaper alternative to tattoo ink. "My friend, Tyler, is really the reason I got into machine tattooing. He gave me my first tattoo gun,” Glozzer, who identifies with he/they pronouns, remembers.
A sketchbook sits next to Glozzer’s first tattoo machine gun.
Tyler handed Glozzer a $50 Dragonhawk tattoo gun he ordered off of Amazon. Specifically, it was a wrap coil tattoo machine that works by pushing electromagnetic currents through a pair of coils to trigger the armature bar that guides the tip of the needle in and out of the skin. Coil machines are the more old-school and traditional machine choice with a choppier flow and louder buzz in comparison to a Rotary system. Rotary tattoos machines operate through a significantly smaller motor that rotates clockwise to move the needle in, up, and out of the skin, a much smoother and more quiet process that newer tattoo artists, like Glozzer, seem to prefer as they grow.
The shift into Glozzer’s space is colorful and eccentric. The bookshelves are filled with sketchbooks and portfolios of past work, paint, colorful ink, and kooky knicknacks from babydoll heads to hello kitty dispensers. Upon the black desk sits a preserved bat floating in a mason jar of formaldehyde, a ceramic structure made by a friend, and a cross. An Ibituruna chocolate milk carton, named after a region in Brazil-- Glozzer’s birth place-- sits on top of an open sketchbook filled with doodles and stickers.
He sits on the rolling chair, feet pointed on the ground. “My first tattoo was on Tyler back in 2019. He wanted me to fix the one he tried to do on himself. It was just like a weirdly shaped oval and a triangle that I turned into a goat skull.” After he posted to instagram, friends and followers began reaching out for their own tattoos by Glozzer. “I started out bouncing from different friend’s houses. I would just carry a toolbox I got from Lesley, with all my equipment in it. It wasn’t a lot of stuff,” Glozzer chuckled.
After attending two semesters at Lesley University, College of Arts and Design, Glozzer dropped out. “If Lesley gave me anything , they gave me that toolbox.” Glozzer laughed before quickly becoming more serious, “I just didn’t get the point of wasting all that money going to college if I was already doing what I wanted to do.” Two years later, Glozzer is much better equipped. “I have a lot of prep equipment now that I can’t lug around. I’m very serious when it comes to sanitizing and disinfecting, which is a lot easier when it’s your own place.”
The mirror behind the tattoo bed displays in pink and green marker Glozzer’s Venmo and Cash App information with a bold note underneath framed by two hearts. “PLEASE DON’T USE “TATTOO” IN PAYMENT DESCRIPTION.``A quick reminder of the reality for many unlicensed tattoo artists in Massachusetts. A constant stage of paranoia, Glozzer described it. Glozzer’s business and only form of income can be shut down at any point and time. Perhaps a judgmental neighbor or a pissed off parent could make the call to the Boston Health Department, but Glozzer says he had to let go of the fear in order to continue.
Despite the constant risks and fears of an illegal pursuit, Glozzer openly posts and shares his tattoos online. Operating out of a room in Abington, Massachusetts, Glozzer’s business has grown in the past two years as he collaborates with other unlicensed tattoo artists in various states as well as tattooing at local events. Through his unique tattoo style, a focus on client relations and a dedication to professionalism, Glozzer’s calendar continues to get booked months in advance.
“I’ve thought about getting certified, but it would just change the way I operate my business. It’s really expensive to become licensed, and I couldn’t have my own studio or gauge my clients pricing. It’s not something I’m really in a rush to do.”
“I have to go pick Nina up from the station,” Glozzer said. It’s a service he provides because his clients often must travel an hour by train to see him. This is not the only way Glozzer prioritizes his clients, Tattoo payment requires $25 to book and a sliding scale of $60 to $200 to accommodate what clients can pay. “People pay what they can, and if they can pay more they usually do. These are mostly college students so I understand their financial situation might not be the best, and I make a good amount of money. I actually trade for tattoos, too. My friend traded me Mario Kart for a tattoo. That was the entire payment. ”
Nina, a junior college student who uses gender-neutral pronouns, is on their second tattoo. They undid their overalls and lifted their shirt to unveil their first, a mosaic of flowers and a double headed deer piece that stretched across their stomach.
Glozzer is slow to critique other tattoo artists and salons, as he believes he’s “still learning” even after two years of business. However, he is very comfortable to speak about the allure of his studio. “I want my customers to feel comfortable and respected. You know, I want it to feel like we’re hanging out.” And it does. Nina sips on chocolate milk from a carton as they chat about Animal Crossing and Spongebob episodes. Glozzer prints out the sketch, marking the design on Nina’s forearm.
“I kind of want it a bit bigger,” Lena says hesitantly.
“Yeah, of course. Do you want me to add some sparkles to this side to even it out?”
“Yes, sorry if I’m being difficult.”
“Not at all, It’s your tattoo.” Glozzer shakes his head in assurance.
The tattoo is a sort of abstract image, a creature cute in the face and the body of a bat flies among text and stars shining. His style of tattooing, distinct in line work and imagery, revolves heavily around gothic church symbolism, farm animals, nursery books. At times, throughout Glozzer’s sketchbook, he writes his name Mickey Jesus, instead of Glozzer. An alter ego that drives his tattoo style, Mickey Jesus- a cohesive narrative that flows throughout his sketches and tattoo pieces.
``It’s almost like a story, you know, it's a big castle on the hill. It’s kind of like the story for the alchemist. There’s a shepherd and he makes this really long journey to God. And there’s a church and a river. I think I’m always taking images from this story in my head and also things that I think are cute and pretty in the world. It's all very personal to me.”
