Modern tattooists have access to better tattoo equipment, better education and more information than any generation before them. So why does improving feel harder than ever?
We’ve Solved the Tattoo Equipment Problem
Every morning I walk around my local lake.
Two laps is about five kilometres and it’s a nice way to wake up before heading to the studio. Lately though, I’ve started noticing the other regulars.
There’s one bloke who photographs the ducks. I know a thing or two about cameras and I can tell you he’s carrying about twelve grand’s worth of lens – the sort of thing you’d expect if David Attenborough had just rung and asked you to film penguins.
Then there’s the fisherman dragging what looks like a small expedition behind him. Rods. Bait. Bite alarms. A camouflage shelter. Even an AeroPress coffee maker.
The runners aren’t much different. They’re carrying hydration packs as though they’re crossing the Sahara despite the fact there’s a supermarket two minutes away.
Somewhere around my second lap I found myself wondering whether anybody actually has a hobby anymore, or whether we’ve quietly become hobbyists in buying things for our hobbies.
The uncomfortable realisation was that tattooing isn’t any different.
When I first got into tattooing, information was difficult to find. Good machines were difficult to buy and learning depended heavily on who you knew. Most of us simply worked with whatever tattoo equipment we could get our hands on because there wasn’t much alternative.
Today the situation couldn’t be more different.
Every machine imaginable is only a few clicks away, complete with reviews, comparisons and opinions. There are tutorials, seminars, podcasts and discussion groups covering every conceivable aspect of tattooing. If you have a question, someone has almost certainly answered it already.
In many ways, tattooing has never been more accessible.
That’s something worth celebrating.
Better tattoo equipment, better education and easier access to knowledge have raised the standard of tattooing enormously. I wouldn’t want to go back to the days when good information was guarded or good equipment was difficult to find.
But every solution creates its own problems.
The feeling that the perfect machine, the perfect technique or the perfect workflow is only another search away is one of them.
We’ve solved the problem of access.
Today’s challenge is learning what to ignore.
Too Much Choice Creates a New Problem
When options were limited, you couldn’t spend months researching the perfect setup. You simply worked with what you had. If your machine wasn’t ideal you learned how to make it work. If your needles weren’t perfect you adapted. Those limitations forced you to solve problems through practice rather than purchasing and, in many cases, they even shaped people’s individual styles.
Scarcity forced us to ask,
“How do I make this work?”
Abundance encourages us to ask,
“What should I change next?”
It’s a subtle shift, but an important one.
Every recommendation sounds reasonable. Every upgrade feels worthwhile. Every new product promises to remove another small obstacle. Before long, even conscientious tattooists who genuinely want to improve begin worrying that they’re missing something.
Ironically, the search for the perfect tattoo equipment can become the very thing preventing us from making progress.
Why Optimisation Feels Like Progress
I realised I’d fallen into exactly the same trap, although not through tattooing.
It happened because of guitar picks.
About forty years ago, while making tea in a recording studio, a brilliant session guitarist handed me a Fender Confetti Pick. Heavy gauge. It became my pick. Studio sessions, albums and touring – I used that same style of pick for decades.
Then, via YouTube, I discovered Eddie Van Halen used a different gauge and The Edge preferred a different material.
Naturally, I decided to experiment.
What followed was a two-year rabbit hole involving carbon, nylon, celluloid, wood, metal and enough different shapes to open a small museum.
The punchline?
Today I’m back where I started, using the same Fender Confetti Pick.
I wasn’t tricked. I wasn’t scammed. I simply mistook optimisation for improvement.
It’s an easy mistake to make because buying something feels productive. Watching another tutorial feels productive. Reorganising your workstation feels productive. Research feels productive.
Some of those things are genuinely useful.
None of them are the same as actually doing the work.
Real improvement is uncomfortable. It asks us to make mistakes, solve problems and repeat the same process until something eventually clicks.
Optimisation asks much less of us.
It also gives us something practice rarely can.
Certainty.
Buying a machine is measurable. Booking a seminar is measurable. Installing new software is measurable. Those things provide the satisfying feeling that we’ve moved forward.
Practice doesn’t always feel like that.
Mastery rarely arrives all at once. It creeps up on us so gradually that we often only recognise it when we look backwards.
I remember attending conventions early in my career and watching experienced tattooists laughing, chatting and listening to music while producing incredible work. Secretly I thought, I’ll never be able to do that. I have to concentrate.
Nearly a decade later I found myself sitting in a booth in Venice doing exactly the same thing with two close friends before suddenly realising something.
I hadn’t become distracted.
I’d become experienced.
Years of practice had quietly changed me in a way no amount of optimisation ever could.
This Isn’t Really a Tattoo Equipment Problem
Writing this made me realise something.
This isn’t really a tattoo problem.
I could replace the word “tattooing” in this article with photography, filmmaking, music or almost any other creative pursuit and the same pattern would emerge. Unlimited access encourages us to believe there’s always one more purchase, one more upgrade or one more piece of knowledge standing between us and the person we’d like to become.
Sometimes that’s true.
Most of the time it isn’t.
The thing that moves us forward isn’t another upgrade.
It’s sitting down and doing the work.
The Goal Was Never the Perfect Setup
That doesn’t mean we should reject technology or stop buying new tattoo equipment.
Modern tattooing is better because those things exist.
The challenge is remembering what they’re for.
Perhaps the question isn’t whether something is better.
Perhaps it’s whether it will genuinely help us spend more time tattooing.
Because the goal was never to build the perfect setup.
The goal was always to become a better tattooist.
Continue the Conversation
Have you ever found yourself chasing the perfect tattoo setup instead of simply spending more time tattooing?
I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments below.
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