Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Isabel Bump. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Izzy, thanks for joining us today. Has your work ever been misunderstood or mischaracterized?

When I started my tattoo apprenticeship, I was 22 years old and had recently moved back in with my parents. When I broke the news that I would be pursuing tattooing as a career, my parents were, predictably, not thrilled. My dad especially.

His personality is easiest to describe as hippie-adjacent; he was in high school in Wisconsin in the 70’s, and still uses “groovy” in everyday conversational speech. He’s emotional, and loves books and movies and music; I got that from him. He’s one of the smartest, most critical people I know, recognizes when he makes mistakes, and lives by morals in hopes the world that my sister and I live in is a little bit kinder than the one he grew up in. All of that said, people are surprised when I tell them his reaction to my accepting a tattoo apprenticeship was judgment and fear. He comes off as a good man who challenges discrimination and injustice, who values excellence but loves the simple things in life almost as much as he loves his daughters. But, at the time, the only people he associated with visible tattoos were stereotypical, unsavory criminals; the bogeyman caricature of a world he was never really adjacent to, despite seeing Queen in concert as a teen and getting his ear pierced in the 80s. So, my career choice felt to him like he had failed as a parent; that I was no longer his little girl who loved playing outside and making art, that wanted to help others. That I would rather become a degenerate among degenerates.

Of course, this was a misunderstanding of how vast the world of tattooing is, and why people get tattooed in the first place.

I know I’m lucky to have parents who love and support me, even if they don’t 100% agree with what I’m doing. Over the past six years, as I’ve improved in skill, branded myself as a coverup tattoo artist, and found communities that align with my particular realm of tattooing (trauma-informed, queer, neurodivergent and charitable), I’ve seen my dad’s view of my career choice change drastically. It started with him realizing that not only “a certain type of person” gets tattooed, as he previously believed; coworkers and friends would ask him how I was doing, and he’d tell them I was training to be a tattoo artist. On multiple occasions, people he had known for years would respond with enthusiasm, showing him a tattoo he never knew they had, that they loved or wanted revitalized. He didn’t realize how many people he knew had tattoos; once he revealed that his daughter was a tattoo person, he became a safe person for people to talk about tattoos as well. This completely challenged his misconception that respectable people just don’t get tattoos; people that he knew and liked were suddenly outing themselves as valuing tattoos like I did.

The second change came just after I moved to Colorado; I was about three years into my career, and was visiting Philly, where I’m from. I said something to my parents about how being kind to a client can go a long way. At that point, I had multiple clients tell me they had initially gone to a different artist, but that tattooer had been rude, unprofessional, or downright mean about what they wanted. Maybe there are tattoo artists who are more artistically talented than me, sure, but if they make a client feel bad about themselves or uncomfortable, that client will come to me instead, and will keep coming back, which is a win for me. While this was a comment about bedside manner and kindness, my dad got very flustered and asked me, “how can you say that? Everything you make is amazing.” He had taken my comment as me putting my skills down, and even though he doesn’t really like tattoos himself, didn’t think that was true. I was flattered.

The final, most recent transformation of my dad’s view towards tattoos came a few months ago, when I was visiting home again. In February of this year, my dad was diagnosed with prostate cancer. While it’s definitely the best case cancer scenario and one of the least life threatening, his treatment is intense. It has involved side-effect heavy medication, radiation, and undergoing a major surgery. My sister and I both went home to see him while he was recovering, and I was surprised when he asked me if it was possible to tattoo over scars. My dad, who I thought would never want a tattoo in a million years, who was incredibly resistant to my becoming a tattoo artist in the first place, who thought my choosing that path meant falling into a life of crime and hardness and destitution. He has five scars on his torso from his surgery, and as a person who loves the ocean, told me that he hated the idea of being at the beach and people being able to see them. I happily told him that yes, you can tattoo over scars, as long as it’s been at least a year; and that doing tattoos that help build people’s confidence in their own bodies is exactly what I do. He’s joked that he might get a zipper.

I’ve never been the kind of person who needs the approval of others to pursue a goal when I believe it’s the right thing. But, it definitely makes me feel good to know that by continuing to be myself, the person that my parents raised me to be, that my dad can begin to understand why tattoos are valuable and why I love them so much. That I’ve been able to change his misconception about tattoos, and help him see why they’re more than just pictures or a sign of an immoral lifestyle. Why I love my job, and why it matters. Tattoos don’t exist exclusively to just look tough, or intimidate. They help us connect with our bodies, with our cultures. They are healing. They can make us feel deep joy and confidence, and love. And I think if more people knew more about tattoos, more people with tattoos, they would see that. I do think the industry is moving that direction; we’re at a point where tattoos are more socially accepted than ever before. I’m grateful that the tool I wield to make people happier is more commonly being recognized that way; both by people I love, and by strangers too.

Izzy, love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?

My name is Izzy Bump, and I’m a trauma-informed tattoo artist that specializes in botanical color tattoos and coverups. I’ve wanted to work in the arts for as long as I can remember; but I still wanted to make a difference in the world. When I started tattooing, I was a bit worried that I was being more self-indulgent than a force for positive change, which led me to pursue coverup tattoos. In my young mind, coverups were the most obvious “make a difference” thing a tattoo artist could do. Since I began tattooing in January of 2017, aside from achieving that specialization in scar and tattoo coverups, tattooing has made it possible for me to raise several thousand dollars for the ACLU and community mutual aid, I’ve become a trauma-informed tattoo artist, and have learned so much about how tattoos can help us connect with ourselves and uplift our confidence. I don’t think I’m singlehandedly changing the world with the work I do, but I know that I help people feel more at home in their own bodies one at a time, and that’s worth it for me. I do have a lot of clients who are the ones making big change happen, and I’m honored to be able to support them; I have clients who work in education, health equity, and disaster relief; who are therapists, social workers, and more. I definitely see my role as supportive, for those who are often helping others before they help themselves, whether it’s their job, for their families, or for strangers. I’m glad that I can provide respite and self care for those who spend so much of their lives working for a better world. Even if my clients don’t fall into the category of “movers and shakers,” I have so many more who are brave enough to trust another person with something as significant as a tattoo when they have been hurt before; people who have been treated unkindly for disability, illness, queerness, weight, gender, or the color of their skin. Every person deserves to have a tattoo artist who cares for them, who is honest, communicates with them, and allows them to feel vulnerable so they can process their emotions and regain hope. So they have the space to be kind to others as well and help build a better world. I don’t just put pretty pictures on people. I provide them with an experience that helps them rest and grow, so they can become stronger for themselves and those they care about. I firmly believe that if we all treated each other this way, the world would be a better place to be for everyone.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

I actually have two that go hand in hand, and I usually refer to them as the two P’s–the notion that tattoos must be perfect, and that they’re permanent. I know I’ve probably lost most people here; from learning what tattoos are in the first place, we are taught that these two concepts must be true, that they are inherent to all tattoos–at least the ones that are worthwhile or “good.” They were also two misconceptions that I had about tattoos before I began tattooing. The first, perfection, I’ve unlearned slowly over the course of my career. When I challenge the idea that tattoos must be perfect, I’m not saying that tattoo artists shouldn’t be striving for perfect, or to improve. The problem is, perfection doesn’t actually exist. If it ever does, it’s completely subjective–someone saying that their tattoo or pet or whatever is perfect is more reflective of how it makes them feel, rather than if it is the universal example of what perfection means for everyone and everything. Art is another thing that is completely subjective, and tattoo art is not immune to this. Of course, there is (arguably) objective skill; are your lines crisp, your colors even? Can you communicate healing instructions well to your clients? These are things that we can always be improving upon, and should want to always be improving upon.

However, expecting tattoos to be perfect, as a client or artist, is just setting yourself up for dissatisfaction, and worse, for the idea that tattoo artists are just copy machines without the further purpose of emotional and professional support. Most of my clients have anxiety, and part of the trauma-informed nature of my job is recognizing that sometimes comes from perfectionism. For example; let’s say a client’s tattoo is healing, and they knock off a scab prematurely, which results in a bit of lost pigment once the tattoo is healed, referred to as “fallout.” Is it worth it for me to antagonize a client for that, or for the client to beat themself up for it? No! Skin is a weird medium, and the stress of perfectionism is so disproportionate to how easy it is to do a quick touch up and put that pigment back where it should be. Of course, we try to avoid it if we can, but it’s not a big deal if it happens, and it doesn’t make me or my client objectively bad or worthless. My job is to make people more comfortable and confident in their bodies; not to dig them deeper into the ideas that have made them feel the opposite. There are too many parts of life that make us feel like we’re not good enough because we made a mistake, or even that we aren’t allowed to make mistakes at all. As long as we don’t make true mistakes that we can’t take back or fix, like transmitting diseases, “imperfection” is not an indication of a bad tattoo.

A big landmark in my unlearning the idea of perfection happened last year. A friend of mine came to town to get a tattoo finished that we had started several years earlier when I was working in a different state. As with any skill, as you progress in tattooing, you improve. That means that if someone has an unfinished tattoo for several years, when they come back, your skills will be at a different place than when you initially worked on it. This was true for the tattoo in question; I was much more confident in my use of fine linework and shading for this second session, and made some changes to previously “finished” parts of the tattoo when I completed it.

When I finished, I commented to my friend that it looked much better now. Instead of seeming happy about it, he looked hurt, and asked me if I really thought it had been a “bad” tattoo before. And here’s something that I hadn’t thought about until that moment; when you tattoo someone, as much as your tattoo is a piece of art you made, that tattoo becomes immediately personal to the client wearing it. Commenting that a tattoo you’ve done isn’t good, or could be better, or isn’t perfect, is a personal insult to someone else, not you just being critical of your own work. It’s shaming a part of them that they carry, that connects you to them. Speaking negatively about their tattoo is the same as saying that you don’t like their haircut or makeup, or worse, the same as bullying someone because of their weight, scars, freckles, or something else about their body that isn’t easy to change. The way that people feel about their tattoos isn’t always about how “perfect” or “artistic” the piece is; more often, it’s about how the tattoo makes them feel. My friend trusted me to do his first tattoo; he helped me gain the skills to be where I am today, and I spoke badly about that tattoo because I didn’t think it was perfect. And I am sorry for that. It was then that I decided to never make a video or post on social media comparing my work as an apprentice to my current work, which would imply that my older work isn’t good. That might be ok when you’re talking about an art form that only requires the artist as a participant; but those old tattoos still exist, and are a part of someone’s body. They’re not closed away in a sketchbook somewhere, or painted over with a new image. Since this realization, I’ve been blown away by clients and friends telling me they love tattoos that I did years ago, where I can see flaws; and I’ve had to learn to be touched by it rather than self-flagellating. We are often our greatest critics, but the whole point of what I do is to give someone confidence. If my tattoos make my clients feel good about themselves, truly, then it doesn’t matter if I perceive parts of the tattoo as “mistakes.” Because that’s not the point of the tattoo.

The second P, permanence, I know is a bit harder to explain away than with just an anecdote about perception. The whole point of tattoos is that they’re permanent, right? The idea that that is even a little bit true was struck from my mind when I read Bushido by Katie and Takahiro Kitamura. The book gives a detailed history of Traditional Japanese tattoos, and while that’s not a style I work in, this book completely changed the path of my career and how I think about tattoos. Early on in the book, the notion that tattoos are impermanent is introduced. The reasoning goes that in the past, Zen Buddhism has been the religion of the people of Japan, just as tattoos were the art form of the everyman. One of the four core tenets of Zen Buddhism is impermanence, which at first seems incompatible with tattoos. But, in Traditional Japanese tattooing, there is an awareness that there is a “peak viewing period” for any tattoo, as any tattoo ages, no matter how skillfully it’s done. Yes, it’s still there in some shape or form, but it changes. That’s just the nature of ink in skin, the science of how our body processes foreign bodies and replaces cells. Further, if someone really wants to change their tattoo, there are options; my being a coverup artist is proof of that. Lasering, while a lengthy and expensive process, is also a solution. Finally, when compared to other art forms, tattoos are one of the least archival; all tattoos have a maximum lifespan of about 100 years, because when the person wearing them dies, they are gone. Even if the bit of skin is preserved for museum purposes, it’s not the same as when it’s on a living person.

So, why is it important to unlearn this idea of permanence in tattooing? Or even perfectionism, for that matter? The reason is because both ideas dismiss the true nature of tattoos themselves. Tattoos aren’t most healing and valuable when they’re “perfect” in a visual sense, and the images and meanings of our tattoos change as we carry them through our lives. We are obsessed as a society with looking young and beautiful forever; but if we genuinely internalized that our tattoos aren’t robotic, perfect pictures that will look the same forever, I believe we would be a lot happier with our bodies too. Just like you don’t have to look like you’re 20 years old forever, your tattoos don’t have to look like they’re fresh forever, and they won’t. That doesn’t mean they’re not worth having. And, on the flip side, if they change, in meaning or image, and you don’t like them anymore, that’s ok too–it’s possible to change them. So get the tattoo; feel the emotions and connections, experience the determination and healing that comes with them. Even if you end up wanting to change it later, being crippled by the permanence or perfectionism we often wrap into tattoos isn’t worth depriving ourselves of the benefits.

What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?

I know I’ve rambled on about coverups and supporting my clients a lot, but the reason I talk about them so much is because it is so easy to visibly see the change that I’m making in those scenarios. My coverup process is pretty lengthy, and involves multiple appointments over the course of a few months, many of which don’t even involve putting a needle to the skin. I require in-person consultations for all coverups, tattoo or scar, before we even schedule the tattoo appointment. This is to assess what the client wants, what’s possible, to walk them through the process and also take photos of what I’m covering so I can create a custom design to fit it exactly. Often, during these initial consultations, my clients come in feeling nervous or scared. They have something on their bodies they don’t feel comfortable showing someone else, which is why they want it covered in the first place, and I’m a stranger taking photos. They’re afraid I might judge them for it, or make it worse, and unfortunately, there are a lot of tattoo artists that would. When covering a tattoo, a client must trust in me; which is difficult to do when they’ve trusted another artist before me, and it didn’t work out for them. To help combat this feeling, the initial appointment is a low pressure environment that gives them the opportunity to ask questions, to show them I’m not just blowing hot air and that I actually know what I’m talking about. I often offer a second consultation before we even start any tattooing, where they come in to look at the design, again for a low-pressure environment where they can give me honest feedback and actually see what it is that they’ll be getting and how it fits over their old tattoo or scar. Then, by the time we get to their actual tattoo appointment, they haven’t felt forced into making a decision they weren’t ready for. What’s more, they are already somewhat familiar with me, and the stencil gives them an in-the-flesh visual of what to expect. The most beautiful part is when we finish; the relief, the joy, the emotion that so many people have when we’ve finished a coverup is a complete 180 from where they started, when they walked into the shop at the beginning. I’ve seen personalities blossom as my clients regain their confidence; I’ve had countless clients tell me they wear different clothes so they can show off the tattoo, when they’ve worn clothes that cover the same spot for years. I’ve had people reach out to me that when they look down at the spot where they used to only see self harm scars, they now feel love and support when looking at a flower or critter we created together. Empowering my clients to move forward and take up space, especially as so many of them are thoughtful, kind, joyful people, is one of the best things I could possibly do. It makes me feel like I’m making a difference, like I’m making the world a little bit more compassionate.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://izzybump.com/
• Instagram: @isabump
• Other: Substack Newsletter: https://isabump.substack.com/