I’ve tattooed my guitar. I don’t know what this means, quite, but I know it means something.
I bought this guitar, used, about a year and a half ago. It’s an inexpensive Yamaha nylon-string guitar I’ve become very fond of. As with my very first guitar (visible in the background of this picture), this a was a case of love at first sight in a pawn shop. I’ve learned to trust that feeling.
In fact, this new, used cheapie is the guitar I most love to play now, one that’s helped rekindle my passion for guitar after many years of focusing more on ukulele.
So for the past year, I’ve been gradually, and very shyly, coaxing this guitar onto the stage for certain gigs.
You get these feelings sometimes, like your work could so easily veer into a rut.
When that happens you sometimes have to shake things up a little.
Like, say, two hours before you’re about to go on stage with a guitar you’re shy about playing in public in the first place… and all you have is a permanent marker and a weird whim.
That’s how I started doodling on my guitar. A week later, after four sessions of following the tip of the pen where it led me, I wound up with the guitar tattoo you see here.
There’s some pretty strong energy in this image, and it seems to have done the trick. The gig was great. The guitar is alive with songs and full of rich, sensual vibes. It was already a good writing guitar. It’s going to be a great one now.
And despite confidence issues when it comes to drawing, I managed to let something happen that I really like.
I wonder how a tattoo like that might look on my own skin?
I’ve been looking for the right image for years.
Maybe there’s one lurking within, and all I need to do is let it flow out—like a felt pen across the face of a beloved guitar.