Do you ever get impostor syndrome? If so, how do you feel better about it?
How do you deal with impostor syndrome with tattooing? I have to go through so much doubt within myself while tattooing. Thinking I’m not worth money or my tattoos aren’t good.
Image: a tiny pink frog sitting on a ceramic leaf, smiling attentively, with the caption “me reminding u of your inherent worth.”
Cutting to the chase, yes. I get impostor syndrome all the time. That may not be the answer either of you querents wanted to hear, and it may not be the most heartening response, but telling you it goes away after a certain number of years of tattooing (painting, writing, dancing, cooking) is simply untrue. That being said, it’s worth thinking more deeply about the term and how we use it.
The origins of “impostor syndrome” are gendered: originally “impostor phenomenon,” the term was employed by psychologists in the 70s to describe the feeling of “phoniness” high-achieving women experienced internally. Essentially, the study describes impostor phenomenon as a sense that your achievements are a result of luck, a fluke, or a fleeting effort rather than an innate skill or ability, aka: you’re faking the funk and everyone who thinks you’re doing great is a fool.
“Imposter syndrome is loosely defined as doubting your abilities and feeling like a fraud. It disproportionately affects high-achieving people, who find it difficult to accept their accomplishments. Many question whether they’re deserving of accolades.”
Ruchika Tulshyan and Jodi-Ann Burey point out that when the concept of impostor syndrome was created, “the impact of systemic racism, classism, xenophobia, and other biases was categorically absent.” The two describe the ways that what might otherwise be common concerns in a workplace (Am I doing well? Will my coworkers like me? Are my clients satisfied with their work?) are reinforced by discrimination and bias around race and gender. Tulshyan and Burey argue that the solution isn’t to fix your internal processes, but to create work environments that value and uplift a variety of leadership and work styles as well as diverse identities, countering the homogenous, racist and elitist ideas of professionalism that shape expectations of us today.
If we’re talking about tattooing specifically, I’d use the idea of “industry norms” more than “professionalism,” since the ways tattooing employs “professionalism” are complex and often different from office, school, and other contexts. Regardless, tackling what we describe as impostor syndrome involves sifting through and separating what’s us being hard on ourselves, and what’s other people or outside forces devaluing us. There’s a big difference between you seeing flaws in your own work and some troll annihilating your comment section because they think your style is an affront to American traditional tattooing.
Image: a gif of Dave Navarro on Ink Master asking “and you didn’t want that?”
I tend to think that tattooing has relied for a long time on the knowledge gap between artist and client. When artists monopolized information about the medium, clients had to trust them about quality, process and outcome rather than develop their own informed opinion. That’s not the case anymore! People see images of tattoos over and over and over again online; the average layperson can learn tattoo terminology and critique from mainstream television, and in general, clients are much more savvy than they’re given credit for. Clients have their own taste and critical ability and know when work is flawed, so when they choose to get work done by you, trust that.
Image: Frank Kline’s painting Mister, an abstract expressionist painting of graphic black brushstrokes on a white and grey background.
There’s also something to be said here about uncoupling our ideas of value and self-worth from judgment of work as “good.” That valuation is incredibly subjective, and when we’re talking about art, it’s impossible to define a singular standard of “good work.” Someone somewhere has without a doubt looked at Franz Kline’s paintings and said “my five year old could do that.” Personally, I feel like I’m going to throw up every time I stand in front of his work because the graphic blacks are so impactful and moving. Part of what makes tattooing so special is that there are infinite ways to be “good” at it—a tattooer’s lines might not be sharp or precise, but contain an energy that’s magnetic. Someone else might not generate new original designs but reproduce classic flash that’s flawless, like a copier printed it. Another tattoo might have a visible mistake in it, but still be beloved and have a great experience behind it.
A lot of advice about dealing with impostor syndrome doesn’t really hit for me because it can skew hyperbolic; I’m not trying to hype myself by telling myself I’m the GOAT because I don’t have any desire to be the greatest of all time at anything. Instead, I try to focus on what it is I can and want to be doing, and how I can do that particular thing better while also honoring what’s already there. A practice that helps me form a grounded sense of my own ability is looking at a spectrum of work in my field. If I’m only looking at absolute masters, it’s easy to doubt my ability and spiral. Looking at a whole range of experience levels, approaches, and styles (including my own!) helps me situate myself in a more realistic broad view of my ability and goals.
Look back at work you’re proud of. When I get down about my tattooing I look at pieces I’ve done and appreciate the things I like about them. As cringe-inducing as it can be to revisit my oldest portfolios, it’s also heartening to see not only improvement over the years, but also to be like “wow, my younger self had some cool out-there ideas that I wasn’t afraid to try.” I’m outing myself as fully corny and sentimental here, but I have a book—a physical book—where I print out emails, comments, Instagram DMs, and written thank-you notes from friends and strangers that made me feel affirmed and appreciated. Unsurprisingly, looking at that always helps get me out of a self-deprecating spell.
Image: a gif of DJ Kahled telling you “you a genius.”
My advice is to interrupt the downward spiral by rejecting what’s oppressive external noise and owning your own internal voice. Reframe what’s useful in the things you’re telling yourself (I’m dedicated to doing the best that I can and I’m always open to learning), be kind to yourself and let go of negative, overgeneralizing self-talk. Break out your reliable mood lifters (microdosing and going to bookstores? Herbal cigarettes and late-night decaf espresso?? Karaokeing Limp Bizkit’s classic anthem “Break Stuff”???), hit up the friend you know gives the best pep talks, and find your own version of looking in the mirror and saying wassup.
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My book, Could This Be Magic? Tattooing as Liberation Work is available via Afterlife Press.