The decision to get a tattoo is not one to be taken lightly—the design is permanent, after all. And choosing a shop that aligns with your vision and comfort level is half the battle. Whether you’re itching to add to your ink collection or are a first-timer wondering where to begin, we’ve got you covered with this mini rundown of great local tattoo shops.

Fruit Camp
Art is celebrated in more than one way at this Remington studio. The first floor, an open space washed in natural light, is a tattoo parlor, while the second floor houses private studio space for artists across various disciplines. Inclusivity and accessibility are fundamental to this shop. Operating as a collective, Fruit Camp’s artists freely work within their own style, their own schedule, and their own rate structure. 2656 Miles Ave., fruitcamptattoo@gmail.com

Love Struck Tattoo
Bright, colorful, and filled with lush plants, Annapolis’ Love Struck Tattoo is a uniquely inviting space. The crew of artists is known for being friendly and collaborative. Each artist here handles their own booking and design process with wide-ranging styles, including traditional, realism, and ornamental. The studio also has a resident cosmetic tattoo artist and accepts tattoo party bookings for you and your besties (Champagne and free touch-ups for a year after service included). 29 Maryland Ave., Annapolis, 301-578-6891

Stay Humble Tattoo Company
If you’ve strolled Hamden’s 36th Street, chances are you likely caught a glimpse of the iconic “Stay Humble Baltimore” mural on Chestnut. Inside and up the stairs, you’ll walk into a tattoo shop that feels a bit like the city itself: somewhat small, but bursting with personality. Ditto for the talent—while Stay Humble leans more into classic tattoo styles, each artist brings their own flair to the table. 801 W. 36th St,, 410-235-1234

Black Lotus Tattoo
The full-service Black Lotus is known for its award-winning artist roster and streamlined services. The emphasis is on the art, so there’s no pre-drawn flash to opt for. The shop also offers piercing services as well as tattoo removal through trans epidermal pigment release, a less invasive alternative to lasers. And word to the wise: Bookings, managed by the shop, fill up quickly. 7466 New Ridge Road, Suite 22, Hanover, 410-487-6675

With tattoo styles ranging from cartoon characters to Japanese-themed dragons, the city of Baltimore has much to offer when deciding your next tattoo and who to choose. This city with a history of the tattoo art form brings collectors and artists from across the country. The array of local artists describe themselves as nothing short of supportive for each other’s craft and creativity.

As the Baltimore Tattoo Arts Convention arrives this weekend, we sat down with some of Baltimore’s best to discuss their styles and tattoo inspiration.

Samantha Compasso
Saints and Sinners
Style: Floral illustrative and neo-traditional
On finding her style: “Being so new to tattooing I feel like i’m still finding a style. Everything I do changes dramatically within six months. It may not look that way to an outside perspective but to me, I can see when I fine tune specific parts of what my style fits into. But at the same time, I do try branch out. Every now and then I’ll do something thats traditional or gothic and darker than what I am used to. When you do stuff like that, you really do grow as an artist.”

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Allisin Riot
Athens Tattoo Company
Style: New school
On the coolest tattoo: “This girl—who is actually my good friend now—had a sleeve of just really badly home done tattoos—really bad line work, really scarred up. She felt ashamed to wear short sleeves, anything that showed her arms. So, came at me with this huge task of covering and reworking everything that she had and I was scared shitless to tell you the truth. We worked together, we found something that would be great, and covered up her whole arm to where she is so proud of her arm. She wears short sleeves all the time. It was a cool way to change someone’s life and let them be happy in their skin when they thought all hope was lost.”

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Nicky Arsenik
Lucky Bird Tattoo
Style: Realism
On his biggest challenge: “One of the things I have struggled with tattooing is feeling that I wasn’t like everybody else. I have a bunch of artists that I look up to and they all look similar. I would try to aspire to be like them but i could never completely emulate their style. It would always end up looking like my work which actually ends up being a good thing that it’s okay to be different. I’m my own person and I have my style and people come to me for that specific reason. It’s not really any sort of pressure, I just do what I know I can do and people appreciate me for that.”

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Dave Wah
Stay Humble Tattoo Company
Style: Traditional
On tattooing in Baltimore: “In the city, you are going to get a wider range of subject matters that people want. If you’re dealing with a small town, a lot of times the stuff will be a little more simplified that they’re looking to get done. It’s a very small community—there’s not a lot of tattooers in Baltimore when compared to other major cities. There’s definitely a mutual respect between everybody.”

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Monica Amneus
Saguaro Tattoo
Style: Neo-Traditional, illustrative
On her inspiration: “I have always been someone who has done a lot of research for any of my work, both illustration and tattooing. I tend to draw inspiration from a lot of literature, folk tales, and movies. I like diving into one specific movie or story and finding little hidden work, like the underground things of whatever that is to try and incorporate it. I tend to collect a lot of ideas and references from pop culture and storytelling.”

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Casey Hart
Diamond Dagger
Style: Mandala
On the scene’s evolution: “I think the industry itself has grown into a community. I don’t think it used to be. You wouldn’t describe the word community back in the day. It used to be kind of pirate-y and very territorial. Whatever the guy across the street is doing, you have to do better than him. It was very much like you wouldn’t visit other shops. That was unheard of. But now it’s gotten to a point, where we’re kind of all sticking together and supporting each other because there’s such a huge demand.”

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Alex Doucette
Have Fun Be Lucky Tattoos
Style: Traditional
On having an open mind: “I noticed that, since I’ve moved down to Baltimore, I’ve gotten a different type of clientele. Whenever you’re in a major city, people take tattooing a lot more seriously. There are more collectors. There’s more people who will seek out tattooers because they like their art, rather than just getting tattooed by the next person available. People are more open to my style or getting something that I’m suggesting.”

Buzzing tattoo guns, the sterile smell of antiseptic, and the smiling face of Beth Cutlip welcome customers through the doors of Brooklyn Park’s Southside Tattoo shop.

Southside Tattoo, once identified by the panther painted on the outside of the shop, is now making headlines for its free tattoo cover-up sessions. But these aren’t just any tattoos. This small, local tattoo shop has recently decided to provide the complimentary service to conceal racist or gang-related ink.

“I’m averaging about 75-150 messages a day of people that want free cover-ups,” explains Southside owner Dave Cutlip. “I actually have a folder of things that people have asked for that they want to pay for that way they can donate to the cause, which is cool.”

Dave and his wife, Beth, see their mission as a way to give people a second chance. It has since attracted news outlets from People magazine to Al Jazeera. But this was not always the norm for this South Baltimore tattoo shop. It all began with a single Facebook post on January 16.

“Sometimes people make bad choices, and sometimes people change. We, at Southside Tattoo would like to make a difference. If you, or someone you know has a tattoo that is GANG or RACIST related, and you want it covered… WE WILL COVER IT FOR FREE. No questions asked. We believe that there is enough hate in this world and we want to make a difference. Please call the shop and set up a consultation with any of our artist.”

The message was prompted by a man wanting to cover gang tattoos on his face. Once incarcerated and now working as an electrician, he was still encountering problems due to his tattoos, according to Beth. “He said, ‘People follow me around their house while I’m trying to fix things,’” says Beth. “I told him you can’t cover a dime with a dime. You will just have bigger facial tattoos. I’m sorry you need to go get laser removal.”

That man and his story stuck with Beth. She felt bad that she couldn’t help him, so she came up with the idea for the “Random Acts of Tattoo” project, the subsequent Facebook post, and the viral fame.

“People are making changes in their life and are still being criticized for the mistakes they made,” says Beth. “It wasn’t a marketing strategy—we wanted to give back to the community.”

But qualifying what exactly is a racist tattoo is as complicated as the issue itself.

“We aren’t covering confederate flags,” says Beth. “We did the one because it had a noose on it. Most people get those confederate flags for Southern pride.”

The selection process for the free cover-ups is a rigorous one for the Cutlips. “You would not believe how many racist tattoos are walking around America right now,” says Beth, as she pulls out a photo of a forearm with a portrait of Hitler on it. Not surprisingly, Southside sets priority for people with tattoos on their face, neck, hand, and lower arm.

According to Dave, a typical cover-up session can run anywhere between five to seven hours for large pieces, and at $100 an hour, the service holds a hefty price tag. So the Cutlips do their research before selecting a client.

“Part of the consultation is that I talk to them to make sure they’re done with it,” says Dave. “I’m not going to cover up something just so you can go and paint ‘I hate Jews’ on something later. I’m not going to help you. I’m not going to be a part of any of that. “

Since January, the shop has been flush with business and overrun with media outlets from around the world fighting to get the inside scoop. But Dave and Beth don’t care too much about the fame. “I like to keep the focus on the people that we’re helping,” says Beth. “It needs to be about the positive improvements these people are making.”

Take Randy Sturgill, a 28-year-old Louisiana native, who was convicted of armed bank robbery almost a decade ago and was sentenced to eight years in Angola State Prison—the nation’s largest maximum-security prison. While in prison, he committed a murder that landed him in solitary confinement for 18 months. Once he got out, a particular group of people approached him.

“When I came out of the hole, the Aryan Brotherhood was like, ‘We want you on our team,’” says Sturgill about the white supremacist gang. “It’s blood in, blood out. In order to join, you have to kill. I met the quota.”

Sturgill rose high in the ranks and collected numerous tattoos as evidence. “When I got locked up, I didn’t have any tattoos,” he says. These days he’s covered in them—cobwebs on his face, full sleeves on both arms, and a host of tattoos on his torso and back. He’s lost track of his total tattoo count, but could identify that at least nine are gang-related or racist. But getting them removed is part of a larger life change.

“I quit doing drugs. I stopped selling drugs. I try not to fight anymore,” he explains. “It’s just something I had to do. And getting these tattoos covered puts a period on that chapter of my life.”

Sturgill, who lives in West Baltimore, found out about Southside Tattoo through a counselor at Health Care for the Homeless—a Baltimore-based organization working to end homelessness in the state. His counselor called Dave and shared his story.

“She said, ‘Hey I have a guy for you,’” Dave recalls. Because he was living in Baltimore now, we absolutely wanted to help him first.”

So far, Dave has already covered one of Sturgill’s gang tattoos: four stars representing his ranking in the gang down the length of his neck. The stars are no longer visible—it’s like they were never there. In their place is a bird in flight.

“It’s a sparrow,” says Sturgill. “It represents new beginnings.”

And now Sturgill is seeing Dave for his next cover-up—an iron cross surrounded by several small racist symbols (including a tiny swastika). As Dave starts sketching a stencil for the latest cover up, Sturgill explains how the tattoos never really reflected his personal beliefs.

“I’m not racist at all! I live with a black family. My godson is black,” he explains. “He’s 3 and doesn’t know what any of it means now. But I don’t want him to grow up and say, ‘Uncle Randy doesn’t like black people.’”

Southside’s cover-up work is quite literal—there is no laser removal but, instead, Dave shades over the existing tattoo to create something new entirely. And Sturgill has even started helping him with the work.

“What I know is from Randy,” says Dave, as he consults with Sturgill about whether a recent tattoo submission is indeed gang related. “He’s helped me out a lot, man.”

In fact, Dave has taken Sturgill with plans to make him a tattoo artist within the year.

“Dave has helped me with tattooing,” Sturgill explains. “I want to do what they do. I want to help out other people like me, like Dave and Beth are doing.”

The Cutlips have completed several cover-ups and show no signs of slowing down. The ultimate plan is to take this project across the country. Beth started a GoFundMe page to raise money for those individuals like the man that came into the shop—who started all of this—and couldn’t afford a cover-up. So far, they have raised over $14,000 with a goal of $60,000.

Amidst all the chaos of newfound fame and clients, Dave—the self-proclaimed funny guy—boils down his complex work into a really simple few words.

“It’s fun. I love tattooing,” he says. “All I ever wanted to do is help Baltimore.”

What is it about chefs and tattoos? For these top toques, getting ink—and we’re not talking squid—is up there with learning the five basic sauces. Historically, tattoos have always factored into kitchen culture, says former Top Chef contestant Jesse Sandlin. “Before the day and age of celebrity chefs, kitchens used to have this ragtag pirate ship-type of mentality,” she says. “You didn’t have to look a certain way, because you weren’t in the public eye. Just as we express ourselves through the food that we serve, it’s another avenue of self-expression.”

For some chefs, body art is the ultimate fashion statement. “I wanted something that was well done and visually beautiful, an artistic piece created for me to have indefinitely and exclusively,” says La Cakerie’s Jason Hisley, whose sprawling chest piece features cupcakes, cinnamon sticks, wheat sheaths, and a slice of rainbow cake. “My chest piece is literally like my favorite shirt.”

We checked in with Sandlin and Hisley and other area chefs who don’t mind flashing a little flesh in the name of art.

Jesse Sandlin

Director of culinary operations, Mama’s Group

Tat Total: I have too many to count. (She guesstimates about 30.) Tale of the Tat: I’m really into pirate culture. In the olden days, when sailors went on ships, they would take pigs and chickens and livestock and pack them onboard in a wooden crate. That way, if they ever ran aground, the crate would keep them afloat, and they could have food if they were ever shipwrecked. In the Flesh: I got [the pig and rooster] tattoos in Las Vegas after I was kicked off Top Chef. I felt very underwater at the time. It was very cathartic.

Josh Hershkovitz

Co-owner/executive chef, Hersh’s Pizza

Tat Total: 4 Tale of the Tat: I was looking to do something food-related not long after getting engaged to my wife. I like the old sailor tattoos with the flaming heart that says “Mom.” I put Lena’s name on it with the pizza, because pizza and my wife are two of my favorite things. In the Flesh: Before I had it done, I called Lena from Little Vinnie’s Tattoos in Finksburg and said, “I’m calling to check. When I asked you to marry me, you said, ‘yes,’ right?”

Jason Hisley

Owner/executive chef, La Cakerie

Tat Total: 20-plus Tale of the Tat: Ever since I was a little kid, my life has revolved around pastries and baking. My grandmother was a baker from Czechoslovakia. Baking has always been in my life, and I knew I wanted to pursue it as a career. I wanted to do a tattoo that related to my career. Having ‘Life is Sweet’ across my chest sums up my view on life as a whole. Yes, it’s about sugar and baked goods, but it’s also my attitude toward life. In the Flesh: I knew I wanted a crossed chef’s knife and whisk, because those are my daily tools—they are like my hands in the kitchen. Then I wanted things that were visually striking and fun, from ingredients to baked goods. I wanted cupcakes because my whole career as a pastry chef spiraled out of control when I won first place on the Food Network’s Cupcake Wars. I wanted the slice of rainbow cake, because I’m gay and it’s a nod to who I am as a person and also very Baltimore. I thought that I was only going to get the knife and the whisk, but then it became an addiction.

Travis Marley

Executive pastry chef, Pazo, Petit Louis Bistro, Johnny’s

Tat Total: 9 Tale of the Tat: I got my first tattoo at Vodou Tattoos in Pasadena. I was 17 and it was a graduation gift from Kent Island High School. I’m from the Eastern Shore and have always wanted to have nautical stars, which are also a symbol that sailors used to identify points on a map. My parents are super important to me and have always been my guiding source. In the Flesh: Getting tattooed is painful, but it’s also spiritual for me. Finding a way to channel the pain is a form of meditation.

Olivia Lewis

Line cook, Linwoods

Tat Total: 11 Tale of the Tat: My father’s side is Russian and Irish, so I have this beautiful matryoshka nesting doll; and my mother’s side is Thai, so I have an elephant, which is considered sacred in Thailand. It was important to me that these tats be meaningful. In the Flesh: I had these done in North Hollywood, CA. I knew I wanted something related to my heritage. The tattoo artist threw out a few ideas, and these were the ones I loved the most.

Karin Fuller Tiffany

Co-owner/executive chef, Peter’s Inn

Tat Total: 10 Tale of the Tat: I got my first tattoo—a pig; yes, a pig—when I was 19 in Bangor, ME, when I was in the Coast Guard. All my CG friends were getting them, and it sounded cool. Then I got my first food-related tattoo when I was 27 at Little Vinnie’s —a sacred heart with a whisk. At the time, I thought I was a true original, but not for long. In the Flesh: My only advice on getting tattooed is to remember that they are permanent, and other people either love or despise them. Being a chef somehow exempts me from too much judgment. I’m B.O.H. [back of the house], and it’s a gnarly job.

Ted Stelzenmuller

Co-owner/executive chef, Jack’s Bistro

Tat Total: 18 Tale of the Tat: My tattoos are all related to my profession and travels across the world. I got my first tattoo from Seth Ciferri, former owner of Baltimore’s Read Street Tattoo Parlour, who now lives in Portland and is a world-recognized tattoo machine builder. This tattoo represents the time my wife and I spent in Madrid. It’s done in the style of a watercolor painting. The bull next to the matador is from the flag of the Azores islands to represent Portugal. In the Flesh: Go see Matt Rinks at Ghost Town tattoo shop in Ellicott City. He is a wonderful person and a great artist with a keen eye for composition whom I trust entirely with forever altering my skin.

Dylan Salmon

Owner/shucker, Dylan’s Oyster Cellar

Tat Total: 1 Tale of the Tat: I’m an artist and had drawn a bunch of different tattoo ideas over the years. Then about three years ago—I was 27, 28—I just got up one morning and did it. I was feeling a little down that day and needed a pick-me-up. But it was right around the same time I started really getting into oysters, so I thought what better way to remind myself every day about why I’m doing this. It’s a drawing of my favorite kind of oyster knife and a California oyster, similar to a Kumamoto. At that point, I had just discovered that there were all these other kinds of exotic oysters beyond local bay oysters and I was stoked. In the Flesh: Just make sure you really want to keep it on you forever. At this point, I rarely notice mine, but when I hold my knife in my left hand, I’m literally wearing my oyster badge on my sleeve.

Melanie Molinaro

Former executive chef, Encantada

Tat Total: 5 Tale of the Tat: When I was younger, I always thought tattoos were so cool, so I couldn’t wait ’til I was old enough to start getting tattoos. I got my first tattoo when I was 18. It was a rose with the word forza under it, which means pride. I’m Italian, so I wanted something that I was going to be proud of. Since then, most of my kitchen tattoos are to commemorate the restaurants I’ve worked at. The pig is for Birroteca, since their mascot is a wild boar. I plan on getting a radish for Encantada. In the Flesh: Start small and build your collection. I think of tattoos as a body of artwork. It’s cool that you can see the transitions in my life because they are on my skin.

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Q&A: Needle Man

Tattoo artist Hunter Spanks talks tats—and heirloom veggies.

Hunter Spanks’s first tattoo was a cobra he tattooed on his own thigh at age 15. These days, he practices his art form at Hampden’s Have Fun Be Lucky Tattoo, where he tattoos everyone from chefs (including Jason Hisley’s tats) to corporate types. While he was tattooing Technicolor hamsas, lotus flowers, and an elephant on a client, we sat down with Spanks to get insider info on his ink work. “Why do people get tattooed?” he mused. “I have no idea. It’s just fun and silly. Some people give it way too much thought. It’s an art form being put on a dying canvas.”

How many people have you tattooed through the years?
The business has really changed a lot. The first five years, I averaged 120 to 150 tattoos a month. But these days, things have changed. Everything is customized. Now I do anywhere between two to four a day.

Why do so many chefs, in particular, get tattooed?
Generally, you’re not seen by the public, so no one cares. Tattoos are becoming more commonplace for chefs. It started because the boss didn’t care whether the [kitchen staff] got tattooed or not.

What kinds of things have you tattooed on chefs?
I’ve tattooed everything from a pig to hot dogs and hamburgers. I’ve also done a lot of fruit like apples and oranges and vegetables. I just tattooed a chef the other week who wanted heirloom vegetables.

Are there any do’s and don’ts?
If you’re so drunk that you can’t stand up, you’re not going to sit still for a tattoo, so that’s not going to work for me. But if a couple of drinks is going to relax you, I encourage it.

What about getting the name of a current love interest. Is that a no-no?
After tattooing for 25 years, I’m not your parents. That girl whose name you want tattooed on you might be with you in the future or she might not be. I’m going to tattoo you because, hell, when you got it, you had a good time, and when she breaks up with you, you’re going to spend a shitload of money getting it covered up.

Blaze Starr stares seductively from an 8-x-10 autographed glossy in the corner of his “office,” as tattoo artist Vinnie Myers readies for his morning client. He lays out his tattoo machines, surveys possible pigments based on his client’s request, and opens a cabinet drawer to check on his stock of single-use sterilized, disposable needles (some for shading, some for lining) needed to get the job done.

Time was, there was nothing as inspiring as a virgin stretch of skin awaiting one of his “tat” tableaus: be it a pin-up-girl “sleeve,” an intricate crucifix running down an arm, a Technicolor butterfly spanning across a back, or a Chinese character delicately rendered on an ankle. But these days, Myers has narrowed the subject of his artistry to a single source of inspiration: nipples.

From Baltimore and Philadelphia to Saudi Arabia and Brazil, Myers, owner of Little Vinnies Tattoos—located along a busy stretch of Route 140 in Finksburg—has become internationally renowned for his 3-D-like nipple and areola tattoos for breast-cancer survivors (both women and men), who, most commonly, lose their nipples when the breast is removed during a mastectomy (and, despite reconstruction work, often are left with no nipples).

Twenty-one years ago, Myers was just another tattoo artist with talent. Then, in 2001, came a call from Lutherville-based plastic surgeon Adam Basner, who contacted Myers about the prospect of doing nipple tattoos for his reconstructive patients. Back then, Basner—like many plastic surgeons—was doing the tattoo work himself. “I quickly realized, I was pretty good at the surgery and not all that good at the tattoos,” recounts Basner. “It dawned on me, ‘Why not get someone who knows what they’re doing?’”

Similarly, Myers saw the potential after tattooing one of Basner’s patients. “I thought, ‘This could be something,’” says Myers, 50. “I thought there could a dramatic effect for these women.”

Ever since, Myers has done thousands of tattoos and works extensively with The Johns Hopkins Breast Center and The Center for Restorative Breast Surgery and St. Charles Surgical Hospital in New Orleans. Scott Sullivan, a plastic surgeon at The Center for Restorative Breast Surgery, who works with Myers, has the highest of praise.

“He is the da Vinci of nipple tattoos,” says Sullivan. “His work is so fine, and so detailed. I haven’t seen anything like it before. His contribution to women who have had breast reconstruction is as important as anything we do as doctors.”

Lillie Shockney, a two-time breast-cancer survivor herself and administrative director of The Johns Hopkins Breast Center, found out about Myers from a patient nearly three years ago.

“When I met her, she was trying to decide if she wanted nipple reconstruction or [tattoos],” recalls Shockney. “When I saw her several months later [post-surgery], I looked at her and said, ‘Oh, you decided to save your nipples and areola,’ and she said, ‘No.’ And I said, ‘But I’m looking at them.’ And she said, ‘Vinnie.’ And I said, ‘What’s a Vinnie?’”

Shockney was so inspired by her patient’s outcome, she decided to pay a visit to Myers for professional reasons (to refer patients if she liked what she saw) and for a very personal one (to get tattooed). “When I looked in the mirror after he was done, my jaw dropped open,” she recalls.

These days, Shockney is a walking advertisement for Little Vinnies. “I take off my clothes [at Hopkins Breast Center] every day,” says Shockney. “I see women who are very distraught . . . you see that shattered look in their faces. I say, ‘Let me give you an idea of what we’re talking about. This is breast reconstruction. These are tattoos.’ . . . And they look at me like I’m a mirage. I show the patient what we can do to give her a Memorex version of what she’s lost—and how Vinnie achieves that.”

While any cancer is overwhelming, what breast-cancer survivors endure can seem Sisyphean—from the initial diagnosis, to the multitude of choices in treatment, to the reconstruction, which most often involves multiple surgeries. And while surviving is the first step, experts say, it’s the reconstruction work that can help the emotional healing.

“To hear that you have breast cancer is devastating,” says Basner. “For women to also hear that they are going to be disfigured and lose a part of their femininity is a double whammy. Reconstruction becomes an important step in getting people to feel better.”

With more than 200,000 women diagnosed with breast cancer each year in the United States (according to the most recent figures in 2008 by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention), there is no lack of clients for Myers, who is booked up to three months in advance and charges $400 for both unilateral and bilateral tattoos (most often covered by insurance).

One such client is Federal Hill-resident Debra Nelson, who was diagnosed with Ductal Carcinoma In Situ (DCIS) in August of 2009. Sitting in her home, Nelson tears up as she tells her story that includes multiple surgeries, a unilateral mastectomy, reconstruction, and a nipple graft. But even with the graft, Nelson was without an areola and the Montgomery glands that surround the nipple, so she decided to have Myers do a tattoo.

Several days after her visit to Vinnies, Nelson caught her own reflection in a medicine-cabinet mirror. “The sun was coming in from behind,” Nelson recalls, “and I looked at myself and thought, ‘Oh my God, I’m like normal.’” For Nelson, who says she “still grieves” the loss of her breast, Myers’s work has helped her heal. “Vinnie is an artist through and through,” she says. “He gives you everything he has as an artist and what he has in his heart.” And though Nelson never saw herself as the tattoo type, she was so inspired by Myers’s work she decided to get a Monarch butterfly tattoo as a symbol of her metamorphosis.

Early on, Myers knew that his art had the power to be transformative. “I definitely saw in the women a feeling of relief to be finished with the whole thing,” says Myers. “You get up every day, you look in the mirror, and you don’t have any nipples. The perfectly reconstructed breast is still not a breast [until it has] a nipple. It’s the finishing touch. It makes them feel whole again.”

If Myers sounds like an insider, that’s because he is. Several years ago, when his younger sister was diagnosed with breast cancer, it gave Myers a new outlook on his work. “It just struck very close to home,” says Myers. “By that time, I was already so busy with this, I made my decision to just do nipple tattoos. I’m not dealing with the radiation and the mastectomy and the healing and the scars and the wounds. I’m the last person they are going to see in this whole thing. It’s great to be that guy.”

Because it is the end of a journey that can sometimes play out over the course of many years, for many survivors, a visit to Little Vinnies is a pilgrimage of sorts. “It’s the crowning jewel to the process,” says Richie France, Little Vinnies receptionist. “Most of the women have a pretty good outlook on life by the time they get to us because they beat cancer. This is the last step in their process of healing, and they are pretty excited about it.”

Annette, who didn’t want her last name used, and her husband, Bill, just flew from South Florida to see Myers. Annette (one of approximately 15 clients Myers will see this week) is a petite 49-year-old who was diagnosed with DCIS in December 2010, had a bilateral mastectomy on January 22, 2011 (“You never forget the date,” she says), and subsequent reconstructive surgery, including a failed nipple reconstruction.

“There are two things in life I always said I would never do,” says Annette, laughing. “One was get implants and the second was get a tattoo. You know the old saying, ‘Never say never. . . . ’”

While Annette was thrilled to have a clean bill of health and an excellent reconstructive result, she was unhappy with the tattoo work performed by her plastic surgeon. “My doctor was a great plastic surgeon,” she says, “but I was less happy with the nipple part of it.”

Through a “care coach” at South Florida Baptist Hospital, Annette learned about Myers. “I saw his website,” she says, “and I thought, ‘I’m just going to go for this.’” After her initial conversation with Myers, Annette and Bill shared some laughs. “Over the phone, I remember [Myers] said to me, ‘Can you take a picture of your breasts in natural light and then e-mail them to me?’” she recalls. “My husband was like, ‘A picture? Natural light? The Internet? Hmm. . . .’”

Now, standing amidst a profusion of pink ribbons and a book called Anatomy for the Artist, Annette’s concerns are allayed. Recounts Myers, “A while ago, a lady came in and was really nervous. She said, ‘I don’t need that skull staring at me,’ so I re-did my office and added the breast-cancer awareness stuff, but I also wanted to keep it a little bit edgy. I didn’t want it to be too soft, and I didn’t want it to be too clinical. It’s a tattoo shop.”

After giving Myers her medical history, Annette unbuttons her blouse. “Here we go,” she says, sighing deeply.

Myers looks at Annette’s already extant tattoos, which he concurs, have too many orange tones. “My main concern is that you are going to have to go darker or the colors that are there are going to come through,” he says.

In his stylish porkpie hat, crisp button-down shirt, and suede shoes, Myers hardly fits the stereotype of a tattoo artist. “I started dressing like this all the time when I started doing breast-cancer tattoos,” he says. “You don’t want to come in looking like a slouch.”

But he does, in fact, have a trail of tattoos that runs up his arms, down his legs, and across his back that most clients don’t see. “My wife and I have an agreement that until our kids are out of school, I wouldn’t tattoo my forearms,” says the father of four.

Growing up as one of six in the Woodlawn area of Baltimore, Myers admits that when it came to academics, he was a bit of a laggard. “I wasn’t very good in school,” he says, “but I always had an affinity for art and drew a lot of tattoo-style art.”

After graduating from Milford Mill High School in 1980, Myers became a medic in the Army. While stationed in South Korea, he got his first taste of tattoos. “One of my roommates was extensively tattooed,” recalls Myers. “I drew a set of Harley[-Davidson] wings on his forearm with magic markers and showed him some of my art, and he was like, ‘Dude, you should become a tattoo artist.’ We set up some primitive tattoo equipment that was homemade, and I started tattooing.”

Back in Baltimore after his tour of duty, Myers took up tattooing. In 1991, he opened Little Vinnies along Main Street in Westminster (before moving to Finksburg eight years later), and he learned on the job. “Back then, you couldn’t get an apprenticeship with anyone,” says Myers. “They weren’t giving out secrets. At the time, the industry was just coming into its own.”

As part of his education, Myers traveled all over the world—the South Pacific, Europe, Central America—to attend tattoo conventions and joined an upper-echelon of artists, including Leo Zulueta (known as “the father of the modern tribal tattoo”) and Ed Hardy (a tattoo artist whose designs are now used on clothing), who is a friend. Along the way, Myers’s claim to fame was his reinvention of traditional “flash designs” (designs printed on paper for mass production, often exhibited in street shops).

“There were people doing custom design at the time,” says Myers, “but very few were doing their own version of flash design. It was a modern design on the old-school stuff. It could be a flag or an eagle, but with more of a twist and not as simple as American designs. Tattooing became more artistic. We were able to push the envelope of what could be done.”

As he revises Annette’s tattoo, Myers approaches his work like a Renaissance master. The challenge, in this case, is to blend the color and conceal the scarring. “It’s just Illustration 101,” says Myers, who also does illustration work for Under Armour. “With highlight and shadows, you just have to make it look real. That’s the name of the game. I can’t understand why no one gave it an effort to look real in the past. You don’t just do a bunch of dots and hope that it looks like a nipple.”

An hour or so (and seven pigments) later, Myers’s work is done, and Annette is beaming.

“I’m thrilled,” she says. And while his clients are the ones visibly transformed by his work, Myers has evolved as well. “At one point, I remember saying, I didn’t know if tattooing would be the career for me forever. I didn’t know what the mission was for me, but when this came about, it made me think that this was the reason why it came together the way that it did.”

As Annette gazes from her reflection in the mirror to Myers, she can’t contain her excitement. “I love you,” says Annette, now giddy with glee.

“I hate to say it,” says her husband, Bill. “But I think he gets that a lot.”