Etched in Flesh, Written in Time

Article/Essay Feature

Etched in Flesh, Written in Time
Brandon Garic Notch on the Discipline, Impermanence, and Art of Tattooing

Tattooing is one of the oldest and most enduring art forms in human history, yet it is often underestimated—dismissed as decoration, rebellion, or fashion. But for those who practice the craft, tattooing is far more than skin deep. It is an art of precision and patience, discipline and empathy, permanence and impermanence.
Consider the scope of a single large tattoo—a back piece, for instance. Such a project can require more than a hundred hours of concentrated labor, stretched across weeks or months. Every stroke of the machine is permanent, every decision irreversible. The artist must balance technical skill with creative vision, shaping a piece of work that will accompany the client for a lifetime.
And yet, permanence is only part of the story. Over time, tattoos fade. Skin shifts. Bodies age. What once was crisp becomes softened, blurred, or transformed. In this way, tattooing reflects the very nature of existence: nothing lasts forever. The practice echoes the traditions of Tibetan monks who create elaborate sand mandalas, only to dismantle them after completion as a meditation on impermanence. The tattoo may outlast the mandala, but both remind us of the same truth—that beauty is temporary, and its value lies as much in the act of creation as in its longevity.
But tattooing is unlike any other visual art. Painters, sculptors, and designers often work in solitude, at their own pace, shielded from outside pressure. Tattoo artists do not have that luxury. Their work is performed live, in public, with an audience—sometimes small, sometimes large—watching every movement. The client is not a passive canvas but an active participant, enduring pain and sometimes voicing their discomfort. The artist must remain calm and composed, simultaneously executing with precision and managing the client’s physical and emotional experience.
This dual responsibility transforms tattooing into something closer to performance art. Every appointment is a live act of creation under pressure, where hesitation is not an option and discipline is everything. A tattoo artist cannot pause and wait for inspiration. They must commit, adapt, and execute within the moment.
At the heart of tattooing lies a delicate balance of opposites. It is permanent, yet impermanent. It is solitary in its focus, yet collaborative by necessity. It is painful, yet healing. It is intimate, yet public. And in this balance, tattooing becomes more than an art form—it becomes a meditation in action, a practice that forces both artist and client to confront beauty, impermanence, and the passage of time.
For the tattoo artist, each piece is not just ink on skin but a moment of discipline, empathy, and connection. And for the client, it is a lasting reminder—etched in flesh—that art and life are inseparable.

Etched in Flesh, Written in Time
Brandon Garic Notch on the Discipline, Impermanence, and Art of Tattooing

“Tattooing isn’t just a craft—it’s a performance, a meditation, and a ritual. It’s not something I do. It’s something I live.”

The Paradox of Permanence
Spend a hundred hours on a back piece and you’re etching more than just ink into skin—you’re embedding a story, a ritual, a piece of yourself into another human being. For tattoo artist, actor, and storyteller Brandon Garic Notch, that permanence carries both gravity and humility.
“I love the fact that you can put more than a hundred hours into a detailed back piece,” he says. “It will live with someone for the rest of their life. And yet, it won’t last forever. Skin changes. Time fades. Eventually, even the deepest ink disappears.”
This paradox is what fascinates him: permanence and impermanence woven together in the same act.
Notch often compares the process to Tibetan monks who spend days creating intricate mandalas from colored sand, only to sweep them away. The ritual teaches that nothing lasts forever. Tattooing, though longer lived, carries the same lesson: beauty is fleeting, and its value lies not just in how long it lasts, but in what it means in the moment.

Lessons from the Mandala

Tattooing and sand mandalas both embody impermanence.
The act of creation matters as much as the finished product.
Change is inevitable—skin ages, ink fades, beauty transforms.

Creation Under Pressure
Unlike painting in the privacy of a studio, tattooing happens under bright lights, buzzing machines, and often curious eyes. It is art performed live, in real time, with a living canvas who feels every second of the process.
“There’s no room to say, ‘I don’t know,’” Notch explains. “Once the machine buzzes to life, you have to commit. Tattooing demands absolute presence.”
That presence is not optional. Clients squirm. They complain. They curse the pain. Yet the artist must remain steady, calm, and precise. Each line must be right the first time. Each decision must be final.
It is pressure, but it is also performance. Like an actor on stage or a musician on tour, the tattoo artist creates under watchful eyes, responding to energy in the room while never breaking focus on the craft.

“Tattooing is live art. You don’t get a second canvas. Every stroke counts.”

Earned Through Endurance
For Notch, part of what makes tattooing so meaningful is that tattoos must be earned. Unlike buying a painting or a sculpture, you can’t simply hand over money and walk away with art.
“You have to endure it,” he says. “The pain, the discomfort—it’s all part of the process. You don’t just buy a tattoo; you earn it. You sit through hours of work, you grit your teeth, and you carry it through the weeks of healing afterward.”
That struggle creates value. The tattoo becomes more than an image—it becomes proof of endurance, a testament to resilience. The pain itself becomes part of the art, binding the wearer to the design in a way no other medium can.

“You don’t just buy a tattoo—you earn it.”
Every tattoo is a collaboration between artist and client, ink and endurance, pain and permanence.

The Artist and the Client
Tattooing, at its core, is collaboration. The artist brings vision, discipline, and technique; the client brings trust, endurance, and their own story. The process is as much about the bond created in the chair as it is about the art itself.
“It’s raw. It’s intimate. It’s difficult,” Notch says. “Tattooing humbles you every time. It reminds you that beauty and pain, permanence and impermanence, discipline and chaos—they’re all connected.”
That connection is why tattoos are unlike paintings or sculptures. They don’t live in galleries. They live on bodies. They walk into bars, offices, families, and funerals. They age with the skin, fade with the sun, and shift with time. They carry memory, identity, and transformation.

Philosophy of the Needle

Be present. The machine doesn’t wait for inspiration.
Be disciplined. Every stroke is permanent—precision matters.
Be human. Tattoos are made of patience, empathy, and trust.
Be humble. The ink will fade, but the experience lasts forever.
Be earned. The pain is part of the ritual, part of the art.

A Life in Ink
Tattooing, for Notch, is not just an art form—it’s a way of living. It demands discipline, but it also offers freedom. It is ritualistic and meditative, yet alive and unpredictable.
Most of all, it is honest. A tattoo cannot hide its flaws. It cannot be repainted or undone. It exists exactly as it was created—vulnerable, raw, and true.
That is why Notch continues to love the craft. Because every tattoo is more than ink—it is a moment shared, a discipline practiced, a pain endured, and a meditation made visible.

“Tattooing is permanence and impermanence, beauty and pain, discipline and chaos,” he says. “That’s why I live it. Because in the end, tattooing is life itself.”

Brandon G Notch, tattoos for the serious collector.