Bio

My interest in tattooing began as early as 1985 when I received my first tattoo at the age of 15. It was done at some biker’s house in the west side of Cleveland where I grew up. It sure wasn’t the best tattoo experience I’ve had but it made me realize there could be much more than that outline of a misfits skull I’ve had gone over several times. I’ve been drawing since I was a child and considering the environment I was surrounded by (skateboarding, punk rock and general mayhem) tattooing seemed to make sense. Everyone I knew ended up working in the auto and steel industries and I knew that just wasn’t for me. I left Cleveland in and around 1987 (it’s a foggy memory for me) and landed in Tennessee visiting relatives. While driving up the four lane into the mountains I spotted a small blue building with just a simple circus style sign that read “TATTOOING.” That’s where I met F.E. Craig. (He had studied under Gill Montie, Cliff Raven, Zeke Owens, Lou Scriberras and others of note. Some of you might recognize those names) anywhoo… I got a tattoo from him for $40. I had to ask him “How does one learn how to do this?” He swiftly replied “You serve an apprenticeship.” I asked another, “How can I do that?” to which he replied even faster “$10,000.” I was taken aback a tad as I had no means to get at that kind of money. Even through that seemingly insurmountable obstacle I started showing up at the shop everyday, invited or not. I cleaned. I watched. I heard him run his schtick. I saw him beat up on his ‘ol lady. (bikers… That’s just the way it was.) Eventually I came up with the money. Don’t y’all worry about how. I show up the day after I paid him and asked “So what do I learn today?” He hands me a mop and says “Business as usual.”
During my two year tenure I was a tracer, needle builder, janitor, first aid worker, exotic pet handler, psychiatrist, smuggler, painter, carpenter, plumber, short order cook, joint roller, entertainer, babysitter, fire extinguisher, middle man, punching bag, country music listener, beer drinker, car and motorcycle detailer,snake finder, bug killer and generally scared out of my fucking mind on a daily basis. I also managed to get a few tattoos done in there.
Coming up on the end of my second year I came to work to find all of my things packed neatly on the floor of my station. “What did I do wrong? What’s going on?” I asked. “It’s time for you to go. Go be a man. I’ve taught you everything I could but that. That’s for you to figure out and don’t say a fucking word or I’ll break your jaw and that’ll give you a pretty big head start.”

Despondent and away from what I considered my comfort zone I headed to Knoxville to see what I could do. With all my belongings in a 1986 Mercury Capri, I hit every college bar, every club and anyone who would listen. After couch touring and living like a complete nomad for almost a year I took my savings and went back to Johnson City. There I found a friend willing to help me out with the extra cash I needed to start my first shop. Pat Daniels took out a $2500 note to help get me started. He asked for nothing in return but repayment and tattoos. A hellava guy. So we found a small storefront in downtown Johnson City for $200 a month. Yeah, you read that right. $200. Before I opened I went over to Elizabethton (which was the next town over) to F.E.’s shop and asked him permission to open in Johnson City. He called me a Saint and gave me his blessing.
My father and I painted and made the space ready to open and I immediately went to work. I took on my first apprentice, Mark Hagerdorn, who went on to own a shop in Knoxville that still operates today. I met the mother of my now 16 year old daughter there and expanded the shop across the street into a six room tattoo emporium that I put more than just money into. Neon, flooring, Sheetrock, ceramic tile, plumbing… The whole shabang. Man, it was pretty. Apprenticed more guys and created jobs. My daughter was born and things were great….. until they weren’t.

I left Johnson City in 1997 and worked in shops from Gatlinburg to Atlanta to North and South Carolina to Florida to Michigan… And more.

Then I went to New Orleans.

After working Mardi Gras at Jacci Gresham’s Aart Accent on Rampart in the French Quarter I knew this is where I had needed to be. I immediately moved and worked at Aart Accent for almost 5 years. I had the great privilege of working with and learning from some great artists there, including but not limited to: Jacci, Henry Rhoads, Mike Gill, Tony Barton (who has remained a loyal friend over many years and I am grateful and privileged to work with him again at Hell or High Water) Heidi Martin, Damian, Scot Stusse (my main man) Ed Dierenger, Tag, Jesse Turchi, Pearl and god I can’t remember how many amazing people that came in and out of that shop while I was there. Even after I had worked at several other shops in the New Orleans area, after Hurricane Katrina I found myself working there again right next to Jacci herself. Knocking that shit out like we were juggernauts… all from an extension cord draped from two buildings away. We tattooed The National Guard, the NOPD (that stayed), relief workers and all those who remained to fight to keep our city alive. Good times.

Soon after I helped found Pigment Tattoo on Magazine street. Things were good…… until they weren’t. TWICE.

So now I find myself at Hell or High Water Tattoo. Surrounded by some of the best artists in the city and the best friends a guy could hope for. A shout to my boys: Tony Barton, Jordan Barlow, Eric Huffman and Adam Montegut. I learn and laugh with these guys everyday I work and couldn’t be in a happier place.

Laissez les bons temps garder laminage motherfuckers!!!

Jimmy the Saint
(James H. Black Jr.)
New Orleans, Louisiana
2/10/2012