Through the Eyes of a Tattoo Artist: A Series
Magie Serpica McGowan tattooing someone at Studio Enigma in the early 2000’s ( Photo courtesy of Magie Serpica McGowan)
Join Magie Serpica McGowan on a captivating journey through the history and evolution of tattooing on Staten Island in her series, Through The Eyes of a Tattoo Artist. This series offers a unique perspective on the tattoo culture, vividly highlighting her challenges and triumphs as one of the island's pioneering women in the field.
Tattoos have become so widely accepted and so incredibly mainstream that it is hard to imagine a time when that was not the case. Staten Island has embraced this form of body art so much that we have nearly twenty shops throughout our sixty-square-mile island. Taking it further, we presently have the most women tattooers this island has ever had since tattooing became legal in NYC in 1997. I should know, as I am one of the first (I believe quite possibly the literal first!) woman tattooers on this island, starting in 2002. While I applaud this accomplishment of acceptance of the many amazing women in this borough who are slaying this form of art, and to the shop owners who have given many of us a fantastic work environment, (shout out to Victor Modafferi at Bullseye who presently employs the most amount of women in a single shop!) I find that shedding light on the journey of arriving at this place is, at best, honoring tattoo history, and at worst, providing a chuckle and an eye roll to our beloved borough.
The first shop I started working at, pretty much after 9-11, was also one of the first shops to open upon the legalization of tattooing: Studio Enigma. There had been several Studio Enigmas throughout the five boroughs, operating as a chain of sorts, though owned primarily by one person, Carlo Fodera. Carlo, who passed away several years ago, was integral to the legalization of tattooing, as he fronted many of the dollars required for the legal fees and legal representation to demonstrate a legitimate case before the City of New York.
Carlo took a chance on me, a twenty-one-year-old baby-faced weirdo, in love with the idea of learning to tattoo and making it a career. While I technically began in 2001 in Brooklyn, I have made a lasting career tattooing my way around Staten Island for the past twenty-three years. Yet, I would be remiss not to share some of the obstacles and horror stories I have endured along the way to highlight how dramatically times have changed in such a brief time, while also sharing a bit of firsthand tattoo history.
Imagine a space chock full of laminated flash sheets, perfectly fit top to bottom on a wall with a decorative tin ceiling, surrounding dozens of movable racks displaying hundreds of pages of tattoo flash, on both sides of the room. There was a large granite counter held up by a dozen gothic porcelain columns spanning the entire width of the shop, separating the den of flash sheets with the large tattoo area and its four stations. There was not a single computer in the shop. No internet. Most of the artists did not own a cell phone. Social media was not a thing, and neither were our handy dandy iPads. We had tracing paper, a light box, pencils, a photocopy machine, tons of books for reference images and to trace lettering out of, and a very loud buzzing sound echoing through the space nearly every hour of the day. This was typical of how most tattoo shops looked and operated at that time, and what makes me beyond grateful for the tech-based setup I have nowadays.
I was the only woman in the shop amongst three male tattooers, one piercer dude, and two men at the counter—and I was the youngest by many years. Appointments were not allowed in this shop, as it was a walk-in-only street shop, where the first customer of the day was decided by whoever showed up to work first and then went on a rotation. We had strict rules of operation from noon to midnight, where to work at this shop, it was mandatory to stay the entire twelve-hour shift. I was always super intimidated as there was no telling what the day would bring in terms of clients and the designs they would want.
I never did a proper apprenticeship. Rather, I hung around a shop in Brooklyn, the first one to open in Bay Ridge, where I had hoped that the artists there would teach me things. Matty Fontana was one of the main artists who showed me the ropes in that Brooklyn shop, and I followed him to Staten Island’s Enigma. Though forty years my elder, He was the only bit of familiarity I had when I first began working on Staten Island. Besides Matty, I would sit and watch Big Ant (RIP) doing these gigantic tattoos all day long, wondering if I would ever be at that skill level to do what he did so effortlessly. I got to watch how these men, Matty, Anthony, and Andre, interacted with clients who wanted to get tattooed, and I paid particular attention to how drastically different it was for me when I was inserted into similar situations.
The letter that Magie used to have in her portfolio
( Photo courtesy of Magie Serpica McGowan)
One of the most regularly occurring things at this shop was overhearing customers—standing a mere two feet away from me—say to my coworkers, “Is she good?” I CAN HEAR YOU. Literally, I'm a few feet away. I could hear them questioning my coworkers about my ability to tattoo their baby’s birthday in Roman numerals as if the other employees would fess up within earshot had I not been “good.” This got exhausting. At one point, I had a handwritten letter on the cover of my portfolio explaining how rude and disrespectful it was to behave that way, pointing out that it was entirely because I was a woman that this question even got asked. It was nothing short of comical to me when after several years into my tattoo career the shop hired an apprentice who was new to all forms of art in general, and the questions of my ability to tattoo were directed to this novice.
Staten Island men could not fathom that little old me would be able to tattoo something “evil” on them. This was another example of the incessant questions I would get asked. Anything beyond a butterfly or tramp stamp was hard to fathom coming from a woman! “Are you afraid of skulls?” “Would you be able to make it look scary?” “Do you know much about demons?” I. Shit. You. Not. This was daily life for me.
One of my absolute all-time favorites stories though would have to be from a frigid winter night in 2005 or 2006. It was later in the evening, probably around seven or eight. It had been just me and one other artist that night, along with Patty working the counter. The other artist stepped out to eat, taking his time as it had been slow all day. A man in his early thirties walks in and starts rummaging through the endless racks of flash. He found a design he wanted to get tattooed and, like every client before him, I tried my best to convince him that I could in fact draw that design a whole lot better than what was printed on the flash page, hoping that this time the client would oblige. He did! I excitedly worked out a drawing that he ended up loving. I had given him a price, and he got started with the legal paperwork while I began setting up my station.
Shortly after he finished signing the release form, he walked to and leaned over the granite counter and began looking feverishly all around, seemingly for a person who was clearly not me. “Can I help you?” I asked as he continued to look left and right and beyond me. “Yeah, uh, where is he?” he exclaimed. “He who?” I blurted back to him. “The tattoo guy,” he retorted. I was dumbfounded at that moment. Who did he think I was? “Who do you think I am?” I asked in a staccato rhythm. “You’re the prep.”
I was “the prep” in many similar situations for several years to come. I would cry and get angry and had a lot of practice becoming witty and sharp-tongued in tattoo shops, and becoming, as the tattooers from a different era than today would call, “thick-skinned.” I am extremely grateful that times have changed for the better, and while those sorts of things still occur, it has overall become a much more inclusive field to work in, where women are far more respected than when it first began.
These few anecdotal tales are just the beginning of my many follies, silly situations, struggles, woes, etc. as I have tattooed my way across this Island over two-plus decades, and I invite you, in issues to come, to peek into the Staten Island world of tattooing and beyond through my firsthand accounts!
Photo by Ivan Estevez
Magie Serpica McGowan is a multi dimensional tattoo artist with over 23 years of experience. As one of the first female tattooers on Staten Island, she has carved out a significant presence in an industry once dominated by men. Her journey reflects not only her dedication to the craft but also her role in paving the way for future generations of female tattoo artists. Beyond tattooing, Magie is a muralist, illustrator, musician, instructor, and performer. Through her work, Magie continues to inspire and challenge conventions, leaving an indelible mark on the world of art and tattooing.