Ocean, Tattoo Artist at Soul Survivors Winnipeg

 If I’m being honest, my first real experience in the industry was getting tattooed myself. I remember feeling both excited and scared, but also really aware that I was searching for something, an experience that felt human, not transactional.

I went into a few different shops before finding Soul Survivors, and most places made me feel like an object rather than a person. Then I walked in here, and everything shifted. I felt seen, and welcomed. My first tattoo was with Victor, and he was incredible. I had all these sketches for my design, and instead of dismissing them, he looked at me and said, “Okay, you draw your mandala and I’ll draw mine. When you come in, we’ll decide which one we’re going to do.”

That blew my mind. It was such a simple gesture, but it was the first time I felt really acknowledged as an artist. I ended up choosing his design….because of course he killed it, but he loved mine too. The fact that it was even a hard choice made me realize that maybe I was something of an artist after all. That moment with Victor was a huge part of what inspired me to become a tattooer.

It’s funny because my biggest inspirations weren’t tattoo artists at all. My earliest influences came from storybooks and fantasy worlds. I grew up completely immersed in fairy tales…always daydreaming, always drawing. Art has always been my safest space to exist in, a place where I could create worlds that felt softer, kinder, and more alive than the one around me.

I genuinely live in a different realm in my brain, and I think that’s where my art comes from. I’m deeply inspired by the whimsy and joy of living things, by the quiet magic of nature and imagination.

Aesthetically, I’ve always loved Alphonse Mucha and the Art Nouveau movement, that flowing, organic linework and romantic storytelling through form and pattern. I think that influence still shows up in my tattooing, even if in subtle ways. My work often feels like a bridge between the tangible and the otherworldly, and that’s exactly how I like it

This is always the hardest question for me to answer, because I don’t feel like I’ve found, a neat label for what I do. If I had to describe it, I’d say it’s illustrative, but even that feels too small for what I’m trying to express.

My work is less about fitting into a style and more about evoking a feeling. I want my tattoos to make people feel something….sometimes it’s delight, sometimes softness, sometimes even sadness, but always a sense of aliveness. I think that’s what connects my art more than any single visual element.

Technically, my pieces tend to be detailed and intentional, but I don’t like to limit myself to just fine line work. Some designs call for delicacy, others for boldness. What matters to me most is that the art feels true, and that it carries the emotion..

In a way, my style is just an extension of my inner world. It’s intuitive, emotional, and evolving. I think that’s what people connect with, the honesty behind it, not the category it fits into.

Honestly, I wish clients knew that I’m much more functional in person than I am online. I know I can take a while to respond to messages, and it’s not because I don’t care, it’s just not where I shine. I’m at my best when I can connect face-to-face, talk through ideas, and feel that creative energy in real time. That’s when I really understand what someone wants and how to bring it to life.

When it comes to designing, I work best when there’s a balance between direction and freedom. If you come to me with a concept or design and then trust me to interpret it, that’s when the magic happens. Too many constraints can box it in, but total freedom doesn’t always give it shape either. Somewhere in the middle….that’s my sweet spot.

At the end of the day, my process is intuitive. I want every piece to feel resonant, and that always starts with real human connection.

I think what I love most about Winnipeg’s tattoo culture is how much it feels like a small town. Somehow everyone seems to know of or be connected to someone else, and that creates this sense of community that’s really special. Even as a newer Winnipeg tattoo artist, I’ve felt so welcomed by everyone I’ve met. I’ve made genuine friendships through the industry—sometimes over coffee, sometimes just through shared appreciation for the art—and it’s made me feel deeply connected to the people here.

There’s a sweetness and humility to the artists in this city. Most of us just want to draw, create, and survive the winter. There’s something beautiful about that collective energy—the quiet resilience and creativity that comes from working and thriving in this place.

When I joined Soul Survivors, I thought I’d have to really work my way into the community, but instead it felt like everyone just opened the door and said, “Of course you’re part of the club.” That kind of acceptance is something I’ll always carry with me, and I think it  is indicative of the realness you find in Winnipeg. 

Honestly, it might be the back piece I’m working on right now. It’s been this unfolding journey that feels almost guided.

My second tattoo ever was done on a small island in Thailand by an artist trained by Buddhist monks in the sacred Sak Yant tradition. I’d wanted to be tattooed by him for years, and I planned the entire trip around that experience. It was deeply intentional and incredibly meaningful…..done down my spine, with deep purpose..

When I moved back to Winnipeg, I had this image saved on my phone….something I’d found years ago on Google with no artist credit. I always imagined it could someday expand on that original piece. Then one day, I saw someones  hand tattoo, and the style looked strikingly familiar. When I asked who did it, she told me, and I realized he was a Winnipeg tattoo artist. I couldn’t believe it. I’d been following this style for years, never knowing the artist was right here.

I emailed him, explained that I wanted to work around the original piece rather than cover it, and told him who the artist was. His reply gave me chills: “That’s actually one of my closest friends in the world—we collaborate on tattoos together all the time.”

When I went to his studio, the only photos on his wall were of the two of them. He told me he literally didn’t know anyone else in Winnipeg who had work from that artist. Somehow, across all those years and miles, I ended up being tattooed by two best friends….one in Thailand, one here in Winnipeg….without ever knowing they were connected.

It’s one of those stories that just feels like the universe winking at you. It reminds me why I love tattooing so much, how art can weave people, places, and moments together in the most magical, unexpected ways.

You can expect to be treated with kindness, care, and consideration. I take a lot of time to really listen before our session so that when you arrive, I already have a deep understanding of your mission. My goal is that you feel both seen and safe—and that the art I create reflects something personal and meaningful to you.

I’ll always do what I can to keep you comfortable, physically and emotionally. I encourage my clients to advocate for themselves—to speak up if something doesn’t feel right or if they’d like to see a change. It’s important to me that you love your design and your experience from start to finish.

You can also expect a calm, flexible atmosphere. If you want to chat and laugh the whole time, I’m here for that. If you’d rather pop in your headphones and zone out, that’s perfectly fine too. However you show up, I’ll meet you there—with patience, gentleness, and a genuine desire to make your time in my chair a beautiful, memorable experience.

Yes—tattoos hurt. I’ll never tell you otherwise. It’s a needle going into your skin, so there’s always going to be some discomfort involved. But how much it hurts really depends on a lot of things: placement, style of tattooing, and your individual body and nervous system. Everyone’s pain tolerance is different, and even your life experiences can influence how you handle sensation.

You might ask a friend what a certain spot felt like for them, but your experience could be completely different—and that’s okay. Part of getting a tattoo is accepting that you’re stepping into something a little unknown.

I always make sure you’re in a safe, supported environment to experience that discomfort. You don’t need to brace yourself for the worst—just know that you might not love how it feels the whole time, but you’ll love the result.

And honestly, I think there’s something transformative about it. Experiencing pain in a safe, chosen way can shift something inside you—it reminds your body that you can do hard things. There’s this quiet triumph that comes at the end when you realize you faced it and came out stronger.

I’m much more functional and effective in person than I am online. A consultation gives us a chance to connect face-to-face, talk through your ideas, and make sure we’re on the same page before any ink touches skin. It’s also a chance for you to get to know me—and for me to get to know you—so that when the day comes, it doesn’t feel like you’re sitting in a room with a stranger.

I like to think of tattoos as a kind of permanent handshake—we’re creating something together that will live on your body for life. Meeting first lets us see if our energy fits, and it opens the door to collaboration.

During consultations, I often ask clients questions they’d never think to ask themselves. Those small, thoughtful details often make the biggest difference in a design. There’s just a kind of creative electricity that happens when we’re in the same room—when we can bounce ideas, get excited, and build something that feels truly personal.