Patrick, Tattoo Artist at Soul Survivors Winnipeg

I’d sit around sketching, soaking it all in, and just watching these artists make a living doing something creative. For a teenager, that was mind-blowing. It showed me that tattooing wasn’t just art—it could actually be a career if you had the drive for it.

Those early days—drawing, cleaning, just being in that atmosphere—really left an impression on me. It was the first time I felt that mix of freedom and focus that comes with being in a tattoo shop. Looking back, that’s probably when I knew I was going to find my way into this world one way or another.

One of the biggest influences on me early on was Robert Ryan. I remember seeing his paintings long before I even looked at them as tattoos. There was something about his work—it was so esoteric and symbolic, and it made me realize that tattooing could hold the same kind of mystery and storytelling that fine art does. Seeing that style translated onto skin was a huge eye-opener. It reassured me that there’s space for the strange and the spiritual in tattooing—that whatever niche you’re drawn to, someone out there will connect with it.

Beyond that, I’ve always been inspired by the old-school tattooers—the guys who are long gone, and came before all of us.. The people who were just figuring it out as they went, without all the modern conveniences we have now. There’s something really human and grounding about that. It reminds me that tattooing has always been a process of exploration and imperfection.

I think that shows up in my own work too—the mythic elements, the storytelling, the sense of something older running underneath it all. I like being reminded that at its core, tattooing has always been about people finding meaning through art, no matter what time or place they’re in.

Style-wise, I’d say my work has its roots in old European traditional tattooing—minimal color palettes, slightly finer lines, and a focus on simplicity and strength. I use both coil and rotary machines, and I love how each gives a different energy to a piece. I want a tattoo to look and feel like a tattoo. It’s not a painting, not graffiti, not a digital illustration—tattooing is its own medium, and it should carry that texture, that life.

Coming from a background in digital art, I had to unlearn a lot. On a computer, everything can be flawless, perfectly controlled. But tattoos aren’t supposed to be that. I remember my friend Donnie telling me, “You’re trying to reinvent the wheel. Just let tattooing be tattooing.” He was right. That changed how I approached everything.

Now, I would describe my work as a blend of folk and traditional—it has a raw, human innocence to it. I love tattoos that feel alive and imperfect, where you can still see the hand of the artist. There’s an honesty in that. For me, folk tattooing carries a kind of innocent truth—it’s simple, emotional, and unpolished in the best way. It reminds me that art doesn’t need to be flawless to feel real.

I’d rather see a bad tattoo than a boring one any day. I think there’s something really beautiful about tattoos that show a bit of the human hand in them.

I think a lot of people don’t realize how much thought goes into a tattoo before the machine even touches the skin. It’s not just drawing something cool and transferring it over. For me, there’s a rhythm to it—sketching, sitting with an idea, letting it breathe, redrawing it then building it out until it feels alive.

I wish more clients trusted that part of the process. Sometimes people come in with super-tight expectations, and I totally get it—it’s permanent. But when there’s room for collaboration and trust, that’s when the piece really takes on a life of its own.

Tattooing, to me, isn’t about perfection; it’s about energy, honesty, and presence. I want people to understand that every line, every shade, carries intention. When you give an artist a bit of freedom, you’re not losing control—you’re inviting something genuine and personal to happen. That’s where the magic is.

I wish people understood how much of myself I pour into every piece. It’s not just about putting a design on skin—it’s about understanding where that imagery comes from, the lineage and origin stories behind it. Tattooing has such a long and layered history, and I try to honour that every time I work.

Before I ever start tattooing, I spend time learning about the symbols, the patterns, and what they’ve meant across different cultures and eras. I’m fascinated by how art travels—how something can start as a folk motif or spiritual symbol and end up living on someone’s body in a completely new way.

For me, every tattoo is part of a conversation between the past and the present. I want clients to know that what they’re getting isn’t just decoration; it’s something rooted in story, ancestry, and meaning. And, that’s where the magic is. When someone trusts me with that process, it allows the work to be deeper, more connected—and that’s what keeps me inspired to do this every day.

Coming back to Winnipeg and working as a Winnipeg tattoo artist feels like coming home to something real. There’s no pretending here—the art, the people, the stories—it’s all authentic. Whether it’s a big back piece or a small walk-in tattoo, every interaction feels genuine.

What I love about the Winnipeg tattoo community, and working in a Winnipeg Tattoo SHop  is how a simple tattoo can ripple out into something bigger. You do one small piece for someone, and next thing you know, they’re bringing their whole family in. That kind of word-of-mouth connection says a lot about this city. People here value trust, loyalty, and experience.

There’s something special about doing walk-in tattoos in Winnipeg, too. You meet such a mix of people—some spontaneous, some sentimental—but they all share this openness that keeps the work interesting and meaningful.

If I had to choose a truly memorable experience, it wouldn’t even be about one specific tattoo—it would be about a moment that shifted how I saw tattooing itself.

When I first started out, I was working in a studio just outside Montreal, on the West Island. It was a very suburban kind of area, and the shop felt more like a jewelry store than a tattoo studio. Then one day, I walked in and saw Donnie working. He was rough around the edges,had  loud punk music playing, shirt off, tattooing a chest eagle on some kid in the middle of a sweltering summer day.

I remember standing there thinking, Wait—we can do that? And he just looked at me and said, “Why the fuck not?” That moment hit me like a jolt. It reminded me that tattooing doesn’t need to live inside these polished, sterilized boxes we build for it. There’s a wildness to it—a heartbeat that refuses to be tamed.

That realization changed everything for me. I’d gone to school, learned structure and technique, but that day reminded me that art—especially tattooing—isn’t supposed to be fully domesticated. No matter how refined we try to make it, at its core it’s still a deeply human, primal act: people marking each other, telling stories on skin. That wildness is what drew me in—and it’s what keeps me here.

I love walk-in tattoos because they keep things fresh. There’s something about the spontaneity of it—the mystery of not knowing who’s going to walk through the door or what idea they’ll bring—that keeps me inspired.

It’s a different kind of energy. You get to meet new people, create something unique on the spot, and really be present in the moment. I’m fully engaged with that mystery every time.

Outside of that, most things are fair game. The only things I won’t do are anything hate-inspired—no racist, bigoted, or violent messaging. I’m not into that.

When it comes to hands, necks, or throats, you’ve got to be pretty dedicated to tattooing if we’re going to go there. I still walk that old-school line of thinking where those placements should be earned or built up to—definitely not for a first tattoo.

I’ll give you a few options so you can decide what feels best. The goal is always to make sure you know what’s possible, what’s realistic, and that the final piece flows.

I think sometimes people assume I only do one type of tattoo because of what they see on my page, but that’s not true. I just love tattooing — all kinds of styles, all kinds of ideas. So don’t overthink it. Just come through and we’ll make something cool.