Page 1111 - Wordsmith A Guide to College Writing

People whom she shepherds through this difficult stage view her as 16
sort of a modern shaman. After several intense hours of partnership

with them, she doesn’t see them again. It reminds me of this: You

know that friend who hangs out with you in your bad days following

the divorce, whom you feel weird calling later once things are better?

And whom you don’t call? Not because you no longer like the friend,

but because in your mind, he’s now inextricably linked to the
darkness. While she receives, and counts on, a ton of repeat

business, the people Sarah sees just for memorial portraiture are

people she expects to lose immediately and forever. This is true of the

father and son who got the portraits. “I know I’ll never see those guys

again. Hopefully I won’t see them again.” It’s not that she didn’t like

them; just the opposite. She wishes them well.

This also means that she’ll never again see the piece of art she 17

worked so hard to create. It’s strange. The tattoos that grant the

honored dead a sort of new existence also mean the sure passing of

her work from her own world forever. She calls this “a good lesson to
have learned as an artist” and compares it to spring cleaning. “If you

empty your surroundings, you empty yourself in order to create more,”

she says. “Nothing’s permanent.”

She has said no to hundreds of prospective clients because the 18
tattoos were not her style or up to her taste standards. But Sarah

Peacock never refuses a tattoo to honor the dead. “No, I don’t mess

with memorial stuff. That’s very personal to them.” If you ask her to,

she will tattoo a simple cross and an RIP symbol and be done with it.

She’ll ink a pair of initials, or pretty much anything else you like.