Stepping into color

This week in my final group therapy, I opened up about something I don’t often share — that I used to be enlisted before becoming an officer. I was injured on deployment and had to start over and left active duty.  I went back to school and earned my commission with one goal: to be the kind of leader I wished I’d had when I was enlisted. But position and leadership don’t erase humanity. I told the group that even though I had been highly successful in my career, as a senior officer I’ve stumbled, fallen short, and learned the hard way that strength isn’t about being flawless — it’s about being honest with yourself. We’re all equals in the fight to get better, and if I can make mistakes and still move forward, I hoped they could follow my lead and move forward as well.

That truth has been echoing through my art lately. As my sketches shift from black and grey to color, I see the same message playing out — the move from control to acceptance, from structure to flow.

Change has a funny way of sneaking up on you. I love the opportunity and mentorship Nathan and Brandon at Tattooing 101 have provided through their Artist Hour program. One day you’re sketching in black and grey, refining the shadows and edges you’ve mastered for years — the next, you find yourself reaching for color. It’s subtle at first — a little red here, a touch of green or gold there — but then you realize something has shifted. You’re not just changing your art. You’re changing the way you see.

This week, my Artist Hour pieces have all carried that feeling. A Japanese crane — elegant, deliberate, timeless — reminded me that transformation doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful. A traditional hot air balloon, painted in bold red, black, green, and gold, lifted that message higher. Each line and color felt like permission — to rise, to look at life from a new perspective.

At the same time, I’ve been moving through my own kind of transition — stepping out of military life and into the civilian world. After years of living in structure, order, and the clear lines of service, there’s something disorienting about all this open space. The military has its black and white. Civilian life — especially an artist’s life — is made up of every shade and tone in between.

In uniform, everything was defined. The rules were (usually) clear, the mission spelled out. Now, my “life palette” is wide open — and it’s both exciting and overwhelming. I’m learning that not every line has to be perfect, not every color has to stay inside the border. The discipline that shaped me as a Soldier is still there, but now it’s blending with curiosity, creativity, and color.

The Inktober prompt for Thursday “Firefly” took me somewhere unexpected — I sketched a drone, inspired by the ones used in coordinated light shows that fill the sky. There’s something beautiful about the way hundreds of individual lights can move in sync, creating something amazing together. Maybe that’s what this part of my life is about — learning to trust the pattern, even when I can’t see the whole picture.

The Inktober prompt today was “Rowdy,” which had me thinking of a classic 1950s rockabilly flash — slick hair, hot rods, and the rhythm of rebellion. It feels fitting. There’s a certain freedom in letting that energy out, in owning the noise and the color that used to feel off-limits.

The more I draw, the more I realize this transition isn’t about leaving something behind — it’s about adding new tones to who I already am. The black and grey of discipline and purpose will always be my foundation. But the color — that’s where the emotion, the risk, and the life come in.

Just like in tattooing, it’s all about balance. The dark gives weight to the light. The structure gives shape to the chaos. The past gives meaning to the future.

I’m still learning how to work with this new palette — both in my art and in my life — but I can already see the beauty forming in the mix.

Because sometimes growth isn’t about changing who you are.  It’s about discovering how many colors you were capable of holding all along.

At Honor and Ink™, that same truth drives every piece we create. Each client brings their own colors — their stories, scars, memories, and milestones — and we build from them. Every tattoo becomes part of that shared palette, blending their life with ours in the process. As we evolve as artists, it’s their stories that keep adding new shades to what we do. Together, we create something living — art that keeps growing, just like we do.

Next Week: “Stories in the Skin — The Shared Canvas of Art and Life”

Every tattoo begins as an idea, but it becomes something real when it meets a story. Each line, each shade, carries a piece of someone’s past, hope, or healing. As I move deeper into this season of color and transition, I’m reminded that the true art of tattooing isn’t just what we create — it’s what we connect.

Next week, I’ll be exploring how every client leaves a mark not only on their skin, but on Honor and Ink™ itself — how shared stories, quiet strength, and the courage to be seen give this craft its soul.