¡VIVA LA BLACK & GRAY!-BIG GUS MAKES HIS MARK
By Bob Baxter

Big Gus blows me away! I've seen his work at tattoo events in California and Arizona. His astounding black-and-gray murals bring to mind the best of Good Time Charlie Cartwright, Jack Rudy, Freddy Negrete and Brian Everett, the pioneers of the style, the masters of world-class, fine-line tattoos. These innovative geniuses and their unparalleled single-needle work stood the world on its ear nearly three decades ago. "They'll fade and never last," said the critics. Well, they did last and the technique is back stronger than ever with new, young artists like Big Gus, but the story doesn't end there. Big Gus had a hard time of it. I guess you could say he was a "bad boy." But the bad boy had a life-changing epiphany, got focused, realigned his priorities and now, at 28, is married, the father of four and the co-owner of the coolest insider shop on the boulevard. No doubt about it, Gus has arrived. The tattoo life offers many rewards, especially for someone with his level of talent, and Big Gus has it all: love for his family, respect for his heritage and a passion for the art. If this is the direction tattooing is going in the future, we can count our blessings: Big Gus is leading the way. ¡Viva la black-and-gray. Viva Big Gus!

BOB BAXTER: What's the name of your shop?

BIG GUS: Demented Image Art Studios, Los Angeles, California.

BB: When did you begin to draw?

BG: I've been drawing ever since I can remember holding a paintbrush in my hand. My mom was an artist. She was actually a graduate from the university in my country, Nicaragua, in Central America. She had a full degree and everything. When I was little, she used to buy me those paint-by-number sets to help you color coordinate. She used to buy me those all the time, and I do it with my kids now, too. That was kind of my beginning steps. I remember drawing Snoopy freehand when I was in first grade. The teacher called my parents in because she though I was tracing. I told the teacher, "I didn't trace it," and she said, "Don't lie to me. It's not a good thing to lie. So, they called my parents in and they made me draw it right there, and I did. I really tripped the teacher out. I've been drawing since I can remember.

BB: I've heard you say that the tattooing you do is "cultural." What do you mean by that?

BG: It's part of an expanding culture. It relates back to our ancestors in the ancient and Mayan days to as recent as Pancho Villa and Zapata and the rebel days of the war. To the gangbanging days, which is something I don't endorse. Tattooing became part of gangbanging in an effort to show the difference between us and other people. To show the difference between the gangsters on the Westside-I don't really like to use the term "gangsters." It's a gangster style, because gangsters were the first ones to get tattooed that way.

BB: Single-needle work with a guitar string?

BG: Right. A guitar string. That's how I learned to tattoo. I grew up in a rough neighborhood. I had my friends make my machines because they were older than me. Guys that had been around already. A lot of my friends aren't around anymore, so I had to step up and take their place. I was the artist of the neighborhood. That's how I started. India Ink with a guitar string and a rubber band. The whole jailhouse thing. I did that until about the age of 18. From about the age of 14, when I started tattooing, to the age of about 18 or 19, when my wife got me my first professional machine. You know, those kits they sell in the magazines? I call them the kits that work like shit. But I'll be honest with you, for someone in the ghetto that hasn't got any money, that's the easiest way to get a professional machine. You know, you cannot get a good machine from a professional shop. They won't sell it to you. Any decent shop, anyway. Any shop with the ways of the old school is not going to sell to you.

BB: And suppliers will ask where you work.

BG: Certain suppliers. Some suppliers, like at the Pomona convention-there's a couple that sell to the public. That shouldn't be happening. I got into tattooing by luck. I got hired by luck. I met the right person. I started working at Stinky Ink in Pico Rivera. The owner's name was Lonnie Oster. He gave me my first break. I just went in there and showed him some pieces I did and he said, "You're hired." I didn't know how to make needles, nothing. I was ignorant to the business. But he took a chance on me, because he saw I had some kind of drawing skills. I just progressed and learned from watching people.

BB: Where did you learn to make needles?

BG: I knew a couple guys there. One guy's name was Drew. He's the one that showed me how to make needles. He was the one who pretty much gave me my quick apprenticeship, while I was working at the same time. And that's how I learned the basics of tattooing. I was never taught how to do certain things. I had to learn on my own, just from watching people. In this business, people are really secretive. Instead of being really open about things, which I understand, because now that I'm at the point I'm tattooing the way I do. I understand not wanting to give everything away. Once I started learning in the shop, I was taught old school: don't apprentice anybody, because his mom is going to open up a shop. You know what I'm talking about. I've only had one apprentice in eight years. I don't want anymore. I don't need anymore.

BB: You've been tattooing eight years?

BG: Let's see, I started in 2002. Professionally, I'd say six years. After Stinky Ink I worked in about five other shops before here. They were pretty much hole-in-the-wall shops around the L.A. area. But besides tattooing, I love to paint and work with acrylics and draw with pencil. I started doing graffiti when I was nine. I've tried graffiti, acrylics, pencil-every medium there is. I tell people, if you can take your time and tattoo like you draw, you can be a great artist. Once you can accomplish that, you can master both things. But you can't ever master tattooing. You can master the pencil, but you can only go so far with it. But with tattooing, even someone who hasn't been tattooing that long can show you something that can totally change your whole way of doing things. That's pretty much how it came to be.

BB: Who were your main influences?

BG: Jack Rudy and Freddy Negrete. I remember meeting Freddy Negrete when I was 14. One of my friends was his nephew. That's what made me want to start tattooing. I was really scared about starting to tattoo, you know, thinking I might mess someone up. But once you see work like that, you really admire it. You say, "I want to be like that." I remember getting my first shop tattoo at a shop called Rose & Dagger on Garfield. Murdock did it. He did my first shop tattoo at 17. I remember telling him, "I'm going to be like you when I grow up." Now, every time I see him, he's like, "What's up, Gus? Dude, I can't believe where you're at right now." I told him, "I told you I was going to be like you, dog." I totally saw the way it was going to be. I've made a lot of good friends.

BB: Did you find that people like Jack Rudy were helpful to you?

BG: Freddy was cool. Freddy would talk more to us, because he was more open, probably because I was from the neighborhood. Jack was cool, when I would talk to him, when Murdock was working there. He would talk to you, but he wouldn't talk to you talk to you, you know what I mean?

BB: Are there people who influenced you that are not from around here?

BG: Oh yeah, Paul Booth was major. Paul Booth took tattooing, especially black-and-gray, to a whole other level. He made people see that everything doesn't need to be outlined. Everything doesn't need to be so bold and dark. He took it to where it has a beautiful art aspect about it. Three dimensional, contrast, the lighting. There's more to art than just a tattoo. There's the way the light and shadows hit the tattoo, the contrast, where it's going on the body, how it's flowing-all of that matters. And Paul Booth showed that. Another one, Jack Rudy for sure. Jack Rudy to me is my number one influence. Jack and Freddy Negrete are my two major influences. I grew up doing the Chicanas, Mexican girls in the sombreros, doing the gangster street stuff. Jack and Freddy and Murdock did that stuff.

BB: One thing I like about your work is your wonderful placement.

BG: My friend David helps me with that. I have lots of help around my shop. I'm a good artist but I need lots of help. I'm barely touching the iceberg right now. This is barely the tip of what I'm trying to do. I've had my shop for three months. But I've been doing the convention scene for a while now, and I have never been recognized. Something happened to me within the last year which was life changing. I'd tell you more but I can't talk about it. Since then, it opened my eyes. All that you see here, I have accomplished all this in the last 12 months. I wish this industry had more custom artists like Antonio from Good Time Charlie's, my friend Pint-he's one of those cats you kind of have to find-Bob Tyrrell, Juan Puente, Rick Walters and Catfish Carl. Rick is kind of my papa in tattooing. He introduces me to everybody. He'll say, "You have to take a look at this kid's stuff, he's unbelievable." I'm really blessed to have friends like that.

BB: Do you have family?

BG: I have a wife and four kids. I've always been able to survive with tattooing. At first, it was hard. When I first started tattooing, I quit my job. I was getting paid $21 an hour, but I couldn't handle it. I used to mix rubber. I used to make the rubber for the O rings on the space shuttle. It was hard work. Sweaty. Carbon and black in your lungs. In the summer time, you're talking about 120 degrees inside a metal shed. I quit that job. I told my wife, "I can't do both these things," and she said, "Well, you know what your love is. It's not mixing rubber. You should take the chance." It's the best thing I've ever done. My life has totally changed. I can afford stuff I never could for my kids. Plus we've had two more since then. I've had my own house since I was 22 years old and that's a lot more than a lot of people have, nowadays. I might not drive a nice car but I have a nice place to go home to.

Big Gus
(310) 338-0278
www.dementedimage.com
gusart@verizonmail.com