The first tattoo Scott LaShay of Akara Arts ever etched into flesh was the logo of the punk band Crass. Years later, he invested a few dozen hours of craft and focus into replicating a Vincent Van Gogh painting on someone’s back. I ask him about the most ridiculous designs he’s ever done. Scott replies that nothing seems too weird anymore and admits that’s kind of sad. He makes a thoughtful point about desensitization. Persistent, I press him for a concrete answer. He’s savvy to criticize a client who deserves it.
“Well, this one guy already had a really tiny Homer Simpson head on his arm,” he dishes. “And then he decided, just a couple inches away, to get another really tiny Homer Simpson head.”
I’ve always thought I was special.
Scott has committed thousands of images to skin, but he’d never used canary yellow to strike that perfect Springfieldian tone until a Friday evening in March when I walked into Akara in Bay View. The decorum is stylish and soothing, with paintings that suggest the vivid, cool, and dark undertones so readily linked to body art. The antithesis of a seedy parlor, I feel the calming influence of the immaculately clean white walls and ceiling bathed in sunlight as my eyes absorb the macabre appeal of a giant spider sculpture.
“The people who show in the gallery work here as artists,” Scott explains. “Or they’re local artists that happen to be good friends of mine. Starting in May, we’re going to be having monthly gathering shows. We also do every Bay View Gallery Night.”
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Along with his staff, he has cultivated a sophisticated space to create body art. I’m happy for my fellow Fond du Lac native. My own feelings are ambivalent, but Scott puts a positive spin on the birthplace we share.
“We always made our own fun,” he says. “My parents were supportive of me riding bikes and skateboards and playing music, so they always let me build ramps in the yard and play music in the basement.”
He found inspiration in Fond du Lac. It was at Chegwin Elementary School that Scott first became intrigued by tattoos.
“I noticed a kid had a stick and poke tattoo on his ankle, in like the sixth grade,” he grins, enchanted by nostalgia. “It was during gym class and he was taking his socks off. He had a cross, and the kid said something like, ‘When I look at it, man, it’s upside-down.’ I thought that was pretty gnarly.”
Scott has made a new home in the Brew City, saying, “Overall, Milwaukee is a hardworking, gritty town. At the same time, it’s got a real charm to it. The people are really genuine.”
I ask Scott how body art and music could be intertwined.
“Maybe there’s a tie-in between musicians and musical culture and counterculture and tattoos,” he says. “I think that’s getting smaller and smaller as tattoos become more widely accepted. But there’s something to be said of tattoos as a kind of counterculture art.
“It stands to reason that if you like gnarly music, you might have some gnarly tattoos, but maybe not,” he goes on nonchalantly. “Maybe you have Hello Kitty tattoos and you like metal. That actually happens.”
His response reminds me of the ethos common in tattoo circles: The Golden Rule is paramount. Absolute judgment is discouraged, and oftentimes challenged. I inquire about his current band Nadoula.
“The best general category of Nadoula would be metal, but there’s lots of subgenres in there,” he says. “We’re influenced by everything from classic metal to thrash metal to punk. Our vocals are clean, and when there’s screaming, it’s me. It’s a little more melodic and less abrasive than some of the stuff I’ve done in the past.”
His musical past in Fond du Lac sprung from punk-rock roots, a scene in which his enthusiasm for body art likewise exploded. He joined his first band in the sixth grade.
“The Perfect Gentlemen,” he reminisces.
“That sounds like a barbershop quartet,” I joke, barely able to suppress my urge to sing “Baby on Board” by The Be Sharps.
“Very short-lived,” he laughs. “I started with punk. Easier to play on guitar. And I think I got gradually more into metal as my skills as a player increased.”
Minutes before I take a seat in an extremely cozy chair to add a teenage Homer head to my arm, I begin my lightning round of rock music nerdy.
"Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath?" I ask.
"I gotta go Black Sabbath," he replies.
I then ask, "Best concert you’ve ever been to?"
To which he replied "It’s a tie between Fugazi and Neurosis."
“Favorite singer, guitarist, bassist, and drummer?” I inquire with the obsessive zeal of Jack Black in High Fidelity. “And would they perform well as a cohesive unit?”
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He has to dwell on a question of this magnitude. My extremely cozy chair and endurable pangs of hurt await. I’m not especially nervous. In this life it helps to have a high tolerance for pain.
“Singer, Freddie Mercury,” Scott says. “Guitar, John McLaughlin. Bass, Lemmy or Steve Harris. Drums, John Bonham or Dan Costello.”
The latter is a fine shout-out to another Fond du Lac native. Hey Dan! Did you see that Saturday Night Live skit that destroyed us? We’re famous!
“And I don’t know if this lineup could work,” Scott concludes, typically unhip to judgment and conjecture. “Because aside from Dan Costello, I have no idea what it’s like to work with any of them.”
A short time later: Bzzzzzzzzzzzztttttt!!! I had to laugh at the pain for a good long while.
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An idyllic day in Milwaukee was blighted only by my drive home through a snowstorm. I made it back to Fond du Lac, slowly. Visibility was low. My level of concentration was high. But I did muster enough brainpower to dwell on my fresh teenage Homer bust and naturally, The Simpsons.
When asked about the muse for my tattoos, Scott had smiled. “I’ve never laughed harder in my life than when Ralph Wiggum said, ‘Super Nintendo Chalmers.’ That came on, and for the rest of the episode, I was just rolling around on the ground laughing.”
“Super Nintendo Chalmers,” I giggle, eyes focused, hands strangling the steering wheel.
Moments later another reason to return to Milwaukee and Akara Arts occurs to me in a vision clearer than the road in front of me. I would soon get a Mr. Sparkle tattoo on the same arm—and call the whole splendorous display The Max Power Trio.
In the meantime, I’m thrilled to refer to my left arm as the No Homers Club.
While it may look like I’m on anti-depressants that actually work, don’t be fooled! I’m simply bonkers with tatt satisfaction thanks to Akara Arts.
