Inked Eclectic

Jordan Shallow’s tattoos tell a different kind of story. The skull on the inside of his forearm is by Benjamin Laukis. He flew to Greece to get it. The one on his chest, his guy Hector Salas completed it in one 15-hour session, two people driven by the delicious mania of going all-in.

Most of the work that covers Shallow’s muscular terrain doesn’t come from a hazy memory or an alcohol-induced whim. He is a collector. It’s all about the artist’s reputation and skill, less about the image.

Tattoo artists, Shallow says, are as talented and intense as anyone using paint and a brush. “(Skin) is probably the most difficult piece of canvas you could ever have to work with,” he says. “What people are able to do now is just so impressive.”

While he is in a session, Shallow’s only objective is to get something great. “The best art you’re going to get is the art that the artist wants to do,” he says. When the artist chooses, the experience reaches another level of authenticity. “In order to be successful in my field, you have to give everything to the people you work with, and I think tattooing is in some ways similar. You don’t want a tattoo artist (who) doesn’t bleed it.”

A story without passion is a story not worth telling — or living.

The Chosen Ones

Shallow is a chiropractor by trade but is widely known as a sports performance coach, an entrepreneur, and a budding social media star, with 162,000 Instagram followers and counting. These are not inflated titles to make him sound impressive at the cocktail lounge. Shallow’s clients include teams from the major professional sports leagues and athletes or their handlers who summon him when they need answers right now, like a few months ago, when he was dispatched to a tennis tournament in Bogota, Colombia, to assist a client.

Downtime is at a premium for Shallow, and tattooing lets him sit down and savor a human connection in an algorithm-driven world. “One of the nice parts about tattoos is the pain kind of forces you to be really present,” he says.

Shallow got deep with his approach to tattoos about six years ago. He was at the shop of Brett Masse, one of his favorite tattoo artists, to get a Bob Shaw fighting tiger on his right leg, when the Windsor, Ontario-based artist showed Shallow a picture of Shaw and one of his original flash sheets. “The fact that all his pictures were black and white opened up my eyes to American electric tattooing, and just how far tattooing has come,” Shallow recalls.

Everything changed. Tattoos were not just cool things you gather. Thanks to Masse, Shallow learned they had history, culture, nuance, subtlety, craftsmanship. Shallow is not an artist, but the passion and care displayed by great tattoo artists is similar to how he works.

And, so, the highs of collecting began. Due to his professional success and nomadic schedule, Shallow, who is based in Toronto, can book a session if he’s traveling for business. Or he can fly to Europe or Asia to get another piece if the feeling moves him. The journey never stops.

Yes, his skin is missing some of the greats, like Freddy Corbin and Horiyoshi III, but elite tattooists are “stewards of the culture,” Shallow says, and are happy to offer a never-ending string of recommendations.

Their artwork provides a kind of VIP pass to the masters, allowing Shallow to erect an “interconnected story of all these people that know each other all over the world” who “get to put their stamp on you,” he says. Plus, he has a “wicked collection” that captures the attention of strangers and ink aficionados.

Unfinished Business

“There’s this sterilization of art through digital media,” Shallow says. “There’s nothing crazier than watching a guy load up a single needle into a fucking coil (machine) gun and plug it in that thing.”

Especially if it’s your first skull rattler, which can be a stirring reminder of humanity, or as Shallow puts it: “When you got some guy who’s got you in a fucking full nelson, trying to pin you down, just jamming the yellow into the back of your skull, you’re like, ‘Yep, you are very much where your feet are.’ Everything’s distant, everything’s computerized. But, no, that needle is in your head, dude.”

It is also a chance to change the prevailing narrative around tattoos. Social media, Shallow believes, takes the emphasis away from storytelling and affixes it to individual pieces. Most clients, he believes, do not care about the history of tattoos and designs.

He fears what that could portend. “I’d hate for the history of tattooing to one day just be a Pinterest board or an IG page,” he says. “It’s the floor-to-ceiling flash sheets in iconic street shops, or endless stories from seasoned artists that tell that story.”

Shallow believes in keeping the tradition around tattoos and artists alive, but more members are needed in this particular choir. “I have all these people that I want to get pieces by or from, and I only have so much skin and so much time,” he says.

Some places are off limits. For now. His mother, Louise, has “asked very nicely and persuasively” that he not tattoo his neck while she is alive. “We’re really riding out the clock on that one,” Shallow quips.

When his tattoo story ends, it will be on his terms. “I’m going to put one on my face, because I won’t have to ever answer to anyone again in my entire life, which will be a nice feature,” Shallow says. He wants to sell one of his companies, “and then ride off into the sunset.”

He knows what the last tattoo will be: “The word ‘replaceable’ in cursive writing somewhere on my hairline — if I still have it. I went through a pretty nasty buyout of one of my business partners who called me ‘replaceable.’ I’m just going to get one reminder so it’s always top of mind. I like the metaphor of the location.”

It’s not his neck, but wouldn’t his mom object?

“The thing is, I’m much like my mom,” Shallow says. “I’m like, ‘Look, I’m stubborn as fuck and hard-headed, and I get that from you. So, like, it’s kind of your fault that I’m this way.”’