Sandee Althouse entered a Silver Lake gift shop wearing a simple, almost austere black dress, her curly black hair graying at the temples. She carried herself like an older, accomplished woman, although a little serious, but with a touch of originality. Both of his arms were covered in freshly inked tattoos, his left arm still wrapped in glittery cellophane.
“Excuse me, but I have to ask: are these your first tattoos? » I spoke of the colorful images extending from the top of her shoulders to her wrists.
“They are,” she said proudly. “I’ve had them all since May.”
It was in September.
“I’d like to know more,” I said, curious as to what prompted so many tattoos, in such a short time, and all done later in life.
Sandee Althouse gets her 17th tattoo in five months, mostly famous 20th century paintings or historically significant neon signs.
(Juliana Yamada/Los Angeles Times)
It turns out that Althouse, who lives in the Bay Area, was on what she calls “a tattoo journey,” in what she describes as a deliberate act of self-care. She told me that her husband of 35 years, Josh Wallace, had recently been diagnosed with a serious illness and that Althouse, in addition to being heartbroken, had become her caretaker while also working full time as a radio host at KQED in San Francisco.
Getting a tattoo is a way for Althouse to refocus on herself, she told me, to stay strong and resilient – for herself and her family. Sitting in a tattoo studio chair and feeling the continuous prick of the needle for seven hours is a repetitive, almost meditative act that helps ground her in the present moment, she said. According to Althouse, this helps eliminate emotional pain, giving it physical form – a release of sorts.
“We are facing a serious diagnosis,” Althouse said of her husband. “It’s a new part of life. Something new has changed him and me, and I wonder why not do something that will take me to a new place, a new adventure.”
Searching online for tattoo images she wants to display on her body — mostly famous 20th-century paintings and historically significant neon signs — and deciding where they will go is a creative distraction in such difficult times, she said.
And chatting with the different tattoo artists as they worked on his body formed intimate personal relationships.
“There’s a sensual nature to it — human beings touching you,” Althouse said. “I don’t wear headphones; I like to have conversations. You meet someone new and they impose something permanent on you that will change you forever. It’s a very deep connection.”
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The journey so far – 17 tattoos so far – has brought nourishment and even inspiration.
Althouse recently explained all of this on a cold October afternoon while sitting in the chair at Ganga Tattoo Studio in West Hollywood. She frequently gets tattoos in the Bay Area, but also finds Los Angeles artists she admires on Instagram and takes “tattoo excursions” here.
Today she’s getting a tattoo of Edward Hopper’s 1957 painting, “Western Motel,” which artist May Soria is putting the finishing touches on when I arrive. All of Althouse’s tattoos are done in the detailed and realistic “micro-realism” style, and Hopper’s image is eerily similar to the original artwork. In the oil painting, a young woman in a red dress sits on the edge of a motel bed, tightly gripping the footboard. Huge windows overlook a classic car and a vast open mountain landscape to the west.
“I just feel like this woman has a little bit of mystery and strength,” Althouse says as Soria tweaks the woman’s leg. “She gives you a lot of freedom to decide what she thinks and says.”
So does Althouse, who has a deep, sultry radio announcer’s voice and often stops momentarily to ruminate deeply before answering questions.
1. Sandee Althouse shows off her arm tattoos of historic neon signs. 2. Pots of tattoo ink in a rainbow of vibrant colors. 3. Sandee Althouse’s completed tattoo of Edward Hopper’s ‘Western Motel’. (Juliana Yamada/Los Angeles Times)
“I want to be stronger, bolder, and I want to have wisdom — and I think those things are kind of represented by this,” she said of her tattoos.
Althouse had never considered getting a tattoo until shortly before a trip to Italy in May with her husband and two sons, Ethan Wallace, 29, and Xander Wallace, 27. Ethan is heavily tattooed and had been “stalking” her for years to get one, but she had no desire. Then, several weeks before the trip, involved in babysitting responsibilities and trip planning, the idea suddenly made sense. She found an image of an “old-fashioned” radio microphone and an “on-air” sign and took it to a tattoo studio in Rome whose work she had admired online. Artist Giorgia Mastrosanti tattooed it on the inside of her right forearm, a discreet but nonetheless visible spot.
“Last year I was inducted into the Bay Area Radio Hall of Fame, which is a very great honor,” Althouse said. “I wanted to document how I spent a good part of my life – and it was on the radio.”
Her second tattoo, which she received from Mastrosanti the next day, was of the neon sign of the Carlos Club in San Carlos on her right arm. A few days later, she received a 1940s Bakelite X-ray image on the inside of her left forearm.
In addition to working in radio, Althouse is a textile artist currently working on embroidery. “I’m really, really connected to art,” she said. “And that [tattoo journey] is a real artistic project in progress.
In late September, Althouse had two other famous paintings tattooed on the same “gallery wall” that is his left arm: Amedeo Modigliani’s “Young Woman (Totote of Gaiety)” from 1917 and Gino Severini’s “Sea = Dancer.” She was tattooed by Levi Elorreaga, an artist from Los Angeles who was then doing a residency at Black Serum, a studio in San Francisco.
“You get to middle age and you’re watched more – you’re not noticed,” says Althouse. “And I feel like I’m noticed now. I just like being noticed.”
(Juliana Yamada/Los Angeles Times)
“I have never been so captivated by a painting as with [the Severini]. Just the dynamism, there was so much movement – it almost sang,” she said.
Althouse’s right arm now features a handful of historic neon signs – among them the Li Po Cocktail Lounge in San Francisco’s Chinatown and the View Alcatraz sign. She is drawn to the brightness and vibrant colors of neon signs, adding that they are “incredible, underappreciated works of art.”
The process itself of designing the “art walls” on his arms is also healing: it provides joy and distraction. Althouse approaches this process as if she were a curator preparing a museum exhibition. She glues mock-ups – in this case, paper cutouts of the paintings – to her arm, fine-tuning the layout. She then gives her tattoo artist a digital image of the work.
During my visit, Soria worked from an enlarged image of the Hopper painting on his iPad. As part of the tattoo, Soria designed a mid-century modern wooden frame for the painting. She placed stencils of the tattoo on Althouse’s arm before starting that morning, fine-tuning the size of the tattoo and its placement.
“Actually, it doesn’t hurt much,” Althouse said, as Soria pricked his arm with a needle that had just been dipped in a pot of crimson ink. “Just a little phantom pain. You feel alive.”
Some people might look at her strangely when she is in the tattoo chair: “What is this old person doing?” she said. But subverting aging tropes is part of the joy of this journey.
“The people who receive [tattoos] “I understand,” Althouse said. “And I think maybe some people, especially young people, think ‘she’s a little badass.’ I like it. That suits me.
Navigating your way through the world, as a woman in your 40s, now feels different with tattoos.
“You get to middle age and you’re watched more — you’re not noticed,” Althouse said. “And I feel like I’m noticed now. I just like being noticed.”
1. Artist May Soria puts the finishing touches on Edward Hopper’s “Western Motel” alongside Sandee Althouse. 2. Sandee Althouse shows off her first tattoo, an old-fashioned radio microphone and an “on air” sign. (Juliana Yamada/Los Angeles Times)
Soria said she has several clients over 60. Getting a tattoo later in life makes sense for her.
“You have more life experience, so you have more stories to tell [through tattoos]”, she said. “You know what you want.”
As luck would have it, an older man in a baseball cap and rain jacket walks by, leaning in to take a closer look at Althouse’s tattoo in progress.
“Stunning. Just beautiful,” said Ames Beals, 70. He’s there to get one of his own tattoos cleaned, an image of a harmonica with wings. “Can I take a picture to show my wife? I want her to have one.”
“See? It’s never too late to get a tattoo,” Althouse said.
Althouse now lacks any available “canvas” on her body, as she mainly wants tattoos on her arms and legs. It has room for two or three additional people. The next step? a painting by Marcel Duchamp and, possibly, a work by Mark Rothko or Ruth Asawa.
As Althouse enters the fifth hour in Soria’s chair, the tattoo is almost complete. It will ultimately cost $1,500, but it’s worth it, Althouse said. (“That’s the other thing about getting them later in life, you have more money,” she added.)
She looks at herself in the mirror, a mixture of pride and melancholy on her face.
“I just have to keep supporting myself,” she said. “I need to make myself strong. Because it’s only going to get harder. And that…”
She runs her hand over one arm.
“…this reminds me to do this.”
