An expatriate in Canada for over 10 years, Greg Laraigne recently moved to Toronto. After a long stay in Montreal at the Imago studio, it is now in the city of horror film director David Cronenberg, at the Under My Thumb Tattoo studio, that the Frenchman is refining his European-influenced Japanese style. Impressed at the time by the work of Filip Leu and a number of other pioneers, he continued his exploration of Asian iconography, while at the same time getting his teeth into fine line and lettering projects. This versatility of skills, no doubt inherited from his old-fashioned training, also serves him well in his passion for music and his parallel activity as a singer-songwriter.
Hello Greg, can you please give me a little introduction?
I'm 42, from France, and I grew up in Gex, a small town between the Jura mountains and the Swiss border. When I was a teenager, I soon began to spend more time in Geneva (Switzerland) than in France. I spent those years building myself up, evolving as a young adult, finding my 'crew' after getting caught up in the punk-rock scene, skateboarding and, finally, tattooing. In the mid-90s, Gex wasn't exactly the capital of alternative music. So I made my mark as an active member of the Genevan skate/punk scene. I was the guy "not really from here, but not really from there", for some I was the "Frouze" (a pejorative adjective the French-speaking Swiss give to the French) and for others the "Genevois". It got confusing for everyone, even for me, so when people ask me where I'm from, I very often reply that I'm from Geneva, because it was really those pivotal years that shaped me, that defined me - it was through that experience that I began to have the feeling of finding myself, of existing.
You now live in Canada. How did your expatriation come about?
I've been living in Canada for 11 years now. I first moved to Montreal in 2012 and have been in Toronto since 2020. My expatriation went quite slowly, legally, and without too many pitfalls. But it took a long time and was expensive at the time. I had to be patient, try not to stress too much and curse the rusty workings of the Quebec and federal bureaucracy. I contacted an immigration lawyer and surfed from one visa to another for a few years before finally getting my Permanent Residency. It took 5 years. But I still got it quite easily compared with others. When you immigrate to another country legally and you see how slow, archaic and expensive the system is, you think a lot about immigration in the general sense of the term and the situation of some migrants who don't move by choice.
What was the tattoo culture like when you arrived there?
It was a shock. At once exhilarating and suffocating. Tattooing was booming and everywhere. In alternative circles but also in life in general. On the hands of the customs officer who signs your immigration papers; on the neck of the bank employee who helps you open an account; on the face of the barista in your neighbourhood. And above all there was a huge amount of quality, it was pretty crazy. When I arrived in 2012. Montreal was clearly a hub for Canadian tattooing on the international scene.
How did you get started?
It was a difficult start, mentally. You get the impression that you're arriving in a conquered land and I really lost myself at first, especially artistically. I saw so many beautiful pieces, all the time and in every imaginable style, that I didn't really know what direction to go in, what I liked and what I wanted to work on. Tattooing was at a turning point and specialisation was taking the place of versatility. It was an art but also a business where professionalism was paramount.
How have you grown professionally here?
Artistically and technically, I've learnt a lot, progressed, become faster and more efficient. This progression has taken place organically, working in an open-plan shop that's extremely well run, alongside seven talented tattoo artists with cutting-edge techniques, with regular visits from high-calibre guest artists. But the main lesson I've learned is about professionalism. I've learnt to be more organised and to treat my clients more fairly. There's a fine line between clients and friends, and when you spend hours investing yourself in someone's project, it becomes a comfortable adventure. As a tattooist, it's easy to slack off on your approach, your investment and the way you interact with your client. It's something special, cool and special that's the beauty of the business. But it's really important not to lose sight of the importance of what you're doing and the impact you're going to have on your customers. Staying professional, treating people honestly, offering them the best possible experience, following the rules of the trade and making an excellent tattoo, cleanly.
Have you always done Japanese?
I've always done a bit of Japanese, yes, but for a long time I kept it to myself because I felt it should be reserved for artists who deserved it. And I just didn't think I was there. It's very technical and it's a lot of work, there's a lot of knowledge to assimilate. Quite frankly, I feel like I'm just starting out.
Where does this attraction to Asian iconography come from?
Strange as it may seem, it goes back to my first encounters with tattooing in Switzerland. I was immediately immersed in a sea of influence from artists such as Filip Leu, Mick from Zurich, Wido from Marval and Nico Cennamo. These tattooers (and in particular the Leu family, who were based in Lausanne at the time) put a serious dent in the sacred gates of Japanese tattooing in Europe. Tattooers from all over the world - including Asia - came to watch, get tattooed and learn from tattooers like Mick and Filip, the Swiss pioneers in this field. The impact of their work was impossible to ignore. And then in the alternative scene, you saw their tattoos everywhere, and their names travelled all over the world. What attracted me the most was the way this type of work dresses the body. And then the personal investment in time, pain and discomfort that are inevitable when you take on large-scale projects like an arm, a back or a bodysuit. And of course, a perfect flow, elegant aesthetics and visual power can't leave you indifferent. When I started tattooing I became interested in symbolism and stories. I went to Japan to visit, absorb, learn and get my hands on stories, books and reference objects. It was so rich that it was fascinating. Even today, the more I learn and the more my eyes sparkle, the more I want to learn.
How popular is this style in Canada?
Japanese is extremely popular. There's a mind-boggling number of talented and respectful artists in such a vast territory. And each of them has their own style, flirting with the traditional and the neo-Japanese. It would be impossible to name all the artists working in this style in a city like Toronto. It's great for sharing and moving things forward. Unfortunately, the trend for large pieces, loyalty to a single artist and the desire to make bodysuits are all on the wane. The fashion is for collections. It's not a bad thing, in fact it's quite cool, but it's a different approach, a different look, and humanly speaking it's not the same adventure. I have absolutely no regrets about my choices or my tattoos, they've built me up, but with the experience I have today, I would have liked to wear a bodysuit made by one and the same artist.
At the same time, you remain open to other styles (lettering, fine line). Is this a legacy of the old-school tattoo culture, when tattooers knew how to do everything?
Absolutely, when I started tattooing, there wasn't really any specialisation, there was no social media or online portfolios. If you wanted a portrait, a name, or any other style, you went to your local tattooer. I kind of miss those days. It was humane and enriching, and you learned a bit every day. I didn't really have a choice when I started, I wasn't drawing at all, I wasn't that creative, I didn't have an artistic approach, so I learned to do everything. I love tattooing in the general sense of the word. I find pleasure in doing any tattoo on a cool, respectful person, as long as we have a good time.
Can you tell us about your affinity with lettering and fine line?
These are styles I particularly cherish because I didn't choose them. It's quite the opposite. I started doing a few when there was demand for them at the time, when I was tripping over graffiti, lettering in general, and the Californian tattoo aesthetic. Then there was more demand. Like the Japanese. The more I did, the more interested I became, the more I enjoyed it. And the more it motivated me to work. I spent hours making pages and pages of letters and words, hours and hours leafing through typography books. I've always loved the look of a fine line tattoo and its authenticity. And then you needed technique, it was a fun challenge. I loved it, I still do, but I'm concentrating on Japanese at the moment.
It seems to me that you did your apprenticeship the hard way at first. Can you tell us about it? What benefits did you get out of it?
I'm not sure that "the hard way" is the right word. Let's just say that my apprenticeship was easier than some, but also more difficult than others. For two years, I worked in the shop where I was an apprentice six days a week from 9am to 7pm. I was a bit of a handyman. I did the shopping, the cleaning, I managed the stocks, the customers and the diaries, the telephone enquiries, the sterilisation, I spent whole days soldering needles. I fetched coffees, food etc... All this without pay, putting up with one or more little humiliations every day... I worked evenings when I could and Sundays to pay my bills.
What was it like for you?
We accepted it, we put up with it, it was more or less the price we had to pay to have the right to make a place for ourselves in this business. Apprenticeship places were limited, and it was almost impossible to buy equipment if you weren't a recognised tattooer, legally registered or in a shop. So apprentices of my generation took what they found as an opportunity and they took it with the feeling that it was a chance. It was an unsettling and difficult period, full of drama but also some amazing experiences. Let's just say I've got a lot of cool and not-so-cool stories to tell... But I learnt an amazing trade, from A to Z. It opened doors for me that I'd never had before. It's opened doors I never thought would open and I've had some pretty incredible moments. I'm happy to have assimilated and learnt some important basics, which are no longer basics for new generations, such as soldering my needles or sterilising my tubes (which I still do). It's no longer a necessity, but there was a charm about it nonetheless.
After working for a number of years at Imago in Montreal, you decided to move to Toronto. What were your needs?
I was at a turning point at Imago and needed a change. I could very well have stayed, opened new doors and developed professionally, but life chose otherwise. My partner lived in Toronto, her life, her future motivations and the language barrier didn't allow her to move to Montreal. I already had the basics when it came to challenges, I spoke English and I knew how to start afresh in a new city, which is culturally different. I was already familiar with these difficulties. Then, after two and a half years of a long-distance relationship, Covid came along and the first four-month confinement meant we couldn't see each other. So we decided to take the next step. I moved to Toronto, for 'Love'. I'm currently based at Under My Thumb Tattoo, a really cool, relaxed studio with a human touch and excellent artists who work diligently. I've really hit it off.
What memories do you have of Imago?
I have some incredible memories. It's a magnificent shop, a temple, dedicated to tattoos, one of the most interesting and professional shops I've ever been lucky enough to see. I stayed there for almost ten years and I still go back there often as a guest artist. Safwan is a close friend of mine, and I've travelled the world with him to many conventions. I've kept excellent relations with most of the artists I met there and with my clients at the time. Imago is a difficult beast to tame, it's not an easy shop, it's artistically and humanly demanding, but it's a shop that only wants what's best for you, your success, that wants to see you progress, evolve, and that you can count on no matter what. It's a shop that becomes a family affair and that you never really leave, a shop that you love, that you would defend body and soul, internationally and for the rest of your life. I still attend conventions regularly, in my own name, but Safwan, the Imago crew and I are never very far from each other.
Apart from tattooing, you have a musical project. Can you tell us about it?
I've been playing solo for several years now, as a singer/songwriter under the name LARAIGNÉ. I've released two albums that surf between folk, alternative rock, indie punk and country. It does me a world of good to write and play. I try to tour as much as I can, but with tattoos and my relationship, it's hard to be on the road as often as I'd like. You can find all the info on www.laraigne.com and my albums on bandcamp and on all the digital platforms (under the name LARAIGNÉ with the accent) like Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon prime etc... I'm planning a European tour in 2024 and I've got two new singles coming out between now and then.
Music is a bit like the love of your life, isn't it? It seems to me that it's thanks to music that you come into contact with the tattoo culture.
It's clearly the love of my life, and above all it's what saved my life. I have lots of anecdotes where music and tattooing are linked, but my favourite is this one: 20 years ago, I had half a sleeve and a few other tattoos. Tattooing had never crossed my mind, I didn't think I had what it took. I was playing in a punk rock band called Hateful Monday, based in Geneva, and I was working for a booking and events agency as a tour booker and tour manager. I was planning to finish my sleeve and eventually do my second arm. I had some appointments booked. Following a bad decision by the boss, the company went bankrupt. The timing was terrible. My band and I were due to go into the studio for a month a few weeks later to record our first proper album. The company owed me several months' wages, and I was financially stuck. I couldn't really find a new job before the studio sessions. So I decided to put my tattoo sessions on hold. I went to see my tattooer to explain my situation and postpone the appointments, and then he offered me a deal: work for three weeks in the shop to help him before leaving to record, in exchange for free tattoo sessions. I accepted and stayed for seven years. + IG : @greg_laraigne
