Land Speed Record

Margaux flew in from Portland with a suitcase full of punk patches and airplane dust. She lives her life like a mixtape: travel, noise, art, and anything that involves a board strapped to her feet. The kind of person who accelerates into the unknown.

Our first consultation was over Zoom. Two generations apart, but the same sparks lit up the screen. We realised pretty quick that we speak the same strange language. The one made of scribbles, riffs, and half-formed ideas that somehow make perfect sense once ink hits skin.

We didn’t script this project. That’s not how either of us works. Each morning of the sessions, we’d sit down, drink coffee, talk about whatever was rattling around in our heads, and decide what the next few inches of her skin wanted to say.

It felt more like building a collage than designing a tattoo. Rip-and-tear energy. Punk spirit. Adventure humming under the surface. No straight lines unless they asked for permission.

By the end, what we made wasn’t just a pair of sleeves. It was a road movie stitched into skin. Raw, fast, restless. Margaux’s world, filtered through my hands, running full throttle toward whatever comes next.