My Pilgrimage to Milan's Marco Materese, a Visual Virtuoso

Well worn arguments against tattoos have never held any weight in my eyes.

“I could never choose something that will represent me forever” some say, nose aloft. Tattoos may be permanent but they need not represent us for eternity. Rather, they are but time capsules that harken back to a phase of our lives when that particular image held significant meaning.

“How is that going to look when you are 70?” ask others rhetorically. We will all be old and wrinkled at 70, with or without tattoos. Will I later blame tattoos that I feel ostracized at over-70 pool parties? Somehow, I doubt it.

Given their permanence, I’ll admit that taste in tattoos is much more critical than taste in music or holiday reading.

While this piece champions virtuosic tattoos by an absolute paragon of visual art, I am quick to admit that many tattoos are, in fact, awful. However, I posit that tattoos are not to blame; the taste of the masses is.

Regardless of the arena, less than one percent of output is truly great, beautiful or meaningful. Just as the majority of tattoos are bad, so are the majority of films, pop music, books, and even meals prepared.

The mark of good art is the provocation of emotions within the beholder. Whether it’s a song that makes you dance, a book that brings you to tears, a movie that frightens you or a painting that draws you closer in wonderment, truly beautiful or meaningful art stirs emotions within. The deeper one feels that emotion, the greater the oeuvre.

Paradoxically, truly beautiful and meaningful art is often not commercially successful and commercially successful art is often not truly beautiful and meaningful. As a result, truly excellent works are enjoyed by the tasteful few while the masses blindly gobble up whatever the late-capitalist machine impels them to like.

As someone who cares deeply about art and design and devotes significant thought to it, I’m confident that my choices are considered, personal, beautiful and timeless. Perhaps this aesthetic confidence, whether earned or not, explains my proclivity for tattoos. Whereas those with less developed and nuanced views of art may prefer to simply abstain from the admittedly high-stakes game.

Shortly after my son Leo’s birth in 2019, I decided to pursue a tattoo project of a lion. Given that we were scheduled to move to Berlin, Germany in July 2020, I was focused on finding an artist in that city, which has a reputation for being a center of youthful edgy creativity.

As for style, I opted to eschew contemporary tattoo trends (such as new-again “old school” sailor-like tattoos or “fine line” minimalist styles) and settled on the etching style. This style mimics the printed result of wood block art work like those made famous by M.C. Escher, a childhood hero of mine.

Eventually, I found an artist in Berlin who produced lovely etching style tattoos and planned to reach out to him when we arrived.

My continued searches for etching tattoos eventually led to a truly unbelievable image which at first sight, I simply could not comprehend. The tattoo of two church spires on the calves of this man were incomprehensibly detailed and realistic. I've never seen any tattoo with that level of detail.

A few clicks later, I was now scrolling through photo after photo of masterpieces of visual art, which just happened to be in the form of ink on flesh. This was the body of work of Marco Matarese from Puro Studio in Milan.

From his website, I learned that after Materese finished his studies at the prestigious Brera Art Academy in Milan, he took a job at an antique dealer where he bought, sold and restored art, antiques and other collectibles. He only later realized that he could best convey his artistic vision through the medium of the tattoo and began this career rather later than most of his peers.

It’s not an exaggeration to say that I became enamoured with his work. When compared to even the best examples of other etching tattoos, Marco’s are lightyears ahead. From a technical perspective, his work is significantly more refined as the lines are thinner and there is much more detail. His best works also convey a sense of drama in a way that is unmatched.

As I scrolled through Marco’s work, the combination of the technical virtuosity and the neo-classical imagery drew me in with a sense of wonder and drama. This is exactly the type of timeless, beautiful art that I could enjoy for years to come.

I immediately opened up a new Google flights tab to check the frequency and cost of flights from Berlin to Milan. Setting my carbon footprint aside, I thanked the universe for the existence of Easy Jet and in the span of minutes, I witnessed a distant idea transform into a tangible plan.

But before writing to Marco to book my appointment, I would need to first refine my idea and placement. I searched for various lions for a long time, but I finally settled on the Lion of St Mark which is a winged lion that represents Mark the Evangelist and is the symbol of Venice. The symbol appears commonly in Italy such as on churches like Saint Mark’s Cathedral in Venice, on the Italian Navy flag and on NATO’s Naples headquarters.

I wrote to Marco to inquire about my idea of a winged lion in Marco’s trademark detailed etching with a background of sunlight and clouds. I received a reply from his assistant Chiara within a few days. She noted that Marco would be pleased to take on my project and we set the appointment for October 2021.

Unfortunately, due to the final significant wave of COVID in the fall of 2021, which included a lock down in Berlin, I had to push the appointment back to April 2022.

We finally touched down at Milan Linate airport on April 15th 2022. I was joined by my wife and my daughter who was five at the time. Despite being the muse for the project, given his age and the urban nature of the trip, we decided to leave my son Leo back in Berlin with his grandparents.

We made use of our first afternoon in bustling central Milan to visit the Duomo (which is tied with Opera Garnier in Paris as the prettiest building in the world), the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, and the leafy Brera neighbourhood.

Early the next morning we even booked a visit to The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci in the wholly unassuming Santa Maria della Grazzie church.

After our guided tour of The Last Supper, I said goodbye to my wife and daughter and boarded an orange and wood paneled streetcar that trundled towards the central station at a leisurely pace. I wish I could say the same for my unsettled heart.

Approaching the studio, I was immediately struck by the reality that I was about to receive a permanent operation conducted entirely in a foreign environment. Once inside, I will admit to being somewhat stunned by the animated and melodic Italian conversations, but also by the décor of Puro studio which was decidedly dark and gothic. The antique furniture was ornate and the grey walls were adorned with antique metallic symbols, animal skulls and other patina-ed curios.

I have since learned that Puro studio is inspired by the Wunderkammer, or chambers of wonders, which as the website describes, were a feature of noble dwellings of the upper middle class from 1500 onwards. They contained both unique objects from the natural world, called Naturalia, as well as man made creations from all over the world, called Artificialia.

After registering my name and filling out some standard forms, I was offered an espresso and told to wait in the repurposed theatre style seating in the entrance/waiting area/nerve chamber.

After a few minutes, a slim medium height man in his early 40s emerged from the back room, approached me and offered his hand with a warm but professional “Ciao”. Marco was dressed in black boots, black jeans, and a black sweater and had his shoulder length black hair tied in a man-bun. He wore a goatee, a lip piercing and numerous silver rings and bracelets. He also had two large highly detailed crows tattooed on his forearms, which I later found out were done by his mentor Brucius based in San Francisco.

There is no mistaking it. Marco is an original Italian artist - simultaneously confident and vulnerable, masculine and feminine, he seems to embody the legacy of his country’s hallowed artists and their innate knack for beauty and aesthetics.

We sat next to each other at his desk and began to discuss the project. He was quite pleased with my choice of the Lion of St Mark (‘bellisima’), but as I showed him photos on my phone of his other pieces to point certain aspects I wanted to incorporate into the design (specific clouds, shading), he curtly told me to pocket my phone. He has very strict rules for his work: no repeated tattoos, no colours, no letters whatsoever. By brushing his own past works aside, he demonstrated a true commitment to a bespoke creative process. He does not want to be unduly influenced by his past work. He rather wishes to be inspired by your vision, story and energy and then have a free hand to create the piece he deems the most beautiful within those parameters.

This might strike you as an over-reach on his part and I have to say I did share the same thought. Not only was he moving rather quickly as he selected an image of a winged lion from the St Mark’s Cathedral (rather than the one I had suggested), he was also conducting his supporting staff in incomprehensible Italian. While Marco examined and measured by arm, he shouted various commands to Chiara and Alexa. Within seconds lamps, lighting rigs and the work bench on which I would place my arm were adjusted to Marco’s specific wishes. My skin needed to be shaved and treated with alcohol. Marco’s work station, consisting of three small ink containers with various dilutions of ink and rose water, was set up.

Despite their best efforts, Marco repeatedly expressed exasperated disappointment with the performance of his staff. Along with Alexa and Chiara, I cowered in the presence of this creative genius whose quasi-manic state of inspiration was being rattled by fumbling underlings and logistical realities.

I’ll quickly describe Marco’s process. First the image is adjusted on the computer to be specific length and width of the desired body part - in this case my inner forearm. Next, the image is printed out on white paper and taped to the area so Marco and I (but mostly Marco) can decide how we like the size and placement. Next, Marco prints the image a second time on tattoo transfer paper, which is then stuck to the area creating an outline of the tattoo. Then he refers back to the original image and uses red marker on my skin to denote darker areas which will require etching. The darker the area, the more etching required.

Finally, he begins the tattooing process with his specific tattoo gun with a fountain pen-like tip which pleasantly produces very minimal noise.

What I loved most about Marco’s work is the etching. However, as he began to tattoo the lion, I couldn’t help but notice that he was placing significant detail into the wings and the mane of the beast. So much so, that there was little if any room to add etching on those areas. I recall looking down at my arm and being somewhat let down. Not only would the detailed wings and mane preclude any etching on those areas, but it was also very time consuming.

“Strong skin” Marco exhaled at one point.

“That’s good, right?” I asked.

“Well maybe, but it takes more time”.

Nearing the end of the piece, I did request more etching and he complied, but I must admit that I left Puro somewhat disappointed. My strong skin and Marco’s more detailed take on the mane and wings left no time for the background of clouds and sunlight that I originally wanted. In comparison to the epic full back pieces that routinely fill his Instagram page, my piece felt rather subdued.

My wife was very impressed with the piece and even felt that my concerns (the detailed wings and mane) were the strongest aspects of the tattoo. I joked that I could potentially return for a background of clouds and she suggested I ask if he might be available the next day. That next day being Easter Sunday, it goes without saying that I didn’t receive a reply.

Being the obsessive that I am, I simply couldn’t let it go. I finally reached back out to Marco and booked an appointment to return for the background nearly a full year after the original visit.

In the meantime, I continued to admire Marco’s work on his social media. While the subject of most pieces was simply too heavy for my taste, the technical virtuosity continued to floor me. “If I’m going back anyways, why not finally get a masterpiece?” I thought.

So I wrote back to Marco and his team and indicated my desire to keep the appointment to add the background to my lion but also to get a whole new piece on my other arm.

My idea for my masterpiece stems from the three years I spent working in at the Embassy of Canada in Washington, DC, which was directly across Pennsylvania Avenue from the Smithsonian American Art Museum. As you might know, the Smithsonian museums are free to enter, which is great for bored diplomats seeking a dash of artistic stimulus on their lunch breaks (or so I’m told).

On the first floor of the museum, there is a large wing devoted to sculptures. Despite the extensive collection of Rodins including an excellent bust of Gustav Mahler, my favourite piece is called “The Veiled Nun” by an unnamed Italian artist from the 1850s.

This bust is the one of most beautiful things I have ever seen. The tragically unnamed artist somehow manipulated extremely hard marble to capture both the lightness of the veil and the facial features beneath. I must have returned to admire this statue half a dozen times and I have the photos on my phone to prove it. For me it represents beauty and artistic execution at the highest level.

My original idea was to base my next tattoo on this statue. But as I researched more about it, I learned of another example from the same period by a Milanese artist named Giovanni Strazza, which I found even more beautiful in its composition.

As I began to research the piece, a number of facts jumped out at me.

1. The artist, Giovanni Strazza, was not only from Milan, but studied the Brera Art Academy, the same school as Marco Materese.

2. Despite being carved by Strazza in Rome in 1850, the statue has resided in Canada since 1856. Specifically, it was transported to St. John's in Newfoundland where it was received by Bishop John Thomas Mullock and placed in the Episcopal Palace next to St. John's Basilica.

Here is how the piece was described in 1856 by the local newspaper The Newfoundlander. “To say that this representation surpasses in perfection of art, any piece of sculpture we have ever seen, conveys but weakly our impression of its exquisite beauty,” the article reads. “The possibility of such a triumph of the chisel had not before entered into our conception. Ordinary language must ever fail to do justice to a subject like this – to the rare artistic skill, and to the emotions it produces in the beholder.”

As a Canadian living abroad, a tattoo with a link to Canada appealed to me. That Strazza and Matarese are not only from the same city but studied at the same Art Academy only added to the synchronicity. Finally, that the piece was an even better expression of the “wet drapery” sculptural technique that mesmerized me in Washington convinced me that I had found the subject for my masterpiece.

Indeed it was the sheer beauty of the Strazza piece, where her expression sits right on the line between peaceful and mournful, and my confidence in Marco’s execution, rather than any the religious symbolism that drew me it.

With a steadfast confidence, I requested an updated appointment for a piece based on the Veiled Virgin. Given its familiar design language, Marco loved the idea and offered me an appointment roughly five months later. He noted that it would likely take one and a half to two full days in comparison to the half day required for the Lion of St Mark. With quick math, I calculated that I could be ‘under the needle’ for up to 16 hours. Well, I reasoned, you wanted a masterpiece, didn’t you?

In March 2023, I again landed at Milan Linate, this time travelling alone. With my flight arriving at 10am, I had just enough time to drop my luggage at the Hotel Senato before walking twenty minutes north to Puro, passing through park Giardini Indro Montanelli along the way.

Despite my previous experience, the same feelings of nervous anticipation and of being an alien abroad returned when I entered the studio. My nerves were settled with an espresso, some water and small talk with some familiar faces who recognized me.

This time, however, I made good on my vow to be decidedly more firm with Marco, stopping him as he Googled other veiled virgin statues to specify that I only wanted the piece based on the image I selected (above).

While I had won that battle, his process nevertheless began to accelerate to its familiar clip. Out of a small drawer came a tailor's measuring tape which he used to measure my arm from shoulder to elbow. I heard him exclaim something like “Mama mia, 36 centimeter!”

The number was then typed into his computer, the image expanded and suddenly the printer was churning out the image on white paper, which appeared larger than I expected. As he taped it to my arm, Marco reassured me that the printed images always appear 10-15% larger than the final tattoo will. I expressed slight concern about the size, but also had faith in Marco’s experience and process. “Trust me” he said, “it will look best covering the entire upper arm”. I decided that this wasn't the time to suddenly lose faith in this artist who I so deeply admired. I was happy with the image and I would simply acquiesce to the size he suggested.

The familiar and chaotic routine unfolded where Marco barked out commands to his staff in Italian to which they panickedly responded. Making matters worse, Marco had a new staff member, Pavel, who didn’t look older than 19. Like a frightened squirrel he stood constantly at ready, almost quivering in anticipation of his next command to move the lighting rig, clean my arm, adjust the bench to the correct position, etc. Marco told me he was new and therefore he needed to be strict with him to instill discipline and adherence. Was he ever.

Pavel! PAVEL!!!

Marco must have yelled his name 30-40 times on the first day. He often ended his commands with “AL VOLO!” which I took in the context to mean “NOW!”

Poor Pavel was visibly terrified the entire time and even occasionally dropped an item or bumped into the lighting rigs further aggravating Marco’s irritation and plunging him deeper into nervous trainee abyss.

Given the scale and subject of the piece, I could quickly ascertain that Marco was approaching the project with a different level of focus and care. He even told me at one point “many artists have done this image, so I want mine to be the best”. As such, he often took breaks to contemplate the source image and solicited input from the other two resident artists a number of times to ensure he was correctly interpreting the shading and drapery.

I would be remiss not to quickly describe the other resident artists and staff. I’ll begin with Gino who like last time, wore mostly black, with extremely thick black framed glasses under a wide brimmed camel fedora. Any exposed skin, including his whole neck, hands, fingers and forearms are covered with tattoos. I can’t think of many people who could pull off his look without hesitation.

Georgina and Chiara were on tone wearing all black and with visible tattoos of the acanthus leaf which is a common decorative motif in baroque architecture. These stately leaves popping up over their neck line or out of their sleeves were quite beautiful in their elegance and simplicity.

The first day’s session ended at 7:30pm after which I went back to my hotel to rest for an hour before heading out into the Milanese night to grab a drink and bite to eat. Marco instructed me to only have a maximum of two drinks that night, but I reasoned that due to my size, I could push it to three.

I had an aperitif at the sceney wine bar called Nombra de Vin where Milan’s reputation for style and sophistication was on full display. Then I walked to Dry to enjoy a pizza and a final glass of wine.

In the morning, I stopped at Cafe Marchesi on the veritable catwalk that is Via Monte Napoleone for a cappuccino. Per local custom, I enjoyed it standing up at the bar along with the other prim Milanos presumably on their way to their desk jobs at Prada. After some boutiquing at Boglioli and Panerai, I visited the Modern Museum of Art which was on my way to Puro.

My final day at Puro was the most relaxed and enjoyable of all. Marco and I had gotten to know each other and settled into a comfortable banter. With the project well in hand, he seemed to enjoy the process of refining it and seeing it come to life. He continued to solicit input from Georgina as he put the final touches on the pieces, which demonstrated to me that he really wanted to get it right.

“Hey Google, play The Cure” Marco said at one point. Despite being a massive music nerd, record collector and former college DJ, I had somehow never delved into the new wave genre. I was pleasantly surprised by the experimental arrangements and hypnotic grooves in many of the Cure’s rock-pop hits. Known as the originators of the “goth” movement, it certainly fit well with the optics at Puro. That said, I found most of the music rather upbeat and cheerful and I instantly became a fan. I have since created a new wave playlist titled “New wave, who dis?” which I often play in the car when driving the kids to and fro.

But I digress. In the end, I am very happy with the results of both the Veiled Virgin and the Lion of St Mark. The background he added around the lion is exactly what I had originally envisaged and really expands and completes the piece.

The Veiled Virgin piece, albeit large, is very beautifully done and I love to look at her expression in the mirror in the morning to ponder whether she looks peaceful or mournful.

I left Puro at around 4pm on the final day which left me more time to explore Milan before my flight back to Berlin the next morning. I elected to visit Bar Basso where the Negroni Sbagliato or “messed up” negroni (made with prosecco rather than gin) was invented and continues to be served in a comically large goblet. As I sipped this famous drink at a renown bar in a world class city, I realized how lucky I am.

I was able to not only acquire but commission a true virtuosic masterpiece by a living genius that I will be able to enjoy for years to come.

As I left Puro a few hours back, Marco shook my hand and said “maybe I’ll see you for another one?” and I simply smiled and replied “maybe.” If you’ve read this far, you can probably guess that the likelihood of that happening is fairly high.

If you take anything away from this piece, let it be this: Life is short and unpredictable so devote your thoughts, time and resources to whatever stirs emotions within you. Have one or more passions and pursue them passionately. I can’t think of a better goal.

So get to it.

AL VOLO!!