Robbie Koch likes to say he has one big tattoo.
Koch, the owner of Robbie’s Coon Tattoo & Body Piercing in West Point, counted once: He’s been tattooed by 63 different artists as well as himself. But that’s no longer the number he focuses on.
“The individual count is for people who do it for the wrong purpose, in my eyes,” Koch said. “For them, it’s only a number to compete or something. For me, it’s my art. It’s one piece.”
Koch, who moved to the U.S. from Nuremberg, Germany, and has owned Coon Tattoo since 2001, used to subscribe to a different philosophy. For years, he sought fame, praise and accolades. In 2008, he even broke a world record from his small Main Street shop.
But Koch is done with that life, he says. Though he’s got the talent to be a household name in the world of tattooing, his purpose has changed — for the better, he says.
“I don’t want to put myself first anymore,” he said. “I’m just happy sitting in my little corner and doing what people want me to do: make them happy.”
‘Good trapped’
Koch, who got his first tattoo at age 16, said initially, being tattooed was a way to rebel against his parents’ divorce and get attention by “looking hideous.” But all of a sudden, the art began to pique his interest.
“I got trapped — a good trapped,” Koch said.
In 1995, he moved to the U.S. at age 28 to be near his family. In 1998, he began to enter competitions sponsored by tattoo promoters and suppliers. The contests offered prizes for size and theme categories — people, animals, landscapes. Koch was best at realism, including American classics from the 1920s and ’30s. The awards started to pile up.
Somewhere along the way, he came into possession of a pet raccoon. Koch had “Lucky” all of three weeks before the animal reached maturity and Koch realized, well, he had a raccoon as a pet.
When he opened his store in 2001, he wanted to call it “Lucky Tattoo” or “Lucky 13 Tattoo,” but he was advised it was bad form to choose a moniker that matched an existing parlor’s name.
Hence, in Lucky’s honor, Coon Tattoo was born.
Twenty-four hours of hell
In 2008, clients from across the South converged on West Point with a singular purpose: to be part of a new world record.
At that time, Kat Von D, a Los Angeles-based artist and the subject of the TLC reality show LA Ink, held the honor for the most tattoos in 24 hours on Dec. 14, 2007: an even 400.
Koch wanted more. He set a goal of 600 tattoos in 24 hours.
He made sure the event wasn’t just a publicity stunt, devoting all proceeds from the $20 tattoos to the Make-A-Wish Foundation. Mike Sullivan of Starkville, who helped coordinate the event, said its charitable nature helped combat the stereotypes of people with tattoos.
“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Sullivan said. “People have got good hearts regardless of how they look.”
At noon March 28, it was time. Customers filed into Koch’s shop in rapid succession. The tattoo artist had assistants helping people in and out of his chair, and others handed Koch sterilizer and other supplies. Koch’s wife Lynda handed him food and drink when needed, but still, his mouth and kidneys ached from dehydration. The repetitive motion of the needle took a toll on his hands, too.
“It was hell,” Koch said. “You wear yourself out badly.”
The only thing that kept him moving, he said, was knowing where the money was going. With already around $3,000 in donations before any tattoos even took place, Koch was ultimately able to hand Make-A-Wish a check for $15,602.
With 577 tattoos, Koch hadn’t quite met his goal of 600. Still, he’d shattered Kat Von D’s record.
“It was a tremendous undertaking,” Koch said.
‘The only one I trust’
Koch knows no day in the tattoo chair will ever be as hectic as that one. He’s glad for it.
He’s turned his attention away from seeking renown and competition to simply making his subjects happy, which has allowed him to create more lasting memories of those who sit in his chair.
Take the 87-year-old woman from Aberdeen who’d been told by her doctor she didn’t have long to live. A member of the high society who felt like she’d done everything right, she told Koch what she could no longer wait to have: a small ladybug on her shoulder.
She died three weeks after the tattoo, and when she was displayed in her casket at her memorial service, the ladybug was showing — to make a statement, Koch said.
And though not every tattoo he’s ever made is perfect — “I’m not a machine; I’m a human being,” Koch said — he’s developed a great reputation among clients in the Golden Triangle.
“Literally, he’s like the only dude who I’ve ever met who you can bring the best work of art ever to, and he makes it better,” said Sullivan, who had several previous tattoos improved by Koch and got new ones, too.
That’s why, after more than 10 years since his last tattoo from Koch, Sullivan is going back with his daughter, who wants her first tattoo for her 18th birthday in November.
“He’s literally the only one I trust to put my daughter’s first tattoo on her,” Sullivan said.
“Nowadays, there’s tattoo shops everywhere,” he added, “but I still want to go to him.”
Theo DeRosa reports on Mississippi State sports for The Dispatch. Follow him on Twitter at @Theo_DeRosa.
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