BY ALEXIS PEARMAN
I’ve been getting tattooed since I was 17. I was into punk music and always wanted to be covered in them. In 2009, I got my first tattoo machine off of eBay in Australia. It came with a DVD on how to use it, but I never watched the DVD. It was one of those old-school knockoff Bishop machines that are really loud. I tattooed friends as a party trick, but didn't take it seriously for years. In lockdown, my ex wanted me to tattoo them, so I did. My American friends were like, “Woah, you have a tattoo machine?” Then it just snowballed from there.
JULY 5, 2026
JULY 5, 2026
KEE KEE JAMES:
ARIES SUN, ARTIST RISING
BY ALEXIS PEARMAN
I was met by the sun as I stepped out of the East Broadway stop on my way to Vacation Forever– a tattoo shop opened by the Australian-born Kee Kee James in 2024. The studio immediately welcomes you into Kee Kee’s vibrant and psychedelic world, with its painted pink facade and neon “Vacation Forever” signage in the window. Inside, you will find art-covered walls and resident artists tattooing amongst the smell of incense and chatter. Here, irony is the rule, painting death jokes pink.
I first visited her shop-turned-gallery on a Thursday evening when a bunch of hot, sometimes Aussie, heavily-tattooed people gathered to celebrate the opening of Zach Grear’s exhibition, Endless Bliss. Kee Kee has hand-built a space for herself within her eclectic community of creatives and she knows how to curate a vibe. Wanting to learn more, I went to the shop around noon, after the open bar turned back into the usual tattoo beds.
When asked about her history with drawing, Kee Kee, along with resident tattoo artist Pickles, began to laugh. “Shes an artist, but says she can't draw, which is obviously not true” Pickles responds, challenging Kee Kee's hesitancy to label herself. “Im not an artist and I can't draw” she confirms with a laugh. Wanting to be in on the joke, I asked Kee Kee more about how she defines herself, her approach working with clients, and the origins behind her tattooing practice.
Alexis Pearman: What do you mean you're not an artist and you can't draw?
[From across the room, Pickles adds that Kee Kee also faces stress from the tattoo community about what art is and what drawing is.]
KEE KEE JAMES:
ARIES SUN, ARTIST RISING
Dirt Club Zine sat down with Kee Kee James to talk tattoos, classical art, and staying in your own lane.
Kee Kee James: I can't draw classically. I can draw, but it's in my own way and my own style. I'd say I'm artist-adjacent, maybe an artist rising? It all stems from high school when my mom and art teacher told me “you can’t paint, you can't draw, and you're not creative.” It's because I have my own way of doing things.
Do you really? Tell me more.
If you don’t learn a certain way, and you don’t tattoo a certain way, and you don’t follow these white men rules on how to do art, you are apparently not an artist. Most tattoo artists come from the school of tattooing, where you have a traditional apprenticeship. I didn't do it that way.
How do you tune out this noise?
It's hard not to listen to the outside noise. It's people from the same community who aren't staying in their own lane because they don't have much going on, or don't think I deserve it because they think they deserve it. The overachiever in me wants to prove everyone wrong, but sometimes I think: girl, let’s just chill.
Kee Kee and Pickles
Besides being headstrong, why keep drawing?
It was just so fun and people really resonated with it. Once I started putting my tattoos out there, I was booked so fucking fast. People really loved what I was doing. If no one loved it, I probably would’ve stopped.
Do you do any other kinds of art?
Sculpture. I had a fashion label for 10 years inspired by the colors of Missy Elliot music videos and The Nanny. I also ran an art gallery and put on music festivals and events. Everything that I've ever done in my life is now channeled into this shop.
How has this studio in NYC impacted your artistry?
It made me weirder. It made me lean into myself and be more unapologetic. I became more of a confident person who knows my art is the shit. Art can't be for everyone, it's the same with being your own person. Everyone who works here is attracted to this place because I made it. Anyone who doesn't like it can suck a dick.
What is your zodiac sign?
Aries, obviously.
Obviously. So how did you get into tattoing?
Obviously. So how did you get into tattoing?
I’ve been getting tattooed since I was 17. I was into punk music and always wanted to be covered in them. In 2009, I got my first tattoo machine off of eBay in Australia. It came with a DVD on how to use it, but I never watched the DVD. It was one of those old-school knockoff Bishop machines that are really loud. I tattooed friends as a party trick, but didn't take it seriously for years. In lockdown, my ex wanted me to tattoo them, so I did. My American friends were like, “Woah, you have a tattoo machine?” Then it just snowballed from there.
You make art across many mediums and could put your work in a gallery for instance. What about tattoos specifically stuck with you?
I don't think my style could be in a gallery. If I did an exhibition I don't know what my artist statement would be, maybe just “I make art.”
Tattoos are just less serious. I like how silly it can be, you can get something dumb and it doesn't have to be that deep. I just pick things that look cool that I like. I have “NO FUN” tattooed on me for a friend who passed away. He was a graffiti artist and would tag “NO FUN” everywhere, so I got that. It’s serious in a way that’s still silly.
Anyone I've fallen in love with has something on my body. Now I call it Kee Kee’s graveyard. It's funny though, once you get so many different people on you, when bad things happen or you break up, you just move past it.
Where do you typically draw inspiration from?
I go through different obsessions—Japanese airbrush artists from the ‘80s, ‘90s anime, Indian movie posters from the ‘60s, vintage matchboxes and rice bags, and the packaging of Chinatown produce boxes. My style started with those airbrushed nail ads all over Sydney in the ’90s. I save a bunch of references, start with one, and end up pulling others in.
I did an Away suitcase that started from a 1960’s image where this woman's face was centered between two cats. I watched the loop of how I started drawing on my iPad, and you see how I rubbed it all out and started again. Watching that was cool because I was like, “Huh, that's where I began.”
I am always at an art gallery. I love modern art. I don't really give a shit about classical art. I know I should. I like what we have on our walls now, a classical version of modern things. There are only so many paintings of Jesus I can see. You've seen it once, you've seen it twice, you've seen it a thousand times. I want things that are weird and look like I could do that. But I hate when people say, “I could make that.” I'm like, “Yeah, but you didn't.”
How do you balance your artistry with your clients' vision?
When someone goes, “I love your work,” but sends me a reference that is so not me, I will prompt them more and ask, “What do you love about my work?” I make them think a little bit more to pull out what they actually like from my stuff.
I've learned people want what they want, and don't understand what they’re asking for. They think artists can do everything. It would be like going to Monet and saying, “Yo, can you do this Mondrian piece?” Make it make sense. People don't see it like that in the world of tattooing.
With my own tattoos, I'll let the artist do whatever they want because that's the best work. If you go in with an idea, it's never going to be cooler than what the artist draws.
Sometimes people book just because they like my vibe from Instagram or TikTok, and I seem approachable. If they say that, I'll tell them I can do this fine-line thing, but I'm not the best at it. But if you want my forte, I will fucking nail it.
I took some of Kee Kee’s unapologetic doer energy with me as I stepped back into the sun, hoping to use it to find my own balance between the silly and serious. Kee Kee’s success in the tattoo world is proof of the importance of not limiting yourself by other people’s definitions and old versions of yourself.
Dirt Club Zine sat down with Kee Kee James to talk tattoos, classical art, and staying in your own lane.
Alexis Pearman: What do you mean you're not an artist and you can't draw?
Kee Kee James: I can't draw classically. I can draw, but it's in my own way and my own style. I'd say I'm artist-adjacent, maybe an artist rising? It all stems from high school when my mom and art teacher told me “you can’t paint, you can't draw, and you're not creative.” It's because I have my own way of doing things.
I was met by the sun as I stepped out the East Broadway stop on my way to Vacation Forever– a tattoo shop opened by the Australian-born Kee Kee James in 2024. The studio immediately welcomes you into Kee Kee’s vibrant and psychedelic world, with its painted pink facade and neon “Vacation Forever” signage in the window. Inside, you will find art-covered walls and resident artists tattooing amongst the smell of incense and chatter. Here, irony is the rule, painting death jokes pink.
I first visited her shop-turned-gallery on a Thursday evening when a bunch of hot, sometimes Aussie, heavily-tattooed people gathered to celebrate the opening of Zach Grear’s exhibition, Endless Bliss. Kee Kee has hand-built a space for herself within her eclectic community of creatives and she knows how to curate a vibe. Wanting to learn more, I went to the shop around noon, after the open bar turned back into the usual tattoo beds.
When asked about her history with drawing, Kee Kee, along with resident tattoo artist Pickles, began to laugh. “Shes an artist, but says she can't draw, which is obviously not true” Pickles responds, challenging Kee Kee's hesitancy to label herself. “Im not an artist and I can't draw” she confirms with a laugh. Wanting to be in on the joke, I asked Kee Kee more about how she defines herself, her approach working with clients, and the origins behind her tattooing practice.
"If you want my forte, I will fucking nail it"
-Kee Kee James
Kee Kee and Pickles
[From across the room, Pickles adds that Kee Kee also faces stress from the tattoo community about what art is and what drawing is.]
Do you really? Tell me more.
If you don’t learn a certain way, and you don’t tattoo a certain way, and you don’t follow these white men rules on how to do art, you are apparently not an artist. Most tattoo artists come from the school of tattooing, where you have a traditional apprenticeship. I didn't do it that way.
How do you tune out this noise?
It's hard not to listen to outside noise. It's people from the same community who aren't staying in their own lane because they don't have much going on, or don't think I deserve it because they think they deserve it. The overachiever in me wants to prove everyone wrong, but sometimes I think: girl, let’s just chill.
Besides being headstrong, why keep drawing?
It was just so fun and people really resonated with it. Once I started putting my tattoos out there, I was booked so fucking fast. People really loved what I was doing. If no one loved it, I probably would’ve stopped.
Do you do any other kinds of art?
Sculpture. I had a fashion label for 10 years inspired by the colors of Missy Elliot music videos and The Nanny. I also ran an art gallery and put on music festivals and events. Everything that I've ever done in my life is now channeled into this shop.
It made me weirder. It made me lean into myself and be more unapologetic. I became more of a confident person who knows my art is the shit. Art can't be for everyone, it's the same with being your own person. Everyone who works here is attracted to this place because I made it. Anyone who doesn't like it can suck a dick.
How has this studio in NYC impacted your artistry?
What is your zodiac sign?
Aries, obviously.
You make art across many mediums and could put your work in a gallery for instance. What about tattoos specifically stuck with you?
I don't think my style could be in a gallery. If I did an exhibition I don't know what my artist statement would be, maybe just “I make art.”
Tattoos are just less serious. I like how silly it can be, you can get something dumb and it doesn't have to be that deep. I just pick things that look cool that I like. I have “NO FUN” tattooed on me for a friend who passed away. He was a graffiti artist and would tag “NO FUN” everywhere, so I got that. It’s serious in a way that’s still silly.
Anyone I've fallen in love with has something on my body. Now I call it Kee Kee’s graveyard. It's funny though, once you get so many different people on you, when bad things happen or you break up, you just move past it.
I go through different obsessions—Japanese airbrush artists from the ‘80s, ‘90s anime, Indian movie posters from the ‘60s, vintage matchboxes and rice bags, and the packaging of Chinatown produce boxes. My style started with those airbrushed nail ads all over Sydney in the ’90s. I save a bunch of references, start with one, and end up pulling others in.
I did an Away suitcase that started from a 1960’s image where this woman's face was centered between two cats. I watched the loop of how I started drawing on my iPad, and you see how I rubbed it all out and started again. Watching that was cool because I was like, “Huh, that's where I began.”
I am always at an art gallery. I love modern art. I don't really give a shit about classical art. I know I should. I like what we have on our walls now, a classical version of modern things. There are only so many paintings of Jesus I can see. You've seen it once, you've seen it twice, you've seen it a thousand times. I want things that are weird and look like I could do that. But I hate when people say, “I could make that.” I'm like, “Yeah, but you didn't.”
Where do you typically draw inspiration from?
How do you balance your artistry with your clients' vision?
When someone goes, “I love your work,” but sends me a reference that is so not me, I will prompt them more and ask, “What do you love about my work?” I make them think a little bit more to pull out what they actually like from my stuff.
I've learned people want what they want, and don't understand what they’re asking for. They think artists can do everything. It would be like going to Monet and saying, “Yo, can you do this Mondrian piece?” Make it make sense. People don't see it like that in the world of tattooing.
With my own tattoos, I'll let the artist do whatever they want because that's the best work. If you go in with an idea, it's never going to be cooler than what the artist draws.
Sometimes people book just because they like my vibe from Instagram or TikTok, and I seem approachable. If they say that, I'll tell them I can do this fine-line thing, but I'm not the best at it. But if you want my forte, I will fucking nail it.
"If you want my forte, I will fucking nail it"
-Kee Kee James
I took some of Kee Kee’s unapologetic doer energy with me as I stepped back into the sun, hoping to use it to find my own balance between the silly and serious. Kee Kee’s success in the tattoo world is proof of the importance of not limiting yourself by other people’s definitions and old versions of yourself.