Joe McDonell

I designed my throat tattoo when I was drowning in silence. An hourglass bleeds from a horned skull into a head below—half living, half dead. Above the blood, a face. Beneath it, a skull. Time devours us all, but this? This was me taking it back. The vines stretch up my neck like survival. Chrysanthemums bloom on either side—symbols of grief and rebirth. At my jawline: Momento Vivere. Remember you live. My best friend, my mentor, inked it into me like my own kind of resurrection.

If my ink could speak, it would whisper, “I am the pain you buried, the time you lost, the breath you fought to keep.” It would scream, “You lived—when you didn’t think you would.” It would laugh like survival and bleed like truth. It would say, “I remember every version of you, even the ones you had to kill to grow.” It would point to the blood, the skulls, the flowers and say, “You’re still here. Still breathing. Still becoming."

If I won the $20,000 cash prize, I’d invest it straight back into the art that saved me. I’d upgrade my equipment, travel to learn from the best, and open a space where people can tell their stories through ink—just like I did. I’d offer free sessions to those who need healing more than a price tag can measure. This wouldn’t just be a win for me—it would be a chance to give others what tattooing gave me. I want to give back and pay it forward, spread Ink joy!