The Man who Brought Piercing to the North Country

Vincent Tricozzi sold his car to open his own peircing shop and hasn't looked back since.

Story and photos by Rachel Hislop

Murphy greets you first, his charcoal grey feline body jumping swiftly on to the glass counter in front of the door of Vincent’s tattoo and piercing shop. He then steps from behind the black curtain of his tattooing section and into the waiting room, appearing like a tattooed surgeon with black latex gloves suctioned to his hands.  

Vincent Tricozzi Jr. is a tattoo artist, body piercing specialist and sole owner of his self-titled shop “Vincent’s,” located on Clinton Street in Plattsburgh, Tricozzi, a Fine Arts graduate of SUNY Plattsburgh, shamelessly refers to himself as the man who brought piercing to the North Country.

"“I sold my car to start my own piercing shop,” Tricozzi says. “That is my success story.”

“It was in 1994, a friend of mine and I went to Montreal and got our tongues pierced. I remember my friend lost his ball [a part of the hardware for the tongue ring] and we called all around the North Country and Vermont and couldn’t find anywhere that did piercing,” Tricozzi says.

Years after being an apprentice at In Living Color, a tattoo shop in Plattsburgh, and graduating from the piercing school, Body Designs, in Long Island in 1995, Tricozzi opened his own tattoo and piercing parlor.

“I sold my car to start my own piercing shop,” Tricozzi says. “That is my success story.”

Soft-spoken with a shy smile, Tricozzi is hardly what you would expect from a tattoo artist. His medium built frame is fit perfectly into his casual uniform of a black pin-striped collared shirt, with sleeves rolled up to showcase the strategically placed tattoos on his forearms and neck. His dark, shoulder length hair is tied back in a loose ponytail to prevent from interfering with his eye sight. A dark goatee compliments what should be the tough guy look that is offset by his friendly dimples.

“Oh, that’s Murphy,” Tricozzi says after beckoning to the cat, “he is old and he’s survived a fire. I was never a cat man, but me and Murphy get along well.”

“If you look at his eyebrow it is burned a little, and his side is still a little tender from the burns, even though it was years ago,” he says while pointing out irregularities on Murphy’s fur. Murphy remains in his napping position unbothered by all the commotion in his honor.

Tricozzi speaks low and pauses frequently as if he puts intense thought in to every word he fixes his mouth to release. His facial expressions match his monotone sentences, it almost seems as if he thinks so hard about what he is going to say, that he is exhausted by the words before they are released.  It is just a part of his charm.

“Vincent is a real hard worker,” says Tabitha Gillesipe who got her first tattoo done by Tricozzi. “From what I see, he pretty much holds the shop together with little help.”

Christiana James, who was also tattooed by Tricozzi agrees, “He was very precise in making sure my tattoo came out the exactly the way I wanted it,” James says of the small heart Tricozzi tattooed on her finger. “I am definitely going back to him again for my next [tattoo].”

"This shop is my life. I built it from the ground up."

Tricozzi recalls his first tattoo, a Pegasus that symbolizes freedom. “I got it when I was eighteen and I paid forty five dollars for it. I will never forget that.” Nor will he foreget the first tattoo that he ever inked. “It was a Japanese Kanji symbol, I was shaking and the man saw me shaking, but he didn’t say anything until I was done.”

Classic rock top-40s are playing in the tattoo studio, and Tricozzi admits that he himself is a musician and occasionally plays in a band named Hot Rod Lincoln that performs a fusion of blues shuffle music and some classics. “If I wasn’t a tattoo artist, I would probably be in some sort of graphic design, or maybe I would be an art teacher, that is still something I would want to do. Or, if I had a solid band, I would just travel and do music.”

Tricozzi is timid with admitting that he is the man responsible for Tim McGraw’s fiddle player, Dino Reed’s, shoulder tattoo.  “I tattooed him twice, once on a tour bus, and it’s cool because he wears these cut off shirts and the tattoo shows while he plays his fiddle.”

“It was a Japanese Kanji symbol, I was shaking and the man saw me shaking, but he didn’t say anything until I was done.”

Vincent’s shop is meticulously clean, and interestingly decorated. Pencil sketching on white drawing paper cascades down one portion of the wall before it becomes tangled in an artistic litter of miscellaneous photographs. A plastic butcher knife is mounted amidst an American flag, the knife reads “free tattoo removal,” and above it a neon pink awning states “Yes, it does hurt.”

“Those are some of the tattoos that I’ve drawn up,” Tricozzi intercepts. “I can draw almost anything on a good day.”

“This shop is my life," Tricozzi says “An extremely large part of my life. I built it from the ground up, I don’t come from money. I didn’t always know I was going to be a tattoo artist but I take pride in the art.”

On the way out, Tricozzi mentions his newest addition to the shop, Ali, an 8 week old boxer puppy. “I just can’t decide if I am a cat man or a dog man,” Tricozzi says, but it is clear that Tricozzi has decided that he is a man of his needle, a man that leaves a lifelong impression with not only his art, but his charming personality.

If you were to get a tattoo tommrow, what would you get and why?