I am Galina Srebreva – Gall. Tattoo artist and painter at Gall Tattoo Studio in Lyubimets. This is the story of how I got here, and why every tattoo I make starts with trust.
The drawing of my mother
One of my clearest childhood memories is from an art class. The task was to draw the person we loved most. I drew my mother.
The teacher took a few of the drawings to show to another class. A child there looked at mine and said: “That’s Galya’s mum.”
I don’t remember whether the drawing was especially good. I only remember the feeling. Someone had recognised a person I love just from the way I had drawn her.
Back then I didn’t think about talent or style. I just drew. But today I understand that even then, drawing was a way of seeing the person in front of me. Not just their face, but something of who they are.
The choice that wasn’t safe
When I had to decide what to do after school, my father wanted me to become a lawyer. I understand him better today than I did then. To him, law meant security: a profession, a clear path. Drawing didn’t look like that. No one could promise it would work out.
It wasn’t one conversation. It was a real struggle that kept coming back. He was afraid I would choose an uncertain life. I slowly became afraid of something else: choosing a safe life that would never feel like mine.
When the person across from you is your father, his doubts weigh on you. I asked myself: what if he’s right? But every time I came back to the same question: what if I never try? That scared me more.
I couldn’t promise I would succeed. I only wanted the chance to find out. In the end, he gave it to me. The more time passes, the more I appreciate what he did: letting your child take a path you yourself are afraid of. No guarantee, only trust.
That is how I set out towards art. Not with a big plan. With one decision.
The first line on real skin
I graduated in fine arts, and my attention gradually turned to tattoos. I have always been drawn to the idea of a person carrying art on their body. Not hanging on a wall, not tucked in a sketchbook, but part of them. A tattoo lives with a person, moves with them, ages with them. And it stays.
My first tattoo on a living person was on my brother. And of course I didn’t pick something small. I remember the storm: fear, excitement, adrenaline, doubt. And a strange calm, because it was my brother in front of me. (“Well, at least he won’t be mad at me… right?”) Beside me was someone I trusted, a true perfectionist in his work.
The first line on a real person is hard to forget. There’s no sheet to throw away. No new canvas. There is skin, and a person who has let you leave something on them forever.
The result wasn’t “wow”, and there’s no point pretending it was. But I left that day with one clear feeling: I want to do this again, and next time I want to be better. I love that day. Not because I made the best tattoo of my life, but because I made the first. And because the first person who trusted me with his skin was my brother.
What my own line looks like
Over time I understood that a good tattoo doesn’t start with the machine. It starts much earlier: with observation, with conversation, with understanding what the person actually wants to carry on their body.
You can execute someone else’s design beautifully, down to the last detail. But if you always follow a line someone has already drawn, sooner or later the question comes: what does mine look like? Not “can I do this tattoo?” but “how would I draw it?”
That is why freehand draws me so much. Not because it is more impressive, but because there is no ready-made line to hide behind. In front of you is a person, their body, their idea, sometimes just a few words. And you have to find the form inside them: where the line begins, where it curves, where it stops, and where to leave air. Then comes the moment when there is nothing left to overthink. You place the first line.
That is what truly moves me: trust on both sides. The person trusts me. And I have to trust my own hand.
Who I work for
I don’t want people to come to me with just a photo and “I want this”. I want them to come with an idea, a story, a symbol, a feeling. Something they can explain but cannot yet see. To hear what they tell me and give it form. To create something that didn’t exist before that conversation, that belongs to the person in front of me, but in which my hand is recognisable too.
I don’t want to be the tattoo artist who does everything for everyone. I want to be the right artist for people who look for something personal and for work with character, and who are ready to give the artist the two things true creativity can hardly happen without: freedom and trust.
Trust
I still draw. I am still searching, and I still have a lot to learn. I don’t believe in the moment an artist says “I’ve found myself”. When you stop searching, you start repeating yourself.
When I think about it, much of my path is about trust. First my father gave me the chance to choose drawing. Then my brother trusted me with his skin. After him, people who didn’t even know me did the same. And I am still learning the last part: giving the same trust to myself.
I don’t know what my work will look like in ten years. I know where I am heading: towards work that is more and more my own. Towards drawings that start with a conversation, not a screenshot. Towards more freehand. And towards the courage to find the line myself, and to place it.
In short
- 6 years of tattooing, a background in fine arts.
- Fine line, black and grey realism and freehand, always custom.
- I tattooed at Bulgaria Tattoo Expo 2024 in Sofia.
- Trained and certified to work with the laser; I also do laser tattoo removal.
- Gall Tattoo Studio, 20 Tsar Osvoboditel St, Lyubimets. Mon–Fri 11:00–18:00, Sat–Sun 12:00–16:00.
Have an idea, a story or just a feeling? Tell me about it – or see my portfolio and drawings.