In Memory of My Friend and Teacher, Mikhail Alyukov.
Last night, I saw him in my dream.
It had been years since I’d heard his voice, but there he was, vivid as if no time had passed – alive and happy. It was as if that night opened a portal, letting his spirit ride in on the wind.
He was riding his motorcycle in a wide, open square – circling, swerving, performing stunts with the same effortless skill and daring I remembered from years ago. I stood on a kind of balcony, watching, smiling, a mix of joy and worry rising in me.
We exchanged a few words – I can’t remember exactly what he said, but it was so unmistakably him: quick, lively, sharp-edged with humour, and free as the wind. Then, without hesitation, he leaned into another dangerous turn. I almost shouted for him to stop, afraid he might crash – but in the same moment, I remembered: he couldn’t get hurt anymore. He had already crossed to the other side.
Maybe it was the timing – the Lion’s Gate had just closed that night, and the energy was still powerful, raw. Or maybe some days are simply chosen. All I know is that I woke up with a deep certainty: I needed to write a tribute article to my friend. My teacher. My brother in spirit – Mikhail Alyukov.
Flashback: Meeting Mikhail
It was the mid-90s, back when tattoos in our part of the world still carried a certain underground edge. That’s when I met Mikhail.
He wasn’t just a tattoo artist; he was a legend. Hyperactive in the best way, fearless, creative, and never still for long. His passion for his craft was matched only by the speed of his motorcycle. On his stomach, he had a tattoo that read “Dead Pilot.” It wasn’t just ink – it was a statement. He lived fast, unafraid of risk, fully aware that his time here might be short. He even used to say he’d leave this place early. Sadly, he was right.
Building My First Tattoo Shop
Mikhail wasn’t just someone I knew in passing – he was my teacher, my friend, and the one who opened the door into the tattoo world for me. After finishing a course with Mikhail at his Bizzart Tattoo in Jerusalem – a place that felt like part art studio, part rock-and-roll bar, and part underground club, where I learned the craft, absorbing not just techniques but the spirit of tattooing. His only condition was simple: I couldn’t open my shop in Jerusalem. When I told him I planned to set up in Tel Aviv, he smiled and accepted it. And when the time came, he didn’t just give me his blessings – he rolled up his sleeves, gathered a few friends, and brought tools, music, and an infectious burst of energy. In one single day, we built my first shop from the ground up. I can still see it: laughter bouncing off the walls, sawdust in the air, the scent of fresh paint mixing with the thrill of a dream becoming reality. He made it happen faster – and with more joy – than I could have ever imagined.
Fast and Furious
Mikhail wasn’t just a tattoo artist; he was a whirlwind of energy, an untamed spirit.
He’d often come to visit. Sometimes, we’d barely hang up the phone before I’d hear the roar of his motorcycle outside the shop. He’d say, “Note the time,” while hi start his motorcycle by his shop and by the time I made a coffee, there he was, helmet off, grinning. He could ignite his bike in Jerusalem, and within 15–20 minutes, he’d be parking it at Yarkon 17 Tel Aviv. That was Mikhail – distance meant nothing to him when he wanted to see his friends.
From 1995 to 2004, I learned from him – not just about art, but about living without chains. Mikhail didn’t believe in playing safe. He believed in riding fast, laughing loud, creating boldly, and meeting life head-on.
His Spirit on the Road and in Life
He didn’t just ride a bike – he became the ride. Every trip was an adventure, every meeting an explosion of stories, ideas, and plans. His life was movement, speed, and connection.
Beneath the adrenaline, there was also a deep generosity. He shared knowledge, tools, time, and heart. He gave without hesitation and expected nothing in return.
When the news came that he had died in a motorcycle crash, I wasn’t shocked – but I was shaken. He was so young and yet in those years, he had lived more than many do in a lifetime.
I didn’t see him again – until last night.
Returning to the Dream
And so, last night, when he appeared in my dream, it wasn’t just a random memory. It felt like he was checking in, reminding me of the days when we were young, bold, and ready to ride anywhere life took us.
I don’t remember every word he said, but the feeling of freedom and that unstoppable fire stayed with me.
Maybe the Lion’s Gate had something to do with it. Or maybe friendship don’t obey the same rules as time and space. Either way, this is for him.
Mikhail Alyukov – friend, teacher, and the fastest rider I ever knew.
You left early, brother, but we still ride together.
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