Tattoo artist Janet Thatcher had a calendar full of bookings for weeks in advance when the city studio where she works had to close last month.
She, along with many other professionals across the city, has no option but to wait for this lockdown to end.
Her profession, one involving an unusually personal transaction between artist and client, can't be carried out virtually.
But she suspects that, like the rest of the creative sector, she and the other artists who work in the same thriving Civic studio, will be something of an afterthought as the city gradually re-opens.
"The last time we had a lockdown, I think they opened brothels before they opened tattoo studios," she said.
Fortunately, she has a parallel career as a visual artist, selling her popular large-scale, hyper-real wildlife paintings in galleries and online.
She's built up a reputation through her body of work; one of her paintings is a finalist in this year's National Capital Art Prize.
But like many artists, the road there has been long, winding and unpredictable.
A born-and-bred Canberran, although she was always artistic, she said she received little encouragement from her teachers; one even went as far as to tell her not to bother pursuing a career as an artist.
But she gave it a go nonetheless, avoiding art school but building up her own successful practice over the years.
Once she decided to escape the solitude of her studio and pursue tattooing, she underwent a two-year, unpaid apprenticeship at Freestyle before she could have her own clients.
But she says the job is constantly rewarding, and she's not surprised that the studio's clients, both current and prospective, are unusually impatient for it to re-open.
While she's inked her fair share of shockers - VB cans, Thai inscriptions, even a pair of matching goldfish on the bum cheeks of two best mates (they were drunk when they got the idea) - it's the moments of beauty created to transcend pain that make her job worthwhile.
"Because of the kind of art that I do, I've been really lucky that I get to work a lot with people in a really personal way," she said.
"Someone that's lost a child or going through difficult times ... I do a lot of self-harm scars. We get a lot of those in, maybe five a week, it's a really high number.
"Another one is miscarriage tattoos and artwork. People will get something that symbolises a baby that's lost, because they feel that they are unheard when it comes to miscarriages. Having something physical makes a big difference to them."
She said clients were usually prepared to be both physically and emotionally vulnerable in her presence.
"You might be exposing yourself a little bit more than what you're used to," she said.
"That means you've got to trust your tattooist enough to be vulnerable like that. And it's permanent."
- Support is available for those who may be distressed by phoning Lifeline 13 11 14.