Growing up in a conservative Muslim household, tattoos were a hidden world, a religious and cultural taboo. The mystery of concealed ink, like the black lines peeking from my uncle’s sleeves, hinted at a deeper, spiritual meaning. Now, my own skin tells a story etched in ink: names of lost friends, a portrait of Gaddafi, dates of struggle, and symbols of defiance. These tattoos, meant to be fully seen only in the quiet preparation before burial, are a personal testament to transformative ideas and experiences.
The question of motivation behind tattoos—self-expression or public display—is complex, especially when considering different cultural perspectives. The Japanese Yakuza offer a fascinating contrast. Their commitment to full body suits, hidden beneath collars and cuffs, embodies a philosophy of privacy and personal significance. This approach, rooted in Japanese humility, keeps the vibrant world of tattoo art discreet, separate from everyday public life.
Alt text: Legendary Irezumi tattoo artist Horiyoshi 3 in his Yokohama studio, a master of full body Japanese tattoos.
Horiyoshi 3, based in Yokohama, stands as a legend among Japanese tattoo artists, particularly revered by the Yakuza. Visiting his studio, I was met by men in Burberry suits, a glimpse into the Yakuza world he inks. Inside, Horiyoshi worked with intense focus, the air thick with the meditative buzz of his needle. The Yakuza members present, their occasional Japanese utterances punctuated by rhythmic hand slaps on the floor, maintained a respectful silence. Horiyoshi himself remained absorbed in his art, seemingly lost in a focused trance for over an hour before acknowledging my presence.
The client that day was a Yakuza boss, receiving a vibrant red Koi fish tattoo, a powerful symbol in Japanese culture. Offered a cigarette, I hesitated to intrude, but Horiyoshi, roused from his intense concentration by my anxious question, chuckled and invited me to relax and stay.
VICE: Why do Yakuza members choose you for their tattoos?
HORIYOSHI 3: The Yakuza demand the best – first-class in everything. From their attire to their companions and cars, pride and presentation are paramount. They seek quality, and that’s why they come here.
In the West, full body Japanese tattoos immediately evoke images of the Yakuza, a connection heavily influenced by media portrayals. While negative stereotypes often paint the Yakuza as villains, Horiyoshi offers a different perspective, highlighting their community contributions, especially their rapid aid during the earthquake, outpacing even the government’s response.
Alt text: A young Yakuza member prepares for a traditional Japanese full body tattoo session, embracing a heritage of artistry and symbolism.
Historically, tattoos in the Edo period served as punishment for criminals, marked with the Tokugawa symbol. Ironically, this punitive marking could sometimes be circumvented or brutally erased. However, within Yakuza culture and Irezumi tradition, symbols carry profound meaning, far beyond mere criminal association or superficial intimidation. These tattoos often depict elaborate scenes from mythology and folklore, narratives rich with cultural significance. Wearing symbols of punishment is seen as undignified, associated with petty crimes, contrasting sharply with the gravitas of true transgression in the Edo period.
Alt text: Master tattoo artist Horiyoshi 3 meticulously inks the ribs of a client, showcasing the dedication and precision of Japanese full body tattoo artistry.
Do Yakuza members see these mythological scenes as expressions of their true selves, beyond societal stereotypes?
Horiyoshi explains that visible tattoos as overt displays of gang affiliation are unsophisticated. The Yakuza’s tattoos are not primarily about public signaling. The term “ninkyō,” often associated with Yakuza, embodies the concept of supporting the less powerful. Traditionally, Yakuza tattoos symbolize the strength to aid the vulnerable, a personal declaration rather than a public announcement.
Horiyoshi's studio decorations and gifts
Are there tattoos you refuse to do?
Horiyoshi maintains boundaries, avoiding tattoos above the neck or on the hands. He believes true beauty resides in the unseen, shaped by personal history and cultural depth. Japanese aesthetics differ sharply from Western ideals. Even in concepts like seppuku (ritual suicide), there’s an appreciation for precision, simplicity, fragility, boldness, and weight. This aesthetic consciousness permeates tea ceremonies, flower arranging, samurai swords—a deliberate and profound style.
Why the emphasis on hidden tattoos?
For Horiyoshi, the taboo surrounding tattoos in Japan is intrinsic to their beauty. Like fireflies visible only in darkness, their allure lies in their hidden nature, unappreciated in plain sight. Once commonplace, beauty fades. While Western cultures might embrace tattoos as fashion, Japan values the hidden, the unseen, considering it the essence of beauty. Japanese culture thrives in shadows, unlike the bright openness of Western churches, Japanese temples are often dim and dark, emphasizing light through shadow. The shadows of Buddha statues are as significant as their faces. In Japan, tattoos are undertaken with the understanding they are often concealed, lending them a weight and significance beyond mere decoration. This spiritual dimension is unique: revealing a tattoo becomes a moment of unveiling a hidden, mysterious light.
Young Yakuza member's back tattoo
This fascination with darkness is compelling.
Horiyoshi sees attraction to darkness as inherent human nature, drawing parallels to the moonlit night, evoking superstition and allure. Japanese culture excels at using shadow to define light, a reverse perspective compared to Western cultures that often start with light to understand shadows. Traditional Japanese Noh theatre, performed by bonfire light, exemplifies this. The flickering flames reveal costumes shimmering with gold and silver thread, creating drama through shadow and light, lost in perfect illumination.
Japanese architecture also reflects this sensitivity to shadow, meticulously considering sunlight and the interplay of light and blinds to sculpt spaces.
Shige recommended the Sankeien gardens, which felt more like art than architecture.
Indeed, Japanese garden design, like Sankeien, is an art form, calculating the interplay of shadows, light, and seasons to paint the landscape throughout the year. This appreciation extends beyond tattoos to the natural world, like the mysterious beauty of moonlight reflecting on ocean waves, contrasting with the stark brightness of daylight.
Yakuza elder with a koi fish tattoo
Why do you hesitate to call yourself an artist?
Horiyoshi identifies as an artisan, a craftsman. He references the famous “sleeping cat” sculpture, Nemuri-neko, considered art, yet likely created by a craftsman who didn’t self-identify as an artist. He sees himself similarly.
Horiyoshi 3 portrait
The definition of art itself is elusive for Horiyoshi. He points to traditional Japanese scrolls where emptiness becomes the ultimate art form, inviting the viewer’s imagination. Modern art, like found objects in galleries, and even descriptions of art, blur the lines. Castles, swords, pottery—all can be art. He finds the Japanese tea ceremony undeniably artistic. Ultimately, the designation of art seems subjective, dependent on perception and value.
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