Stepping into Broken Crystal Tattoo Studio is like entering a vibrant kaleidoscope, a stark contrast to the stereotypical, gritty tattoo parlors of the past. Owned by the talented Sam Jannetty, this Milford, Connecticut studio is more than just a tattoo shop; it’s a haven for artistic expression and a beacon of inclusivity, particularly within the queer community. While Sam recently created a buzz online with a playful “IYKYK” scissor tattoo for a fellow lesbian, her studio’s name itself, “Broken Crystal,” hints at a deeper aesthetic – one that resonates with the delicate precision and unique beauty often associated with crystal tattoos.
“Queer-friendly? That’s just who we are,” Sam states, waving towards a screen displaying Rick and Morty, a playful nod to the shop’s relaxed and unconventional atmosphere. Rainbows explode throughout the space: a fan unfurls its vibrant colors beside a quirky “NUGS, NOT DRUGS” poster, a tapestry depicts UFOs in rainbow hues, and even Pokémon figurines in a bowl offer a whimsical welcome. The studio’s exterior is just as inviting, with sheer rainbow curtains transforming the sunlight into a dazzling display of color that dances across the tiled floor, making it impossible to miss in the suburban strip mall.
Bathed in this rainbow-tinted light, Sam, a walking canvas herself with around thirty-five tattoos and ever-changing neon hair, embodies the spirit of Broken Crystal. “Don’t worry about being too close,” she laughs, gesturing casually as I adjust my phone to record our conversation, “I’m loud as hell.” Her openness and warmth are as much a part of the studio’s charm as the vibrant decor and, perhaps subtly, reflect the clarity and intricate detail one might expect from a crystal tattoo artist.
Sam Jannetty photographed by Lukas Flippo at the Broken Crystal Tattoo Studio, showcasing her arm tattoos and the colorful, eclectic environment of her shop.
Sam’s own tattoos, though not explicitly “crystal tattoos” in design, showcase a similar eclectic and personal style. Her forearms are canvases filled with stories: a nostalgic red Pac-Man shared with siblings, a protective moth enveloping her elbow, a whimsical ice cream cone topped with a skull, a cheerful alien befriending a cat, and even a miniature fish tank – a playful nod to her own small bladder. Many of these were gifts from fellow artists practicing their craft on her skin, creating a patchwork of styles rather than a unified theme. Interestingly, despite the permanent nature of these creations, Sam is refreshingly self-critical. Pointing to a rainbow gradient bar on her arm, she recounts, “When the artist started, and I saw the ink bleeding, I thought, ‘Oh, shit.’” She shrugs, laughing at the imperfection, a reminder that even in permanent art forms, there’s room for spontaneity and embracing the unexpected, much like the unique formations of broken crystals.
Broken Crystal, co-run with her sister Chloe and a colleague, opened its doors in April 2021 and quickly attracted a devoted, predominantly queer clientele. Sam’s journey into tattooing began around her college graduation, five years prior, and was marked by a disillusionment with the traditional, often exploitative, tattoo industry. Choosing to bypass the traditional apprenticeship route, she opted for tattoo school but found it lacking in genuine instruction and heavy on tuition fees. She honed her skills through self-practice, countless hours spent tattooing fake skin and fruit rinds. Eventually, she joined a New Haven tattoo shop, an experience that highlighted the stark contrast to the inclusive environment she now cultivates. The shop was dominated by men, some of whom exhibited unprofessional behavior towards female clients. Sam, self-described as a “hundred-footer” in terms of her visible queerness, felt immediately out of place. “I was the show pony of the shop,” she recalls, highlighting the feeling of being tokenized rather than valued for her artistry.
This experience fueled Sam’s desire to break away from the rigid norms of traditional tattoo culture. Tired of the hypermasculine environments prevalent in many shops, she saved up and ventured out to create her own space. “They’re all the same,” she observes about these traditional shops. “You walk in, and there’s a motorcycle up front. There’s some creepy-ass version of metal music in the background, all these guys around. It’s like a sit down, shut up, get tattooed kind of thing.” Broken Crystal is the antithesis of this – a space where individuality and self-expression are not just tolerated, but celebrated, perhaps even mirroring the multifaceted nature of a crystal, reflecting light in countless directions.
Photo of the interior of Broken Crystal Tattoo Studio by Lukas Flippo, showcasing the colorful and eclectic decor that creates a welcoming atmosphere.
Sam’s time at her previous shop also exposed her to a range of unusual tattoo requests. She recounts instances like a gay man wanting the f-slur tattooed inside his lip in an attempt to reclaim the word, and couples seeking cliché matching tattoos. While generally non-judgmental, Sam does draw a line, recalling turning down a request for a butterfly tramp stamp that would begin in the client’s ass crack.
“Sometimes I’m like, you really want to get this shit on you right now?” she admits with a sigh, adding, “But if you want it, you want it. Go for it.” This philosophy of personal autonomy and embracing individual choices is central to Broken Crystal’s ethos, a space where clients can explore their tattoo desires without judgment, perhaps even seeking designs with the clean lines and intricate details reminiscent of crystal tattoos.
My own journey into the world of tattoos began a couple of summers ago, coinciding with my exploration of dating women for the first time. My first tattoo, a delicate line drawing of two koi fish designed by my queer, Chinese childhood friend, was intentionally placed on my visible arm. This decision was a conscious step in reclaiming my body, which had become a source of tension during lockdown. In the confines of my childhood bedroom, I had become hyper-aware of my body’s changes, oscillating between weight gain and loss, experimenting with hairstyles and colors. My focus shifted from conforming to societal beauty standards aimed at male attention to simply wanting to feel different. A visible tattoo became a symbol of this personal transformation.
Looking back at old photos from my dorm room, I see a past self I barely recognize. The girl in those pictures, laughing in a hot pink dress, or leaning in to kiss a boy, seems like a different person – lighter, more conventionally feminine, and undeniably straight. Tattoos, in this context, became a way to outwardly express an inner shift, much like choosing a crystal tattoo style might be a deliberate aesthetic choice reflecting a desire for clarity and precision.
My family, with no prior tattoo experience, initially met my decision with apprehension. My mother worried about career prospects, a concern I gently dismissed by pointing out the limited professions that still frowned upon tattoos. However, her ambivalence mirrored my own internal questions. Would I regret the design? How would it age with my skin? The thought of wrinkles distorting the koi fish design brought a moment of unease.
The tattooing process itself is described as a uniquely monotonous pain, akin to repeated microscopic bee stings. As the needle punctures the dermis, injecting ink, the body’s immune system responds, but the tattoo particles are too large to be eliminated, resulting in a permanent mark – a deliberate wound worn as art. This permanence, this intentional marking of the body, became a powerful concept as I felt the machine buzz against my skin, closing my eyes and embracing the transformation.
Within Broken Crystal’s vibrant chaos, Sam’s workspace is a study in organized functionality. Miniature figurines of monkeys, unicorns, and skeletons stand guard among sterilized needles, gauze pads, and Vaseline on a simple black shelf. A preserved orange peel, adorned with faint practice scratches of fish and flowers, sits proudly in a glass case – a testament to Sam’s artistic journey. This juxtaposition of playful decor and professional precision mirrors the artistry of crystal tattoos, which often combine delicate aesthetics with meticulous execution.
In this meticulously organized nook, Sam shows Tatiana, her client for the day, a custom iPad design. Tatiana, like many clients, found Broken Crystal through word-of-mouth recommendations for queer tattoo artists. The initial design is a bare outline, lacking the shading and detail Sam will later incorporate. Flowers are a specialty for Sam, often drawn from memory.
Photo by Lukas Flippo of Sam Jannetty tattooing a client at Broken Crystal Tattoo Studio, showcasing her focused artistry and the clean, organized workspace.
Once Tatiana approves, Sam creates a stencil using carbon-based paper and washable ink. This stencil guides the tattoo placement and serves as the template for the actual tattooing process. After shaving and disinfecting Tatiana’s calf, Sam applies a thick, purple goo before pressing the stencil onto the skin. Peeling it away reveals the design: a delicate sunflower with a stem forming the cursive name of Tatiana’s late aunt. Sam’s patience is evident as she recounts clients’ indecisiveness regarding placement, always prioritizing their comfort and confidence in the final decision. Thankfully, Tatiana is happy with the initial placement.
Watching Sam work, I learn that tattooing is a lot like painting, and Sam, a lifelong artist who attended an arts high school, is a practiced impressionist.
Observing Sam at work reveals the artistry inherent in tattooing. Her background in art school shines through as she approaches the process like a painter. She begins with a delicate outline of the sunflower, meticulously tracing each petal and the slender stem. She favors a handheld needle, feeling more like a paintbrush than the heavier, vibrating traditional machines. Once the outline is complete, she layers in colors, starting with the lightest shades and gradually building to darker tones, blending them into the skin with a watercolor-like effect. This meticulous and layered approach is reminiscent of the precision and detail found in crystal tattoos.
Surprisingly, Sam reveals she suffers from carpal tunnel syndrome, causing hand discomfort during tattooing. Despite this, her typically vivacious demeanor transforms into focused concentration as she works. She holds the tattoo gun steady, applying Vaseline to ensure smooth ink application, and regularly checks in with Tatiana’s comfort. “You hanging in there? Does that hurt?” she asks, genuinely concerned, before returning to her focused artistry. Sam expresses her aversion to causing pain, “I hate hurting people,” she admits, “even though that’s my job.”
Sam vividly recalls the pain of her own first tattoo at 18: a large, multicolored dream catcher inspired by Disney’s Pocahontas, encircling her back. “You know, ‘Colors of the Wind’ and blue corn moon and all of that stuff?” she reminisces.
Photo by Lukas Flippo showcasing a close-up of Sam Jannetty tattooing, highlighting her focused expression and the tools of her craft.
The full-color tattoo took three grueling hours, feeling like a “hot knife” against her back. The experience was further compounded by the stereotypical tattoo shop environment: metal music, skulls, a motorcycle parked outside, and a cliché “greased-back hair” artist. Ironically, the shop was named COMMITMENT. She dramatically spits out the word, highlighting the disconnect between the shop’s name and her experience.
“Why did you choose to get more tattoos?” I ask, “Thirty-four more, to be exact?”
“It’s like having a kid,” she replies nonchalantly. “No one likes being pregnant. No one likes [childbirth], but you like [kids] when they’re 18 and out of your house. And then they’re here to save you later.” This analogy, though humorous, underscores the enduring nature of tattoos and their ability to become cherished parts of oneself, much like the lasting beauty and perceived permanence of crystals.
The word “tattoo” originates from the Tahitian “ta-tu,” meaning to write or mark, reflecting the ancient practice among Pacific Islander communities. For Indigenous peoples, tattoos held profound significance beyond aesthetics, serving as protective talismans and permanent records of lineage and social status. However, 18th-century Europeans, despite their fascination, viewed these intricate markings as primitive oddities. Colonizers exploited tattooed individuals, displaying them in “human zoos” at world’s fairs, reinforcing prejudiced views of non-Western cultures as “uncivilized.” Juxtaposed with displays of industrial advancements, these “human zoos” cemented colonial narratives of Western superiority, misinterpreting tattoos as a mark of the “Other.”
The perception of tattoos in the West shifted with the invention of the tattoo machine, making the process more accessible. Simultaneously, Western military presence in the Pacific introduced tattoos to soldiers, many of whom returned home adorned with dragons, geishas, and patriotic symbols. Tattoos gained popularity among veterans, working-class men, biker gangs, and queer subcultures. They evolved into symbols of subversion, resilience, pride, and resistance against societal marginalization. This history of tattoos as markers of identity and rebellion resonates with the current queer tattoo scene, where artists like Sam are reclaiming and redefining tattoo traditions.
Photo by Lukas Flippo highlighting arm tattoos, symbolizing the personal and expressive nature of body art.
My own discovery of the queer tattoo scene revealed a vibrant community of artists, particularly artists of color, challenging tattoo stereotypes. Like Sam, they reject hypermasculine, Orientalist, and Eurocentric tattoo traditions. Their designs are often delicate and detailed, drawing inspiration from Gothic art, Asian art forms, and queer subcultures – styles that often echo the intricate and refined aesthetic of crystal tattoos. Visiting queer bars and clubs in New York City, I observed a celebration of body art, with arms and legs adorned with both monochromatic and colorful designs, alongside other markers of queer identity like mullets and unconventional fashion.
Simultaneously, I immersed myself in feminist and queer theory, embracing the concept of body modification as a form of subversive self-expression. I began to see my body as a site of political statement, a canvas for celebrating difference. This realization fueled my desire for tattoos, a way to shed my past “straight body” and embody a visibly queer identity – the one I had suppressed for so long through conformity and self-denial. I hoped tattoos would be transformative, a symbolic rebirth. Walking out of the studio with my new koi fish tattoo, I felt a sense of renewal, a reclaiming of self.
Perhaps this is what I wanted when I got my first tattoo, then another, and another: to destroy and incinerate my straight body, to coax out a new visibly and conspicuously queer body—the one I had hidden for so long by growing out my hair, painting my nails, throwing up, starving myself, wearing bodycon dresses, and sleeping with men.
During her senior year of college, Sam developed feelings for her roommate, an experience she describes with wry humor as “Stockholm syndrome.” Despite knowing her attraction to women for some time, this relationship prompted her coming out. In high school, she had avoided dating, feeling a disconnect from her friends’ crushes on boys.
I relate to Sam’s experiences of ambivalence towards male attention, a disinterest in hyperfemininity, and intense female friendships that masked romantic feelings. “I mean, I showed up to this girl’s doorstep on Valentine’s Day with frickin’ flowers and a teddy bear,” Sam recounts with a cringe, highlighting the often-unacknowledged queer experiences within seemingly straight narratives.
Sam navigated life as a seemingly straight woman for years, growing up in communities where queer women were scarce. She adopted a conventional appearance, minimizing her true self. Ironically, she was even voted prom queen. It wasn’t until opening Broken Crystal that she found a queer community and began to outwardly express her identity. She embraced a more visibly queer style, with shorter hair and arms adorned with tattoos, and began dating her girlfriend, Sara.
When asked about societal reactions to her coming out, Sam recounts an encounter with a Christian proselytizer at Walmart who criticized her tattoos as “not what God wants.” Sam’s defiant response was to declare she had demon wings tattooed on her back and planned to tattoo her face next.
“I’m going to Hell for a lot worse than my tattoos,” Sam laughs. “I’m gonna go down for being frickin’ gay.” This anecdote underscores Sam’s unapologetic embrace of her identity and her willingness to challenge societal norms, a spirit reflected in the inclusive and boundary-pushing environment of Broken Crystal Tattoo Studio, where even the concept of a crystal tattoo can be reimagined and personalized.
On a previous visit, I noticed a tattoo on Sam’s left arm featuring two overlapping cards: “THIS TATTOO IS PERMANENT” and “THIS BODY IS TEMPORARY.”
“What does that mean?” I inquire.
“This? Oh, I just thought it was funny,” she begins, then pauses thoughtfully. “But my whole thing is: if you want it, you want it. If you want a tattoo just because it looks cool, go for it. It’s a memory. Obviously there are some stupid tattoos, but people do stupid things every day. I mean, I’m driving a Jeep every day.” She gestures towards her Jeep in the parking lot, adding with a laugh, “Them shits flip.”
“People are obsessed with making their tattoos perfect because it stays on your body forever, and then I have to explain to them that their bodies are not perfect to begin with. But that’s okay—it’s good to have your tattoos a little bit crooked, because our bodies are a little bit crooked. There’s something comforting to me about that permanence.” This perspective embraces imperfection and the fleeting nature of the physical body, while valuing the enduring power of art and personal expression, whether it’s a whimsical design or an intricately detailed crystal tattoo.
For my final visit to Broken Crystal, I decide to get a new tattoo. Without overthinking it, I arrive at the studio on a bright November morning, envisioning a flower design. My thoughts drift to the flower that shares a name with my first girlfriend.
Sam arrives in her olive green Jeep with Sara, her girlfriend, whom she’s eager for me to meet.
The morning unfolds with warm conversation as Sam prepares to tattoo me. She cleans my forearm with her gentle care, the rainbow light from the curtains casting colorful reflections. As the needle begins its work, Sam and Sara share humorous stories of past roommates, almost distracting me from the sensation on my arm. It’s a welcome respite from “reporter mode,” allowing me to simply enjoy the moment.
“I think that’s done,” Sam announces, dabbing Vaseline and revealing the finished tattoo. “Do you like it?”
I look down at the detailed stem and realistically rendered petals of the flower, appearing almost sun-kissed. I do like it. In fact, I love it.
