The surging popularity of tattoos has undeniably normalized what was once considered a fringe practice. While tattoos have become increasingly mainstream and commercialized, a dedicated niche is emerging, harking back to the roots of tattooing as a folk art tradition. This movement values the grit and authenticity of a bygone era, reminiscent of pre-war industrial times when hard work and genuine craftsmanship were paramount. It was a time when tattoos were not just adornments but earned badges, telling stories of adventure and experience. Think of sailors bearing sparrows earned through arduous voyages or the roughly etched figures of women, souvenirs of distant, hazy nights. Today, a new wave of tattoo artists is passionately reviving this ethos. Recently, I had the opportunity to visit one such artist, Cris Cleen, at his studio, Idle Hands Tattoo, nestled in San Francisco’s Lower Haight.
Upon entering Idle Hands Tattoo, I found Cris Cleen deeply engrossed in sketching at a tilted drafting table. The name “Cris Cleen” seemed aptly chosen, as the artist himself presented a strikingly clean and polished appearance, even dapper. His style evoked images of 1930s street figures, bootleggers, and wanderers from the Dust Bowl era, figures often captured in stark black and white photographs. However, it quickly became apparent that Cleen is no relic of the past. Despite the vintage aesthetic, he confessed to owning “three computers and an iPhone,” acknowledging the clear drawbacks of those romanticized times, noting, “lights caused fires and people threw their trash out the window.” Yet, a palpable appreciation for the values of that era, particularly the ethos of the American Dream, permeates his work and persona. Even his brief account of moving from Iowa to California with his brother and mother echoed narratives reminiscent of Steinbeck, adding to the overall captivating aesthetic and the folksy, patchwork quilt-like quality of his tattoos.
Interestingly, Cleen is entirely self-taught, having never pursued formal art education, nor did he initially aspire to be an artist. Even now, he resists the label, stating, “I like to come up with ideas and put things together… I’d rather have a good idea than a good drawing.” At one point, his ambitions leaned towards law enforcement, a revelation that speaks to his character, admiring the courage of cops to “defend something.” And in a way, Cris Cleen is indeed protecting something: his artistic integrity. He is not one to compromise his vision for the sake of pleasing others and values directness, stating, “I don’t want to be suicidal when I’m 30 because I’ve been a people pleaser all my life.” While his peers were, in his words, “fucking off and spending their parents money,” Cleen was establishing his career, starting tattooing shortly after turning nineteen. He can’t pinpoint a specific catalyst that drew him to tattooing, admitting to having “no frame of reference” initially. However, the moment he encountered tattoo flash art, he was instantly captivated. He describes being drawn to the “dichotomy of a skull and a rose next to each other,” the seemingly random juxtaposition of images that immediately resonated with him. In essence, tattooing became Cris Cleen’s calling.
Cleen deeply appreciates the “folk sensibility” inherent in traditional tattoo art. He believes that the increasing commercialization of tattoos has led to an undesirable over-refinement, arguing that “over stylization is dead.” He gravitates towards designs that possess a timeless appeal, “stuff that’s always going to be beautiful…like roses and girls.” In this sense, Cris Cleen is a constant seeker of timelessness in his art. He views tattoos as akin to permanent jewelry, adornments rather than defacements of the skin. He dedicates his nights to meticulously crafting drawings for his clients, focusing not on appealing to the “tattoo collector” but to the “every man” who simply desires a beautiful, enduring tattoo. He also critiques the tattoo industry’s tendency to overly emphasize a working-class persona. Cris Cleen does not identify as a working-class hero. Instead, he sees himself as part of an elite tradition of craftsmen. This perspective brings us back to the emerging niche of the misfit tattooist. In the 21st century, there’s a clear rebellion against some of the more questionable trends in tattoo history, such as tribal patterns and overly mechanical, Geiger-inspired designs.
Cleen cites his artistic influences as originating from the turn of the 20th century and the early 1900s. He draws inspiration from sources like the Saturday Evening Post and early 20th-century illustrators such as J.C. Landecker and Norman Lindsey, the Australian artist known for his sensual and often controversial artwork. For Cleen, art inherently possesses a certain power and allure. He explores the essence of male desire in his work. The women depicted in Cleen’s tattoos often possess an enigmatic, almost underworldly quality, as if inhabiting a hidden, decadent realm, perpetually in a state of undress and allure.
To illustrate his craft firsthand, I recall getting a tattoo from Cris Cleen for my sister’s 25th birthday. After a week of email exchanges, we settled on a simple yet classic design: a rose. Upon arriving at Idle Hands Tattoo, I requested to add my sister’s name beneath the rose, which he readily accommodated. The resulting tattoo was exquisite. Cris Cleen’s tattoos truly are like precious, permanent keepsakes, embodying the enduring appeal of traditional tattoo artistry.
