Lars Krutak on Indigenous Tattoo Traditions

Kayan elder Ado Ngo displays her bold hand tattoos, Sarawak, Borneo, 2011. Song irang, the black spikes along her fingers, represent bamboo shoots, a fertility symbol. Â© Lars Krutak

Essay

Lars Krutak on Indigenous Tattoo Traditions

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Are the ways we look at Indigenous tattoos short-sighted? Anthropologist Lars Krutak says yes, because these ancient marks are much more than mere decoration. Transporting readers across Africa’s deserts and rainforests to the Siberian steppes and shores of New Guinea and beyond, Krutak reveals how tattoos serve as a powerful visual language. They help shape and sustain community identity by reflecting ancient cultural values, ancestral connections, traditional knowledge, and spiritual beliefs—each permanently inscribed in the skin. While many Indigenous tattooing practices are fading across the globe, a new wave of innovative cultural tattoo practitioners is rebuilding a skin-marking legacy for future generations to come. This book shares their stories and sheds light on one of humanity’s most vibrant, yet often misunderstood, forms of human expression.


What compelled you to write this book?

Lars Krutak: What seems to have been largely forgotten in contemporary discussions concerning the popularity of tattooing is the role that Indigenous Peoples played in the origins, art, history, performance, and perpetuation of this unique form of human expression. Long before tattoos became mainstream, they were deeply rooted in Indigenous traditions—used for storytelling, identity, history, and even medicinal practice. For thousands of years, these communities have etched human experiences into skin, one powerful mark at a time. But sadly, much of that ancient ink is fading fast, along with the knowledge that surrounds it. Over the past 30 years of doing this research, I’ve met many elders who were the last to wear certain traditional tattoos—people who have since passed, taking that part of history with them. To me, tattooing isn’t just art; it’s a vital piece of global cultural heritage. That’s why I’ve been racing against time to capture the stories and wisdom of tattooed elders, so their legacies—and the rich cultures they represent—can live on and inspire future generations.

Can you recall when you were first introduced to Indigenous tattooing, and how—if at all—those initial encounters influenced your later work?

LK: I have been fascinated with Indigenous tattooing practices since I encountered them in Alaska nearly thirty years ago. At that time, I was a graduate student in anthropology, and within weeks of arriving on campus at the University of Alaska Fairbanks I walked past a Gwich’in elder with three tattooed lines on her chin. Wanting to know more, I began exploring the vast archives at the university library and soon learned that, not too long ago, nearly every Indigenous community of the Arctic practiced some form of tattooing.

As I acquired more knowledge, I sought and obtained consent from Indigenous leaders, families, and tattoo bearers to focus my master’s thesis research on the tattooing traditions of the St. Lawrence Island Yupik people. In the mid-1990s, there were more traditionally tattooed elders—all women—living on this remote Alaskan volcanic island than anywhere else in the Arctic; the custom of male tattooing had disappeared many decades before. Most of these women were in their eighties and nineties, including one traditional tattoo artist, Alice Yaavgaghsiq, who was ninety-seven years of age.

Indigenous elder with tatoos on body.
Konyak elder Nokging Wangnao of Hungphoi village, Nagaland, 2018. His tattoos were earned for exploits in battle. © Lars Krutak

Working with the tattooed elders of Gambell and Savoonga (Alaska) taught me that tattoos were deeply tied to identity, family roots, social status, personal achievements, and medicine. They also connected people spiritually to their ancestors, the spirit world, and the animals around them. These tattoos weren’t just decoration—they were living stories, etched into skin, capturing what it meant to survive and thrive in one of the planet’s harshest environments.

When I realized this rich tradition was disappearing in Alaska, I had a feeling it was happening across the Indigenous world. So, over the years, I poured my own time and resources into traveling the world, visiting Indigenous communities on every continent to document what tattooing meant to them. I didn’t have a blueprint for this work—just the foundation laid during my time on St. Lawrence Island, which still guides everything I do today.

You write that we should think about Indigenous tattoos as a visual language of the skin. Why so?

LK: Indigenous tattoos embody a powerful narrative function that was fundamental in establishing personal and collective identity, and a person’s time and place in the world. They represented an individual like a name and transmitted aspects of a person’s being beyond their corporal limits. Tattoo bearers who were enculturated into these visual worlds of ink were able to read and retrieve information about others because tattoos made people and their cultural worlds clearly understood.

Indigenous Indonesiam man with many body tattoos.
Aman Ipai of Buttui, Siberut Island, Indonesia, 2007. He has many tattoos, including a cruciform-like crab tattooed on his forearm. He bears two rosettes on his shoulders, symbolizing that evil will bounce off his body like raindrops from a flower. © Lars Krutak

As I discuss in the book, the textuality of tattooing is often acknowledged in Indigenous languages. In the Gran Chaco of South America, the ‘Weenhayek (Mataco-Noctenes) people of Argentina referred to tattooing as ‘nootshànek, a general term for “sign” or “letter” related to the verb tshàneh, meaning “to inject” (literally, inject signs/letters into the skin). Today, ‘nootshànek also denotes “writing,” and ‘nootshànekkya (tattooing tools) refers to any kind of “writing instrument.”

In North America, the performance of Omaha women’s tattooing on the Great Plains was textual in its syntax and literally served as an act of writing. These tattoos were rich with cosmic meaning and embodied oral historical teachings. They also conferred life-giving and life-prolonging powers to the tattoo recipient(s).

In Polynesia, the terms for tattooing (e.g., tatau in Sāmoa and kakau in Hawai’i) are derived from the roots tau and kau, which convey activities such as “to strike,” “to mark,” and “to write.” Among the Māori of New Zealand, the patterns of men’s tā moko (facial tattoos) were unique to each individual. Leaders sometimes drew their facial tattoos on early settlement documents and treaties, since they were regarded as personal signatures.

What’s the one thing you’d like readers to take away from this book?

LK: Indigenous tattooing is one of the most powerful yet least understood forms of human expression. This book is a journey through that world—an exploration of the incredible range and depth of Indigenous tattoo traditions across the globe. It’s a celebration of both ancient and evolving ink, where each tattoo speaks to resilience, identity, creativity, and connection.

From ceremonial markings to everyday stories etched in flesh, I’ve featured a vibrant mosaic of tattoo cultures that blend the old with the new—where ancestral wisdom meets modern artistry, and where community and individuality are honored.

Alive with beauty and history, Indigenous tattoos are bold testaments to the human story—inked legacies that call to be seen, honored, and never forgotten.


Lars Krutak is an anthropologist, photographer, and writer. A research associate at the Museum of International Folk Art in Santa Fe, he is host of the Discovery Channel series Tattoo Hunter and the author of several books, including Tattoo Traditions of Asia and Tattoo Traditions of Native North America. He resides in Washington, D.C.