Getting Tattooed by Horiyoshi III

From 2000 to 2012, I traveled annually to Yokohama Japan to be tattooed by the legendary tattoo artist Horiyoshi III. This was perhaps the most interesting experience of my life, so I recorded my experience in a series of blog posts that I hope you will enjoy.

If you intend to read the entire series, I suggest you begin with the first post and read them in chronological order. After you finish a post, view the subsequent post by clicking Newer Post (desktop), or < (mobile device) in the lower left corner.

This blog series originally appeared as a guest blog on website Needles and Sins. I am grateful for the platform that Needles and Sins provided. At some point Needles and Sins went offline, taking my guest blog posts with it. Thus I am re-publishing my experience here, enhanced with better photos, plus a few entirely new posts.

14 Cheating with Lidocaine

I had heard that anesthetic could not be used for tattooing, but I had quite a bit of leftover Lidocaine 5% cream. I threw it into my bag just in case and set out for Japan to get tattooed.

During my first appointment, I asked Horiyoshi III what he thought of trying the Lidocaine. He replied, “Sure, it's better if it doesn't hurt.” So I decided to give it a try.

About an hour before my next appointment, I applied the cream and covered it with Saran Wrap. Even though I washed my hands immediately, my fingertips became a little numb. That was a good sign.

And then I went to get tattooed. The project was koi fish on the insides of my thighs, a very painful place to be tattooed. But with local anesthetic, it was completely tolerable. As Horiyoshi's son Kazu observed the session, he commented to me, “Wow, you're really strong.” I sheepishly told him the real reason I was taking it so well.

I missed some places with the cream, and I tell you, that was some serious ouch. An even more distressing problem with this area was the nerve reflexes that made me move involuntarily. The anesthetic reduced this effect at its source. Horiyoshi also had a sandbag that he plopped onto my leg, and he often sat on my calf to arrest my movement.

If there is a problem with using Lidocaine cream for tattooing, I think it is the physical form of the cream. A potentially inexperienced client must properly apply it before coming under the supervision of the tattooist. It is a bit messy and is best applied in private where soap and water are available. It must be applied according to schedule, potentially when you are in an inconvenient location. I once had to apply it in the restroom at the Dai Ichi Hotel Tokyo while wearing a business suit. After application, the cream must be covered with Saran Wrap for maximum effectiveness. Why would anyone bring Saran Wrap to a business meeting?

When I asked Horiyoshi III for his opinion on anesthetics, he said that Japanese law prevents him from making a recommendation without a license to practice medicine. He did say that personally, he would prefer to not cause suffering, and if the client had a way to avoid it, then there was no reason not to. If the client seeks the therapeutic effect of becoming stronger through the painful ordeal, then that too is fine. He added that there was no particular unfairness in how some people endure the pain of tattooing, while others can choose to escape it.

But wait. Isn't pain an integral part of tattooing? Is it really okay to remove just this part of the experience? It certainly removes the macho “I can take anything” element of being tattooed. I'm cheating, and cheaters like me will never make yakuza boss.

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It was early days for tattoo anesthesia when I experimented with Lidocaine. Nowadays, the tattoo industry has much more experience with anesthesia; a wide variety of products specifically intended for tattooing are available. My one technical recommendation is that you remove all traces of Lidocaine cream before beginning to tattoo. Beyond that, refer to more modern articles for information on what to use and how to use it.

13 How Horiyoshi III Designed My Bodysuit

I arrived for my appointment to find a woman discussing the tattoo she would be getting. She was there with her boyfriend, whom I recognized both as a client and from photos in books about Horiyoshi's work. She had decided to go big, but was undecided about the design. She asked Horiyoshi III, “Is there anything that you have always wanted to tattoo onto a woman?” Well, I thought to myself, tattooing whatever you want all over an attractive young woman surely must help break up the monotony of being a world-famous tattoo artist.

When I later commented on this encounter, Horiyoshi told me that in fact he dislikes this kind of freedom. When he got such requests in the past, he would draw up a design, but then the client would not like something about it. He needs the client to specify the basic theme.

For myself, I wanted the artistic beauty of a Japanese tattoo more than any specific image. As with all matters related to Japan, I also demanded authenticity. The intricate relationship between the images in a Japanese tattoo are beyond me—this was a job for an expert. I would make my preferences known, but ultimately Horiyoshi III would be my guide.

I already told you that for my back, I specified a dragon with black scales, red belly and yellow dorsal fins, full size. It turned out that these would be the most detailed instructions I would ever give Horiyoshi. Later, when it was time to fill in the dorsal fins, Horiyoshi recommended orange because “it looks cooler that way.”

When it came to the front of my torso, I wanted a mixture of designs, but choosing the right combination was a job for a real Japanese tattoo artist. I wrote Horiyoshi a long fax that specified mainly what I didn't want: macabre, violent or religious scenes, nor humans or human creations like weapons or buildings. I asked him to help me choose an auspicious combination of images from the natural world: plants or flowers, plus real or mythical creatures with scales or feathers.

It was not until the day that he was to start that we discussed the design in earnest. He suggested a munewari format, with chrysanthemums and two dragons. “We'll have the two dragons facing each other, the one on the right facing down, the one on the left facing up,” he said, sketching on his copy of my fax. “You're tall, so for you we'll make the empty stripe down the middle wider.”

He once again rummaged around in his drawer marked “Dragons”, found a suitable image for the upper dragon's face, and commenced to tattoo it onto me. The next day, he repeated with the lower dragon. I never played Dungeons and Dragons, never read fantasy novels, never even had a dragon T-shirt. Yet why did I have dragons tattooed all over my body? I like how dragons look when rendered as tattoos.

Then we finished my munewari. We had been discussing the design for the insides of my thighs for years. Horiyoshi initially suggested images with Edo period erotic innuendo: mushrooms on one side to represent male, and a wolf on the other to represent female. I had thus far stuck to wholesome images, but I became intrigued with the idea of branching out and acquiring something more lurid, and this was the perfect location. But meanwhile, Horiyoshi seemed to become less enthusiastic about such images for me. I pressed him, and he said he had some sketches at the other studio, where my next appointment was scheduled.

Once again, the day to start the tattoo arrived without a concrete plan. Horiyoshi III produced a file folder and laid out several sketches of couples engaged in various mischief. He had already tattooed over half the surface of my skin, yet this was the first time he presented me with a choice of flash, where I would select an image, and say, “I want that tattoo.”

Without seriously examining any of them, I told him, “This isn't right for me. My tattoo collection does not include humans.” With some sense of relief, he immediately suggested koi (carp), and I agreed. The erotic sketches disappeared but were not replaced with a selection of koi sketches. We returned to our usual arrangement—with no further input from me, he rummaged around in his koi drawer, selected sketches that he felt were appropriate, and tattooed them onto me. I did not even know what color they would be until I saw them in my skin.

Next up was my sleeves. We both knew that this was an extremely big deal, as I, like most Japanese tattooed people, usually conceal my tattoos. This was my first tattoo that would not be hidden by a T-shirt and short pants. Yet we were to start the following day, and as usual I was still undecided on the design. He flashed his mischievous grin. “John-san, it's tomorrow, you know,” he chuckled, raising his voice slightly for emphasis.

For my arms I initially considered hanafuda, Japanese playing cards. Hanafuda would make a great tattoo for a professional poker player, but I had played hanafuda only once, and I really do not care for games at all. This was not the theme for me. Horiyoshi did suggest an interesting approach to a hanafuda tattoo: use the symbols on the cards in a valuable hand, but render them in the tattooist's usual style, without the rectangular cards.

What I initially wanted for my arms was koi. No, Horiyoshi said, all the koi on your body must be contiguous. Oh, it would have been nice to know that earlier this week when I got them tattooed on my thighs... Another phoenix? No, I already have the maximum of one. Tigers? My arms are not muscular enough for tigers. Even more dragons? Horiyoshi was unenthusiastic.

He suggested chrysanthemums and peonies. He explained that since peonies bloom in spring and chrysanthemums in fall, together they represent the whole year. Further, flowers can be added one by one, so I can stop at any point. He noted that flowers already appear throughout my existing tattoos.

This sounded good. I like gardening, so flowers are sufficiently meaningful to me. I was seeking an integrated, uniform design across both arms. These tattoos would be seen on occasion, so I wanted neutral images that broadcast no particular message. Well, no message beyond “heavily tattooed”.

So, we settled on this motif. Before starting, Horiyoshi checked with me one more time, “A combination of chrysanthemums and peonies on each arm, right?” He had never been so careful. I confirmed, repeating his words as if we were launching a weapon.

And once again, I crossed that line, this time pushing it down to my elbows.

12 Anything for Irezumi

Horiyoshi III answered the phone and listened intently. “Sure, come by any time!” he told the caller. He hung up and explained to those of us in the studio, “A Dutch company is doing a television program on koi (carp) and they want some material on koi tattoos.” Horiyoshi returned to tattooing me, declaring with a bemused smile, “I'll do anything for irezumi.”

And he does. Horiyoshi opens his studios and techniques to anyone who can promote and enhance the art of tattooing. I already told you about the frequent visits by journalists.

Once I arrived at the studio to find Horiyoshi examining a pile of aluminum stock. I inquired what he was up to. “People do not know how to make tebori equipment that can be properly autoclaved,” he explained. “So, I'm going to make some, and sell it so people can copy them. Indeed these tebori kits were for sale on Horiyoshi's web site, where he wrote humbly,

Nothing makes me happier than seeing the tattoo world advance. Be it tools or whatever, if I find something good, I do not want to keep it to myself. It is with this feeling that I publicize and sell this kit...

This is what I am currently using and what I think works best. Of course, I do not think that my own method is the only way. People all have different ideas, and I think it would be fabulous if someone could use this as a step toward an even better design.

Another time, a guy with a computer was industriously scanning a pile of the tracing paper sketches that Horiyoshi uses as the basis for his tattoos. I assume the images found their way into one the books of his sketches. I asked Horiyoshi why he publishes his core intellectual property. He answered, “I want them to serve as inspiration for other artists.”

He'll do anything for tattoos.

11 These Tattoos Bite

I love chatting with the locals in small neighborhood bars. In the comfortable anonymity of these places, I sometimes reveal that I am tattooed. Often people want to see. If the situation is right, I oblige them and take off my shirt.

And then the most surprising thing happens. Sensing a rare opportunity, other customers and bar employees join in by pulling back their clothing to reveal tattoos—usually over half the men and women present. Most Japanese think that their countrymen do not have tattoos. The reality is that they don't show their tattoos.

Only one of these people admitted to a Yakuza connection. He was a civilian, but his father was a Yakuza gangster who wore a dragon tattoo. He had an amusing story from his boyhood.

When he was a child, his father threatened, “If you're bad, this dragon will bite you!” (お前が悪いことをしたら、この龍が噛みつくぞ！) That scared the hell out of the young boy.

Like many Yakuza, the father was missing portions of his fingers. Instead of admitting he had chopped off his own fingers in atonement for gangland transgressions, the father claimed to have been mutilated by a fan. The boy spent summers in mortal fear of electric fans.

His father left when he was young and had been largely incommunicado thereafter.

Nonetheless, on his chest the son bore the same dragon tattoo as his father.

10 Horiyoshi III on Tattooing Women

In all my time at Horiyoshi III's studios, I have seen a female tattoo client just three times.

The studios have no private room. My appointments were always in the afternoon, so initially I guessed that perhaps women’s appointments were in the morning, when somehow greater privacy was afforded them. As I have already told you, there was often a squad of male apprentices and tattoo enthusiasts present. Undressing and getting tattooed in front of them would surely give pause to any woman. It certainly intimidated me at first.

I avoid talking about other clients, so I did not ask about it for many years, but in 2009, I finally inquired with Horiyoshi about his female clientele.

“John-san,” he said in a slightly incredulous tone. “Now, how often have you seen women in my studios?” I admitted that most of the women I had seen were journalists. I asked why he had so few female clients.

“They just don't come here. It's hard for them to undress; it's uncomfortable. Personally, that's better for me. Frankly, I would rather not tattoo women.”

09 Horiyoshi III on the Addictiveness of Tattoos

 

In 2005, Horiyoshi III finished my backpiece. Yet I was in the grip of tattoo addiction, and I still had more time reserved with the master. The very next day we continued with munewari, the front of my torso. I had only a backpiece for just one day.

I commented to Horiyoshi III that tattoos are addictive, and he corrected me:

Tattoos are not an addiction; they are a collection. A tattoo collector is just like a conventional art collector who buys a painting, hangs it on the wall, and then moves on to acquire the next, unique piece.

Tattoo collecting is a spiritual pursuit, while addiction is a physiological need. Addicts repeatedly take the same drug over and over without limit. A tattoo collection has variety, and it has an end. Once you collect the whole set, you're done.

As you complete your tattoo collection, you yourself become art.

Indeed, soon after this I did start to feel like art, mostly because observers began to treat me like art.