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.

08 Machine vs. Tebori Tattooing

I am often asked about the difference between machine and tebori (hand poke) tattooing. I experienced quite a bit of both, because in the years that he tattooed me, Horiyoshi III transitioned from tebori to machine.

As for how it feels, the location matters much, much more than the method. The main sensory difference is the sound and cadence of tebori. In this video of Horiyoshi III doing tebori, I can almost feel it myself.

Horiyoshi explained that it is the result attained after about four years that makes the biggest difference. He said that a machine works best for outlining because its precise, thin line does not spread out over the years, while tebori does spread out into soft, smooth gradients ideal for shading. He had an almost poetic way of stating it in Japanese that went something like, "The disadvantage of one method is an advantage in one application, and the disadvantage of the other method is an advantage in the other application."

Horiyoshi then commented, "You like tebori better, don't you, John-san." This man can see right through me. I guess I do like tebori, not because it feels any better, but because it's a rarer and more authentic experience that yields a superior result. Both methods involve needles, and getting stuck with needles hurts.

For the past few years Horiyoshi has used a machine exclusively. When I asked about this, he said that as one ages, it becomes difficult to perceive fast-moving objects. He dramatized by waving his hand past his face, then making a mystified expression as if he had missed something.

As you can see in the video, your skin moves around quite a bit during tebori, but with a machine, it stays relatively stationary. So, no more tebori.

07 The Changing Scene at Horiyoshi III's Studios

During the first years of my visits to Horiyoshi III, all manner of tattoo devotees were constantly present: foreign and domestic apprentices, Horiyoshi's clients, Horitomo and his clients, journalists, even graduate students researching their master’s thesis or doctoral dissertation.

Quite a few of the apprentices and clients I recognized from photographs in the various books about Horiyoshi's work. This photo was taken by Mr. Handa, who appeared in Takahiro Kitamura's book Bushido. This book influenced my tattoo choices, and here one the characters from the book had come to life and was taking pictures of my tattoos! What a role reversal.

Everyone took advantage of the opportunity to brandish their tattoos. Japanese of many occupations change clothes for work, which allowed the apprentices to show more skin, and of course we clients had to expose our tattoos. Outside the studio, tattoos could be displayed only at public baths and once a year at festivals, so this was a welcome respite from the disapproval lurking out there in the real Japan.

Everyone was polite, yet quite interested to see each other’s tattoos in progress. When I undressed, those present would take the opportunity to scrutinize me. Privacy was not a part of this experience. Nonetheless, I became accustomed to it, and I too was able to observe many superb tattoos.

Around 2007, the scene changed. The hangers-on were gone, and Horiyoshi and I were regularly alone during my appointments. Journalists, sensing the opportunity to record the end of an era, descended on the studios, where Horiyoshi welcomed them. I found it interesting to listen in on the interviews and even got the opportunity to comment myself. For a time, an article about Horiyoshi III appeared in almost every issue of Tattoo Burst, Japan's premier tattoo magazine.

Once in 2008 I arrived at the cramped Isecho studio to find it jammed with photographic equipment, a columnist for Tattoo Master magazine, an interpreter and a photographer. They took this fine cover photo for the Spring 2009 issue right there in that tiny room.

The mix of clients has changed over the years as well. In the early years of my experience, most appeared to be construction tradesmen, followed by an approximately equal numbers of foreigners and Yakuza.

In 2009 I mentioned these changes in clientèle to Horiyoshi and asked about the current mix. He gave the following estimate by profession:

• 60% Craftsmen and tradesmen. Through conversations with these clients, I found that many were themselves tattooists.
• 10% Yakuza. Horiyoshi added that there are other tattoo artists whose clientèle is almost entirely Yakuza.
• 30% Other. “You're in this category, John-san,” he told me with a grin.

As for nationality, 30-50% are foreigners. “In fact, today all appointments are with foreigners,” Horiyoshi commented one Saturday in 2009.

Rather than the mark of the Yakuza, these days a traditional Japanese bodysuit just might be the mark of a foreigner.