04 Horiyoshi III on Tattoo Aftercare

Before sharing these stories, I first related them to Horiyoshi III to make sure he felt they were accurate and appropriate for disclosure. I also proposed topics that would remain off limits, but he waived these restrictions. He encouraged me to share all my experiences.

Horiyoshi had forgotten, or simply not noticed many of the events that I found memorable. Telling my Horiyoshi stories to Horiyoshi himself was fun for both of us. Today's anecdote is the one that seemed to amuse him the most.

Around 2006, a foreigner was getting tattooed by Horiyoshi. In the West, it is customary for the artist to provide the client with detailed aftercare instructions. After his session, the foreigner looked puzzled when Horiyoshi finished without saying anything. So, the client requested his instructions.

Horiyoshi replied in English, “Don't touch.” The master subscribes to the LITFA (leave it the fuck alone) school of tattoo aftercare.

03 The Yakuza Boss

In about 2004, Horiyoshi III was working on my back at the Isecho studio when in comes this Yakuza boss and his, um, assistant. It was apparent from his attitude, speech, and presumably armed escort that he was a big cheese.

I have mixed feelings about the relationship between the Yakuza and tattoos. I endure discrimination in Japan because of the association. On the other hand, I owe a debt to the Yakuza for keeping traditional Japanese tattooing alive during that dark century before the current tattoo renaissance.

Anyway, the boss came to discuss a tattoo design with Horiyoshi. After he finished with that business, he turned his attention to me.

“That's a weird looking dragon,” he commented without regard to my (or the artist's) feelings. I suppose he was referring to the acid trip proportions of my dragon. I guess he had a point. The boss and his assistant leaned over me to further scrutinize my back. This was alarming, as I would rather not confront underworld figures while lying naked and prone on the floor. Chuck Norris would never approve.

The boss quizzed Horiyoshi about other tattoos I might have on the front of me. Always eager to meet unusual people, I engaged them in a bit of chit-chat, but the boss was more interested in talking than listening.

After a while, they left. I had survived my encounter with the Yakuza.

02 First Tattoo Session with Horiyoshi III

Having decided on Horiyoshi III to tattoo my back, I made plans to return to Japan in 2001 for my first sessions.

I vividly remember walking up the slope from the train station to the Isecho studio. These would be my last moments without an enormous tattoo in my skin. I waited in front of the bank as instructed, where Horiyoshi's son Kazu, then a teenager, came on a bicycle to meet me. He guided me to the famously obscure studio.

Once we arrived, I restated my specifications: a dragon with black scales, red belly and yellow dorsal fins, full size with background. This was all the direction Horiyoshi needed. I would later come to believe that this is the ideal level of detail to give a professional tattoo artist. Horiyoshi rummaged around in a drawer labeled “Dragons” and pulled out a sketch of a dragon's head.

I lay down on the floor and he sketched something on me with a brush. He then prepared to tattoo whatever it was into my skin. I asked to first have a look. Horiyoshi seemed slightly taken aback but motioned toward the sticker-encrusted mirror. I saw a dragon's face with a disturbingly huge claw next to it. I commented on the psychedelic proportions. “It looks cooler that way,” he calmly assured me. I assented. You don't engage someone like Horiyoshi III and then second guess his artistic judgment. Especially if you are as artistically impaired as me.

When he started to outline my backpiece, I crossed that line, a line that over subsequent years would inexorably progress toward my extremities.

01 Finding the Artist

From 2000 to 2012, I traveled to Japan to get a bodysuit tattoo from Horiyoshi III. Originally attracted by his first-class tattooing, I also had the pleasure of getting to know a fascinating and intelligent individual. The experience showed me a side of Japanese society that I otherwise would not have encountered. This has been by far the most interesting application of my Japanese language skills.

Getting tattoos all over your body is always an adventure, but an unexpected bonus has been the amusing anecdotes I have accumulated. In this blog I will share some of these stories with you.

I'll start with how I found my artist.

I had admired tattoos since I was a boy and had dabbled in hidden tattoos. In 2000, I decided that at long last it was time to go big with a backpiece. I began my search for a local San Francisco artist skilled in Japanese style tattooing, but Japanese style was not enough. I had the resources, experience and skills to do whatever I wanted in Japan (except vote). I relished extreme cultural adventure. For me, Japan itself was an essential component of this escapade. So on my next trip to Japan, I interviewed two artists.

My first consultation was with Horitoshi I. I arrived punctually for my appointment. An apprentice greeted me at the door. I was cordially invited to sit down to discuss to the tattoo. The apprentice brought us tea. I held forth in my most formal Japanese. Horitoshi responded in kind. Now this was first class. They made the people at department stores look like fishmongers.

I explained that on my back I wanted a traditional dragon with black scales, red belly and yellow dorsal fins. He examined my back, took careful notes and agreed to tattoo a dragon on me. Horitoshi was not just Japanese style, this man was the real thing—a first-class craftsman with impeccable etiquette.

The other consultation was with Horiyoshi III. He told me to just show up any time. Such informality is so uncharacteristic in Japan that I called a few minutes before my arrival to make sure it really was okay. When I arrived at the Noge studio, he was tattooing a client. The client did not seem to mind my intrusion; I myself would later come to welcome the diversion provided by such visitors. Horiyoshi listened to my plans as he worked. During his next break, Horiyoshi took a brief yet thoughtful look at my back and agreed to tattoo me. Horiyoshi had that rare balance of familiarity and formality, confidence and humility possessed only by those few who are accomplished and intelligent.

To my surprise, I had been accepted as a client by my top two choices in the world of tattooing. Both men were professionals I could trust. I liked both Horitoshi's more muted and traditional work, and also Horiyoshi's louder, evolved yet traditional style.

In the end, the tiebreaker was not skill or style, but logistics. Getting tattooed requires a huge time commitment, and Horiyoshi's Yokohama studios were more convenient. The three-hour round trip to Horitoshi's studio from my usual base of operations was too much. Ironically, I once lived just down the street from Horitoshi's studio. It's too bad I missed him, but back then I wasn't ready.

I neglected to contact Horitoshi to inform him of my decision and thank him for his time. I deeply regret this faux pas. I owe that fine man an apology.

Having made my decision, it was time for action. I'll tell you about the first tattoo session with Horiyoshi III next.