Ikigai and this thing we call tattooing…and life

The Japanese concept of Ikigai is often described as the quiet center where four things meet: what you love, what you are good at, what the world needs, and what you can be paid for. It’s not some mind blowing revelation that arrives all at once…nor even one piece at a time. The concept grows slowly through endless repetition, plenty of patience, and naturally, focused attention to one’s craft.

I’ve been thinking lately about the way tattooing lives within this concept.

I guess for all of us tattooers…the first spark is simple fascination. Falling in love with the images, the rituals of drawing, the absurdity and seeming whimsy of those symbols that live permanently on skin . Slowly, over the years, that first fascination becomes technical skill. I’ve probably pulled a million of those black lines…I’ve got no idea how many hours I’ve spent studying composition, the movement of the body, and also that strange way that tattoo ink somehow settles into living flesh. What began as a curious fascination and wonderment became a ability.

I remember that at some point something changed. Tattooing stopped being only about the me, the tattooer. You start to grasp the fact that people arrive with their stories—loss, celebration, transformation, whimsy..Sometimes they are untold but exist nevertheless. The craft of tattoo becomes a small act of service… a heart for love, a band logo to fit in, a memorial for someone gone. The craft touches what the world needs.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this…if someone is fortunate, the work also becomes a livelihood. Simply calling it a job is a gross mischaracterization…it’s a life built around the steady rhythm of drawing, tattooing, consulting, cleaning, putting in the countless hours of petty task and doing the same thing again the next day. Day by day…year by year.

In my opinion, and from what I can deduce from my western mind, is that quiet intersection—in the middle of love, skill, meaning, and sustenance—is where Ikigai lives.

Tattooing is rarely a direct path to anything. It is a slow, physical, and sometimes frustrating work that requires patience measured in years and even decades. Unfortunately, this sort patience and the honest self-reflection needed to leave the ego and be of service to others…also take years to develop. However, for those who stay with it long enough, the tattoo shop becomes way more than a workplace. It becomes bigger than the colored rooms…it blossoms into a place where craft, dedication. perseverance and human connection intertwine..

I guess that’s the closest thing to Ikigai a tattooer can hope for.

…a life of service spent skillfully making colored marks that matter.

Andy Hinton

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