I came to traditional Japanese tattooing through Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. In San Francisco it is almost part of the culture. After starting my backpiece I found Remonster’s blog about his journey. I was inspired to chart my journey in completing a traditional Japanese bodysuit. Jean from Waboripedia helped me learn about this art form and encouraged me to start putting my thoughts somewhere public. Definitely a special mention to Faintypym for inspiring with her journey and always encouraging mine as well.
The other part of this project came from standing in museums, listening to docents talk about Ukiyo-e, Monet, and other local exhibits.
The historical context was interesting, but I’ll be honest, I’d get lost after a while. Same with the technical explanations of printing or painting. I could appreciate the information, but I didn’t always know what to do with it. Then, when a docent talked about composition, something clicked.
Where does your eye go first? How does the image move? Why does one area feel quiet while another feels loud? How does the whole thing hold together?
That was the part that gave me a sense of awe. Not because I suddenly understood everything, but because I finally had a way to keep looking.
Old Japanese tattoo books give me that same feeling. The longer I stare at bodysuits, the less they look like collections of cool images placed on skin. More and more, they look like solutions to visual problems. A back, ribs, knees, elbows, shoulders, hips, arms, and legs all have to become part of one continuous picture. The body bends, turns, separates, and interrupts the image, and somehow the strongest suits keep holding together.
That’s the part I’m trying to study here.
I’m not Japanese. I’m not a tattoo artist. I don’t have the cultural background, trade knowledge, or lived experience that would make these entries complete. I’m very aware of that. Also, I do think these bodysuits can still be appreciated deeply through looking carefully.
So this project is a record of how I’m learning how to see.
It’s part bodysuit journey, part notebook, part appreciation project. A small attempt to be a dollar-store docent for the pictures in my little tattoo book library. Not to explain everything. Not to rank artists. Not to prove old work is better. Just to slow down, look closely, and put words to what I’m starting to notice.
Most of what I’m noticing comes back to a few simple questions.
Where does my eye go, and why?
How does the suit create depth, atmosphere, or a sense of place?
How does the artist solve the challenges created by the human body?
Those questions keep showing up whether I’m looking at a dragon, a koi, a karajishi, a suikoden-inspired backpiece, a sleeve, or a full bodysuit. Sometimes it’s about readability. Sometimes it’s about layers. Sometimes it’s about how water, clouds, rocks, flowers, or bars keep separate body parts feeling connected. I’m less interested in declaring what a suit “means” and more interested in asking what the artist seems to be solving visually.
Maybe I’ll hit the ceiling of what I can understand from the outside. That’s fine. Probably going to miss a lot in this learning process. However, even getting to that ceiling seems worth it. The Wabori/Irezumi bodysuit is that incredible.
Who knows? Maybe by putting these thoughts out there, other people can help fill in the blanks.
