" M O N TA N A H A S V E RY PHOTOS LEFT CLOCKWISE: Hungerford poses in her studio in October of 2021. Hungerford opened her Bozeman, Montana studio, Jamais Vu Tattoo, in June of 2020. TRAM “All About that Base”: Big Sky Resort’s Lone Peak Tram PHOTO COURTESY OF LINZI HUNGERFORD
TRADITIONAL STYLES ... V E RY B O L D L I N E S , V E RY BOLD COLOR, M AY B E F O U R COLORS IN O N E . T H AT ’ S NOT MY STYLE.” -LINZI HUNGERFORD
To Google “Old Western Tattoos” is to find photographs of numerous cowboy tats—of pistols, horses, and at least one full-backer of a train robbery and a High Noon-style shootout. Many of such images’ creators are women. Hungerford is one of thousands of female tattooers who during this renaissance have embraced dermal art. “You could do a feminist take on tattoos,” she says. “But I think the majority of female artists just have their own style. Some people say, ‘Well maybe a female artist will have a lighter touch.’ But that’s definitely not true.” Asked what the challenges are for sketching on skin, Hungerford sees tattooing as a different beast. “It’s a whole new breed of art,” she says, adjusting her mask. “You get frustrated by the fact that you can paint this on canvas, you can draw this, but on skin it reacts completely differently. You have to relearn all of it. You have the needles and skin and pain, and people’s tolerances, and everything about it is fairly difficult.” Is part of that difficulty being psychologically aware? “Abuse victims want to get a tattoo to signify their victory over something. Or there are self-harm people who come in, and they don’t want to self-harm anymore … they want to cover up their scars.” There is a talismanic element to such tattooing. And for the tattooer, the process is palliative. Von D writes, “Whether I’m helping somebody cope or celebrate, when I give somebody a tattoo, I become part of a landmark in time for them. The
Hungerford’s tattoo, “Bison in Rabbitbrush” BY LINZI HUNGERFORD
connection is something way beyond a needle and some ink. I can’t magically take away people’s problems and pain, but I can help them honor, heal, and rejoice.” Tattoo parlors crowd the American West. The World Atlas of Tattoo chronicles this growth and cites its artists. Whether in his Austin or San Francisco studios, the African American tattooer Zulu creates images that are brightly colored renditions of spiritual moments. The “godfather of spiritual tattooing,” he sees tattooing as “a healing force,” and the tattoo experience as communicative. “I’ve never tattooed a stranger,” Zulu told the World Atlas. “By the time I tattoo you, we know each other.” San Francisco’s Jill Bonny works in the Japanese tradition of full-body art, inking geishas, warriors and mythological figures in black ink highlighted with color. She was trained in art at New York’s Cooper Union. British Columbia’s Dion Kaszas works with Indigenous images of North American spirituality. “When I [first] sat down to skin-stitch,” he’s quoted as saying, “I felt as if I was connected to something that was beyond this plane of existence, a place connected to my ancestors in a way that I never felt possible.” Fountain Valley, California’s Jose Lopez tattoos lowriders on forearms in the Chicano, black-and-gray style, and Stanton, California’s Elle Festin works in neo-tribal motifs, “inspired by Indigenous Philippine sources,” World Atlas writes. Austin’s Nick Baxter inks in a style he calls “color surrealism.” The list goes on.
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