Recently, a controversy has raged through tattooing. It didn’t begin with scandalous leaks or exposés. It started with something much simpler: respected artist Sam Barber posted her concerns about the way tattoo “schools” promote themselves.
She didn’t rant. She didn’t throw accusations. She just said what most of us have been thinking: that these schools are pushing a fantasy of fast money and rock-star lifestyles, all while showing very little actual tattooing skill.
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The result? A firestorm of memes, petty insults, and defensive rants. But buried in the noise was one line that stopped me cold. A tattoo school owner hit back with “It’s not your industry. It’s for everyone.”And that got me thinking. If it’s not my industry — if it’s not our industry — then whose is it?
The Role of Custodians
Tattooing doesn’t belong to any single artist. None of us “own” it. But that doesn’t make it a free-for-all. Tattooing is a culture, a craft, and right now, we — the working artists — are its custodians. That means it’s our responsibility to look after it. To make sure it survives the wave of hype and cash-grabs. To pass it on in a healthier state than we found it.
History will judge us. Future generations will look back and ask: were we the artists who protected the craft, or the ones who stood by while it was hollowed out and sold as lifestyle content?
The Scratcher Problem
Scratchers have always existed. The term is old tattoo slang for amateurs whose main motivation is money. They cut corners. They skip apprenticeships. They care more about what they can get than what they can give. What’s changed is the marketing. Today’s scratchers don’t hide in basements; they’re front and center on Instagram. They show off rented supercars and fake designer gear as proof of their “success.” What they rarely show is their actual tattooing — and when they do, it’s usually shaky, shallow, or unsafe.
The danger isn’t just the tattoos themselves. It’s the culture they create. When newcomers see this behavior rewarded, they start believing tattooing is about lifestyle first and craft second. Standards sink. Clients suffer. And eventually, governments step in. Because when scratchers multiply, infections rise, bad practices spread, and public trust collapses. And when that happens, regulation is inevitable.
Gatekeeping Isn’t Always Bad
“Gatekeeping” is treated like a dirty word. But in an unregulated art form, gatekeeping is often the only thing standing between quality and chaos. At its best, gatekeeping isn’t about arrogance. It’s about standards. It’s about saying: this is what safe, skilled tattooing looks like, and if you’re not there yet, you need more time, more training, more respect for the craft.
Other creative fields show how this works:
- Guild of Saint Luke (17th-century Europe): Painters couldn’t sell work in cities like Antwerp unless they were guild members. To join, you had to apprentice, train, and prove your skill. It wasn’t perfect, but it kept standards high and protected buyers from being ripped off.
- Ballet and classical music: You don’t just walk into an orchestra or onto a stage. You audition. You train for years. Not everyone makes it. That exclusivity isn’t cruelty; it’s respect for the art and the audience.
- Modern tattooing in Wales: As of 2024, all tattooists and premises must be licensed. Practitioners need training in infection control, and only approved shops can operate. Over 4,000 artists and 2,000 shops are now under that system. That’s gatekeeping in action: a filter to stop scratchers putting clients at risk.
- The EU’s tattoo ink regulations: By banning thousands of harmful chemicals, they forced manufacturers — and by extension, artists — to raise their standards. Another gate closed, but for the right reasons.
Gatekeeping can be abused, yes. But no gates at all? That’s worse. That’s how standards collapse.
If We Don’t Act, Others Will
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: if tattooists don’t act as stewards of the craft, then lawmakers will. And when politicians write rules, they don’t ask working artists how needles feel in skin. They don’t know the difference between good healing and bad. They don’t understand how creativity mixes with safety. They write blunt laws that often hurt the very people who care most about doing things right.
We’ve seen this story before. Industries that fail to self-regulate get regulated from the outside. Tattooing is already on that path. The only question is: do we shape it ourselves, or do we let people who don’t understand us decide?
Stewardship, Not Ownership
Being a steward doesn’t mean slamming the door on everyone new. It means building fair gates:
- Apprenticeships that teach, not exploit.
- Licensing that enforces safety without killing artistry.
- Public registers that make it easy for clients to find skilled, trustworthy artists.
- A culture where showing healed work matters more than showing off cars.
That’s how you keep the gates strong but fair.
Whose Industry Is It, Then?
When someone says, “It’s not your industry, it’s for everyone,” what they’re really saying is: “Stop holding me accountable.” But accountability is the job. Stewardship is the job. If we don’t protect tattooing, it will get carved up by opportunists, scratchers, and lawmakers who don’t care about the art.
So whose industry is it? It’s not the scratchers’. It’s not the hustlers selling shortcuts.
It belongs to the people who put in the hours. The ones who learn, who sweat, who make art that lasts. The custodians who know tattooing isn’t a hustle — it’s a craft.