An interesting process is happening in the world of tattoo culture: artists are increasingly turning to ancient crafts to create unique works on the skin. This is particularly evident in India, where tattoos and traditional crafts share a common visual language. This phenomenon is not just a fashion trend—it’s a way to preserve cultural heritage and pass it on to new generations.
From Embroidery to Leather: The Story of Ankita Kayal
Ankita Kayal, founder of the handloom brand Paher, chose something more permanent than a glass of champagne or a festive dinner for herself. Her forearm features three floral forms executed in the cross-stitch technique. These motifs are drawn from the same vocabulary she works with daily: single-thread Jamdani patterns on Bengali mul, Braille-like Tangalia knots on Kala cotton, Bandhani dots.
Kayal got this tattoo in 2023 when she left her main job to manage Paher independently. Later, she added a delicate bracelet around her wrist, referencing the tattoo traditions of Kutch. For her, the motifs that structure her textiles now adorn her body, connecting craft as a practice and craft as an identity.
Utsavi Jhaveri: From Advertising to Tattoo Art
These Indian embroidery designs were applied by Utsavi Jhaveri of Border-Line Tattoos. Working in advertising in Los Angeles, Jhaveri was drawn to the then-emerging trend of “ignorant” tattoos—playful doodles and simple line work that didn’t require heavy equipment or years of apprenticeship. After returning to India in 2018, she began teaching herself the art of hand poke.
When her grandmother passed away, everything changed. “The women in my family used to embroider, crochet, and spin together,” Jhaveri says. She discovered a treasure trove of saris drawn by her grandfather and embroidered by her grandmother. Jhaveri photographed the Indian embroidery motifs, recreating them digitally into a tattoo collection called Dori, because it felt like a thread connecting generations of women in her family. Since then, she has explored techniques such as Kasuti from Karnataka, Kantha from West Bengal, Tangalia from Gujarat, and Phulkari from Punjab.
Godna Traditions: From Body to Object
Centuries before tattoo parlors, guns, and sterile needles, communities like the Toda of the Nilgiris, the Gond of Central India, and the Rabari of Kutch (to name a few) practiced godna (“hand puncture”). Godna could be associated with criminal activity during British rule, but it was always a carrier of stories that flowed seamlessly between the body and the object. The same diamond found in Rabari embroidery might be etched onto the skin; the mesh pattern of a handloom sari could appear along the arm.
Consider Baiga godna, traditionally practiced by women in Madhya Pradesh using geometric patterns inspired by everyday life—grains, honeycombs, fishing nets, iron chains, mountains. Amit Arjel-Sharma of Blue Blood Tree Tattoo studio in Delhi trained under Shanti Bai Maravi, a sixth-generation Baiga godna master in Lalpur, Madhya Pradesh. Immersing himself in Baiga culture, he documented not only the motifs but also how specific designs are placed on the forehead, arms, chest, back, or legs depending on age, gender, and identity.
Contemporary Interpretations of Traditions
He worked with the Garo community in Meghalaya, where under the guidance of master weaver Daisy Momin, he adapted Garo textile motifs like the “goddess’s eye” and “warrior’s shield” into tattoos. Momin herself received the first tattoo of its kind in the community. In Gujarat, he studied Trajava, practiced by the Rabari and Mir, where motifs like Amba Mor appear in both tattoos and textiles.
The vocabulary of Badnin (Baiga tattoo artists) now extends beyond the skin. In regions like Surguja in Chhattisgarh, traditional godna motifs are translated onto khadi saris and textiles. Dusadh women of the Dalit community in Central India have re-envisioned their tattooing practice into an art form called godna painting—a subset of Mithila painting that emerged in the 1970s. The dense fields of dots and lines seen in contemporary works on cow dung, bamboo, and kajal paper echo the markings once applied to the body to signify resilience.
Preserving Heritage Through Tattoo
Arjel-Sharma also works as an assistant to Mangala Bai, Shanti Bai’s daughter, who began learning Baiga godna at the age of seven, accompanying her mother on village visits. “Godna is purakho ki pehchan (identity of our ancestors), and I am proud that even when I am not here, the work will remain,” says Mangala Bai. Although the practice has faded in her village, people who have moved to cities want to preserve their traditions through skin craft. She now travels to art platforms and conventions, visiting Delhi, Mumbai, and Goa. Last year, the pair traveled to the Sydney Biennale to showcase a floor-to-ceiling canvas titled Ten Thousand Suns.
Around 2020, Jhaveri visited a Baiga community near Kanha National Park, where she was tattooed by Mangala Bai using sewing needles. “Her sister asked me to give her a tattoo with a design from my Dori collection. They were extremely particular about placement and balance, which reflects how symbolic tattooing is in their culture,” says Jhaveri. “Tattooing, like embroidery, is about continuity—techniques and stories passed down through hands and generations.”
This process of integrating traditional crafts into modern tattoo culture demonstrates how art can serve as a bridge between the past and the future. Tattoo artists are not just creating patterns—they are preserving history, passing on knowledge, and strengthening cultural identity. This is especially important in an era of globalization when many traditions are at risk of disappearing. Through the skin, we can see and feel a connection to our ancestors, their crafts, and their lives.