Tattooist Tae Maps the Soul with Rulers and Restraint

Tattooing in Korea used to be a bit like Fight Club: underground, frowned upon, and full of guys who looked like they bench-pressed vending machines for fun. It was technically illegal unless you held a medical license (because nothing says “artistic credibility” like an orthodontics degree), so the whole scene bloomed behind blackout curtains and burner phones. But somewhere between K-pop’s sparkly global takeover and Instagram’s flood of soft-lit forearm porn, a new school of Korean tattoo artists quietly emerged - precise, poetic, and just a little bit possessed. This isn’t your uncle’s dragon sleeve. This is clean-line geometry, emotionally charged grayscale, and storytelling so subtle it whispers straight to your nervous system. Enter: Tae.

Tae didn’t come up through art school or jailhouse ink. He came from the sensory overload of a hair salon, cutting, perming, and colouring through 10-hour shifts like a caffeinated Edward Scissorhands. One day, he spots a floral tattoo blooming across a client’s arm and has what can only be described as a divine glitch in the matrix. By nightfall, he’s deep into tattoo YouTube rabbit holes, sliding into DMs, and drawing like he’s preparing for a cosmic exam. The scissors were shelved. The machines were loaded. The obsession had begun.

Now based in Vancouver, Tae works like a memory-sculpting watchmaker with a soft spot for symmetry. His pieces aren’t just tattoos. They’re emotionally engineered monuments. Clients hand over mood boards full of grief, joy, playlists, ex-lovers, dead pets, and grandma’s kitchen wallpaper, and somehow, Tae translates that chaos into calm, minimalist precision. He treats the human body like alien topography - every rib a ridgeline, every joint a fault line begging for ink. His tattoos aren’t designs, they’re encrypted field notes from your emotional geology. The result? A black-and-grey memoir that wraps your limbs like ancient architecture whispering secrets only your bones understand.

Yes, he’s winning international awards. Yes, he collaborates with heavyweight global brands. But hype isn’t the point. Tae’s mission is weirder and more beautiful than that: distill the full complexity of a life into a single, finely-inked line. What follows is his story, told in his own words. No flash. No filler. Just geometry, grit, and the delicate violence of making meaning permanent.

I. FROM SHEARS TO SKIN

I used to work as a hair stylist: long, intense days full of colour, perming, cutting, back-to-back clients. I genuinely enjoyed it, but there was a moment where I started to feel this creative itch. Like I needed something slower, something I could pour more of myself into. Something with more presence. That shift started when I noticed a floral tattoo on one of my clients’ arms. It stopped me mid-convo. I asked how long did it take? What was the process? The cost? That night I couldn’t sleep. I’d always loved art class as a kid, but I didn’t come from an art background. Still, I found a tattoo artist I admired on Instagram and sent a message. That moment was the true beginning.

II. INK THAT MOVES WITH YOU

Now, when a client comes to me wanting to tell their story through a tattoo, I go deep. I ask for photos, quotes, playlists, even videos. From that I’ll start mapping: main themes, secondary elements, background. I treat the body as a moving canvas. Everything I design follows the natural lines so the story lives with them, not just on them. Geometry plays a big part in how I build these pieces. I love meaning, but I also want every tattoo to be visually sculptural. If I can elongate a limb, accentuate musculature, or create a sense of movement, I will. Geometry helps me get there. It’s a sculptor’s tool. I work entirely in black-and-grey minimalism. That’s 100% intentional. I approach each tattoo like I’m building a brand. My brand. Even when repeating forms or lines, I push for crispness, restraint, and clarity. That clean contrast is more than technique; it’s my signature. And I hold myself to a high standard. The hawk-and-line design I created for the 2022 Korea Tattoo Convention is still one of the pieces I’m proudest of. That client gave me total creative freedom, which rarely happens. And it resulted in my first award. That experience changed me. It gave me momentum.

III. DISCIPLINE, GEOMETRY, AND GENOROSITY

Every tattoo starts with the body. I look at the site, its scale, musculature, shape. Then I sketch with that form in mind, integrating geometry to enhance how it moves. I want harmony between concept and anatomy. The result should feel inevitable, like the story belongs there. My mentor, @q_tattoo, shaped so much of my foundation. I wasn’t trained in fine art, but I learned how to think and work like a professional by watching him, day after day, 10:30 a.m. to 11 p.m. sessions, nonstop design, even on his days off. That discipline taught me what real commitment looks like. Now I work at @HalfdayStudio and with the @Kwadron team. The artists around me challenge and inspire me constantly. It’s not just about technique. It’s about energy, perspective, generosity. I don’t take that kind of community for granted. Another big influence has been @OscarAkermo. A lot of traditional black-and-grey work can feel dense, but Oscar’s use of negative space flipped my thinking. He showed me that what you don’t include is just as powerful as what you do. That approach changed how I handle my clients’ memories. I now use geometry not just for beauty, but for definition and intention.

IV. LOOKING FORWARD, DRAWING BACK

Winning that first award was everything. It was the first time a fully original design of mine was recognised in that way. Since then, I’ve won at the 2024 and 2025 Vancouver Tattoo Conventions, standing alongside artists I’ve looked up to for years. Those moments keep me growing. They keep me honest. Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about cross-border collaborations. When you work in a particular style for a long time, it’s easy to fall into patterns. Working with artists from different backgrounds breaks that cycle. It introduces surprise. With global brands like @Kwadron, I also feel a sense of responsibility. I’m representing more than just myself, and that raises the bar. Right now I’m planning a project that means a lot to me: a live drawing street art piece in Vancouver. I’ll draw in public spaces - music venues, outdoor events - and gift the finished design as a tattoo to one randomly chosen person. It’s my way of giving something back to a city that’s shown me so much love. Long term, I’ve been developing my own brand quietly for years, sketchbooks full of ideas, compositions, motifs. Over the next five years, I want to bring all of it together in a solo exhibition - something multi-dimensional that reflects the deeper world behind the tattoos. Vancouver is my current home base, but I don’t see borders when I think about my future. I want to collaborate, guest, learn, evolve. Whatever the next step is, I’ll be ready, with an open mind, and the same desire I had when I saw that floral tattoo all those years ago.