The Language of Tattoos

A professional sailor and a weekend hobbyist both tie the same knot—a bowline. For the hobbyist, the knot is a simple, functional tool learned from a YouTube video, a reliable way to secure a line to a cleat. It’s a means to an end, forgotten the moment the boat is docked. For the professional sailor, however, that same knot is a sentence in a silent language. Its tension, the way the loop is dressed, and the speed with which it’s tied communicate experience, competence, and even a certain philosophy of seamanship. An expert can glance at that knot and read a story about its maker: their training, their attention to detail, their respect for the sea. The knot is a sign, dense with unwritten history and personal identity.

This same divide between surface function and deep meaning exists on our own skin. Tattoos can be seen as mere decoration, but they are also a complex visual language, rich with symbols and stories passed down through generations of artists and wearers. It was this gap between perception and reality that fascinated Nick Schonberger. As a writer and editor covering style and culture, he noticed that while tattoos were becoming mainstream, their historical vocabulary—the meaning behind the swallow, the anchor, the dagger—was fading. He set out to decipher their grammar, tracing these symbols back to their origins in port cities and military barracks. "The Language of Tattoos" is his effort to restore that lost context, showing us how to read the stories that have been written on the human body for centuries.

Module 1: The DNA of Tattoo Imagery

Tattoos feel deeply personal. But the symbols we choose are part of a much larger story. They are a remix of culture, history, and art. Schonberger argues that the vocabulary of modern tattooing is built on a foundation of appropriation and recontextualization. This is an observation of how visual languages evolve.

The first thing to grasp is that tattooing is a codified tradition with a clear historical lineage. Schonberger focuses on the European and North American style that emerged in the 1850s. This tradition formalized tattooing into a business. It created a shared mythology. And it established a specific aesthetic. This lineage is the one that has most profoundly shaped global tattoo culture today. For example, Western artists began borrowing heavily from Japanese art, especially the woodblock prints known as ukiyo-e. This blend created a distinct visual dialect. A Japanese dragon design might appear on a "flash" sheet, a page of pre-drawn tattoos, right next to a Western religious symbol like the "Rock of Ages."

Building on that idea, most common tattoo symbols are appropriated from other visual cultures. Tattoos rarely invent new images from scratch. Instead, they absorb them. Think of Victorian-era funeral graphics or illustrations from Christian hymns. These became tattoo motifs. The same is true for military insignia, carnival art, brand logos, and Hollywood posters. The image is lifted from its original context and given new life as a personal emblem on the body. Often, the tattoo version becomes more famous than the original.

So what happens next? This constant blending standardizes the language into dominant styles. Today, three major styles form the core of contemporary tattooing. First, Western traditional, known for its bold lines and bright colors. Second, Irezumi, the intricate and narrative-driven Japanese style. And third, fine-line, a delicate black-and-grey style that originated in Southern California's Chicano communities. Each style has its own rules and aesthetic, but they all draw from the same well of remixed symbols. This standardization allows a tattoo to be "read" by others who understand the code.

And here's the thing. Each symbol carries a layered history that intersects with personal meaning. The book showcases 130 common symbols, each rendered in the three main styles. A symbol like a rose carries associations with the Greek goddess Aphrodite, immortal love, and centuries of art history. When you choose that rose tattoo, you're tapping into that entire lineage. Your personal story—why you got the rose—adds another layer. This creates what Schonberger calls an "ever-deepening shared culture," where personal and collective histories merge.