A few years ago, Aaron Deter-Wolf, an archaeologist at the Tennessee Division of Archeology – the archeology branch of a local government agency dedicated to environmental protection – received a piece of a mastodon tusk, discovered on a riverbank and taken by an individual. Broken by one of his students, Aaron Deter-Wolf collects shards to make tattoo needles which he will test on a colleague: a total failure which nevertheless perfectly depicts the passion which drives the character, of which National Geographic has drawn up a portrait.
Field archaeologist by week, passionate about the history of tattooing in his free time, Aaron Deter-Wolf has become one of the world’s experts on ancient tattooing. Neglected for a long time, this practice now finds its place in research for the unique insight it sheds on the identity and rites of vanished societies.
How can we explain that such an ancient and widespread practice has been shunned by science for so long? The roots of this indifference go back to the colonial period when missionaries stigmatized tattooing as a mark of barbarism. This vision permeated emerging archeology in the 19th century.e century, relegating tattooing to the ranks of wild practices. Aaron Deter-Wolf, himself tattooed, will be confronted very early with this contempt for academia, even if things have changed in recent years.
To identify the tools used by ancient tattoo artists, there is nothing like practice: Aaron Deter-Wolf embarks on experiments with various materials: bones, fish teeth, cactus thorns, feathers, and therefore, shards of mastodon tusks. The results are varied: while the quill and ivory are unusable, the bones and spines function admirably and hold the ink well. On a microscopic scale, these tools show specific signs of wear, allowing archaeologists today to distinguish real tattoo needles from simple awls or sewing needles.
Reviving missing tattoos
The methodical exploration of these ancient techniques obviously includes tests on pigskins as well as on volunteers – and on Aaron Deter-Wolf himself. Very quickly, the man became interested in Ötzi, the famous 5,300 year old glacial mummy. It was previously thought that his 61 tattoos were made by incision, with the wounds then impregnated with soot. By replicating several techniques (needle pricking, cutting followed by filling, ink stitching), the results reveal that Ötzi’s marks actually resemble those obtained by pricking – a result that redefines the history of tattooing in Alpine culture.
Mummies from the Andes or Egypt also offer a valuable field of investigation, provided one can identify tattoos on often altered skin. Using infrared imaging, Aaron Deter-Wolf and his Canadian colleague Benoît Robitaille, for example, revealed patterns that remained invisible to the naked eye on Peruvian mummies. The religious drawings, constant over two millennia, testify to the persistence of local beliefs, despite successive invasions.
Anne Austin, Egyptologist, underlines the interest of this approach for deciphering the social and religious life of ancient societies, especially when texts are lacking. On an Egyptian mummy, she identifies more than thirty tattoos, including hieroglyphs and musical instruments, revealing a privileged status and a sacred role that written sources never directly evoke.
Archaeologists are now rethinking their collections, taking a fresh look at sarcophagi and the transmission of knowledge. For Koch Madsen, a traditional Inuit tattoo artist, science is finally bringing the living closer to their ancestors by reconnecting certain traditions existing today to their lost origins.
In five years, evidence of tattoos on mummies has multiplied and exceeds anything collected in the previous century. “It’s a phenomenal database”concludes Aaron Deter-Wolf, spearhead of a booming discipline.
