Etched In Ink: Personal Stories Told Through Tattoos

For tattoo artist and Chronic Ink studio owner Mia Claravall-Reyes, her love for tattoos can be traced back to her adoration for the rock, punk, and trip hop music scene during her teenage years. Her favorite bands were decorated in ink and, fascinated by this, she began doodling on herself and her classmates. It was during her Fine Arts undergraduate thesis on Kalinga tattooing that she realized how deeply rooted tattoos are in Filipino culture. 

Eventually, she found herself under the wings of the late Ricky Sta. Ana, co-founder and longtime president of the Philippine Tattoo Artists’ Guild credited to be a leader of modern Philippine skin art. “He was a master in oriental style. He can whip up a dragon freehand style with ease,” she reminisces. “My own style came when a client said she wanted me to do whatever I want. The trust and freedom unlocked something in me.”

Mia says her artistic style has since morphed and grown through different phases of her life. Today, she specializes in abstract, psychedelic-inspired designs, finding the process meditative and therapeutic. On her own skin, she treasures pieces that anchor her identity. She notes the traditional Filipino patterns on her arms, hand-tapped in Kalinga by Apo Whang-Od and Grace Palicas, as well as the Luzon and Samar motifs on her shin, inked by Jean Sioson through modern hand-tapping with a metal needle. 

“Most of my tattoos have meaning to me, even those that I got on a whim.” The most sentimental of all, she shares, is a flower and teddy bear inked by her daughters, aged 8 and 14 years old. “We do not force them to get into tattooing, but one day they asked if they can tattoo me and their dad, and we just let them.” 

“I think I was always destined to have tattoos,” says Berlin-based actor and artist Alexandra Sanchez-Mackenzie. “When I was a kid, I always got those fake tattoos, and I loved them.” 

While working on a book about tattoos, she realized that she wanted one of her own. Together with her best friend, she got her first tattoo, a composite of elements that resonate deeply with her identity: the earth represented by mountains, a reminder of her father’s Bavarian heritage; water, reflecting the oceans and her Filipino roots; and aether.

Today, the creative has 10 tattoos and counting. Her knack for adventure and sentimental nature are reflected in each. While her pieces are small and quaint, they each house stories and function as keepsakes of significant memories both good and bad, from heartbreak to friendship to travels. 

Her latest tattoo is a traditional band inked in Buscalan by mambabatok Grace Palicas, Apo Whang-Od’s grand-niece. It is a reminder of home, her Filipino heritage, and her mom. “It was a very special trip with my mother and godmother,” she recalls. “I had never been to Baguio, but my mother always went when she was young, so to go and hear her stories of her childhood and her holidays there was wonderful. Taking her into the mountains, and showing her a part of the Philippines she had never seen was an extremely special experience.”

For chef and performer Gerrhel Retuba, tattoos are a way to “make visible what lies within me.” She considers the process a transformation of sorts, with each new piece bringing her a step closer to herself. 

Her interest in the art started in school, when she would let her little brother and schoolmates doodle freely on her skin in permanent marker. This eventually grew into an itch to translate her inner self onto her body. Over the years, she’s collected an array of pieces, many of which are reminiscent of a garden: a sunflower for her late daughter and a large botanical piece on the back to remind her to stay grounded.

For Retuba, her tattoos not only reflect her identity but have also become a vital part of it. “I feel like [my tattoos are] an expression of myself that I reveal to myself and to others. [Because of them], I am more me.”

As a fashion designer and yoga teacher, Mariton Villanueva is fascinated with human anatomy. Intrigued by the way our ancestors’ tattoos mirrored it in their patterns, she is drawn toward traditional and ornamental tattoos that mimic her own body’s structure. 

Her tattoos are a visual diary, a mosaic of different phases of her life: “When I was 15, I was in the dance scene, surrounded by b-boys and artists in Baclaran,” she shares. “They were all covered in tattoos, so naturally, I wanted to get tattoos as well. I had my first at 17.”

Growing up, Villanueva struggled with selective mutism. “I would always lie, and when I would smile, I would cover my mouth,” she admits. Her neck piece is placed specifically on the throat chakra for this reason, a reminder to honor her truth. On her right shoulder sits an armor that served as a symbol of strength during a difficult time, while the tattoos on her left hand celebrate the creativity that flows from her hands.

“My tattoos remind me to embrace change, creativity, and authenticity, which are central to how I approach life,” she reflects. “They represent my individuality and the layers of who I am.”

Professional basketball player John Paul “Poy” Erram has no tattoos devoid of meaning. For him, every piece is intentional and exists both as memorabilia and as guideposts throughout his journey. 

“Ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted to get a tattoo, but my parents were against it,” he shares in Tagalog. “The first thing that drew me to it was how good it looked on the body. But now, what inspires me is the idea of having something to remember.” 

Material possessions are easy to lose, he says, so his tattoos serve as lasting reminders of what matters most. “That’s why I was inspired to get inked: so that every time I look at my tattoos, I’m reminded of what I’ve been through and what I’m still capable of.” 

Etched onto his skin are symbols of faith, a portrait of his family and pets, and symbolic imagery like a lion wrapped around his shoulder to remind him to turn every struggle into motivation.