For more than three decades, tattooing in South Korea lived in the shadows. The practice thrived, with an estimated 350,000 tattoo artists across the country, but the law treated it as criminal unless carried out by a medical professional. The contradiction was absurd: while eyebrow tattoos were quietly common among parliamentarians, a young artist risked jail for inking a client’s wrist.
That era has now ended. The National Assembly has passed the Tattooist Act, allowing non-medical professionals to obtain licences and legally practice tattoo artistry for the first time since a 1992 Supreme Court ruling outlawed it. For artists and their supporters, it marks the end of a long campaign—and perhaps the beginning of a cultural shift.
From Prohibition to Permission: The Long Road to Legalisation
The story of tattoo law in South Korea is equal parts irony and endurance. Despite tattoos being widespread—especially semi-permanent make-up for lips, eyebrows, and hairlines—only medical doctors could legally perform them. Those who did so without a licence risked five years in prison or fines of up to 50 million won.
This legal fiction left tattooists vulnerable. Artists were sometimes threatened, harassed, or reported by clients who knew the law was against them. One artist, “Narr,” spoke of being sexually harassed by a customer but too afraid to report it for fear of prosecution. Another, “Banul,” was reported by a client who demanded money after alleging, without proof, that a tattoo had smudged.
Yet as the underground industry grew, cracks appeared. Courts began acquitting artists, and politicians quietly revealed their own cosmetic tattoos. The contradiction became too glaring to ignore. Park Ju-min, chair of the National Assembly’s health and welfare committee, finally championed legislation that would create a licensing system. His argument was pragmatic: recognising tattooists as professionals would make the practice safer for citizens and give the industry the dignity it deserved.
The passage of the Tattooist Act was greeted with tears. Lim Bo-ran, president of the Korea Tattoo Federation, said: “I can’t speak because it feels like a dream. I am truly grateful.”
Between Law and Stigma: What Changes, What Remains
The new law is a breakthrough, but it does not dissolve the stigma overnight. Tattooing in Korea is still widely seen as rebellious, even deviant. A cultural hangover from associations with gangs and delinquency. Opinion polls continue to show a majority of South Koreans view tattoos negatively, despite their rising popularity among younger people and social media influencers.
The medical community has also not been convinced. The Korean Medical Association opposed the law, insisting tattooing is “fundamentally a medical procedure” that carries risks, from skin damage to interference with cancer diagnosis. Their concerns are not trivial, but they also reflect a reluctance to acknowledge tattooing as a legitimate artistic and cosmetic profession in its own right.
Even with the new law, barriers remain. The Tattooist Act will only take effect in two years, and artists will need to pass a national exam, undergo hygiene training, and keep meticulous records. Tattoo removal, via laser, will remain the exclusive domain of doctors. The state has chosen a cautious, heavily regulated approach.
But that caution is also part of what makes this moment significant. After decades of prohibition, the law does not fling open the doors but cracks them just enough to let light through. Artists once criminalised can now imagine being professionals with legal recognition. Citizens can expect safer, cleaner studios. And while stigma won’t vanish overnight, law has always been a shaper of social attitudes.
Conclusion: Ink as Art, Law as Canvas
South Korea’s decision to legalise tattooing by non-medical professionals is about more than body art. It is about how societies evolve in their definitions of expression, and how laws eventually catch up. For years, tattoos were omnipresent in Korean life yet invisible in law. They were an open secret carried on millions of bodies. Now, that contradiction has been addressed, if not entirely resolved.
Art takes many forms: on canvas, in song, on film, or inked onto skin. The ban always bordered on the ridiculous because it denied this truth. The Tattooist Act signals that lawmakers are finally ready to recognise tattoos not as a public threat but as a legitimate expression of identity. It will take years for the stigma to fade, but the ink has already dried on the law. And that is a landmark worth celebrating.