Gabriel Puas Wants to Hack the Tattoo Industry—and He’s Starting With America’s Skin

Tattoos used to be signals of rebellion, worn by sailors, outlaws, and countercultural heroes. Today, they’ve shed that edge and crossed into the mainstream, where they’re less about flipping the bird to authority and more about personal branding. Call it skin-deep storytelling. According to Chilean tattoo artist Gabriel Puas, though, it’s time to take tattoos back to their roots—where ink isn’t just aesthetic but deeply anthropological.

Puas doesn’t peddle quick-hit designs for TikTok dopamine spikes. Forget infinity symbols and basic flash art. He’s here with a more profound concept: tattooing as a living archive of human experience. His specialty? Polynesian tattoos—a style steeped in ritual and ancestral knowledge, a tradition where every line tells a story. For Puas, tattooing is “a conversation between human history and individual destiny.” That’s not marketing hype. It’s his operating system.

His studio in Santa Lucía, Chile, became a mecca for those seeking more than cookie-cutter ink. Over time, he scaled up strategically, migrating from Marcoleta to Portal Lyon and then to Providencia. Each location expanded his influence, turning his operation into a hub for artistic experimentation. Puas’ clients walked away with more than tattoos—they left with tangible, personal myths carved into their skin.

Here’s what makes his method tick: Puas doesn’t rely on templates or recycle trends. He draws freehand, collaborating with each client’s anatomy and story in real-time. Think of him as a tattoo world UX designer, shaping every line to align with both body and spirit. “The connection it creates between clients and nature allows me to design each idea freehand,” he says. This process isn’t about aesthetics alone; it’s about creating artifacts—timeless, intentional pieces in a world saturated by the ephemeral.

Now, Puas is expanding his frontier to the United States. He’s not coming to chase Instagram fame or cater to the hype machine. His mission is to tap into America’s Polynesian cultural networks and further evolve his craft. “My goal is to learn more about the Polynesian culture present in the country,” he explains. That cultural deep dive isn’t just an excuse for artistic inspiration—it’s core to his practice. Puas thrives on synthesis, weaving together historical narratives and personal identity to create something entirely new.

It’s a bold move. The U.S. tattoo scene is crowded and commercialized, with shops multiplying faster than Starbucks. Puas stands apart by rejecting mass production. He doesn’t just decorate bodies; he consecrates them. His tattoos function like digital permanence in a world designed for rapid deletion—a paradox of analog storytelling in a hyper-connected era.

This is why Puas’ U.S. debut matters. He’s not here to tattoo tourists or push trendy designs. He’s here to disrupt an industry that has grown complacent. In a market awash with meaningless ink, Puas’ work reintroduces gravity. He insists that tattoos must signify something real, something lasting.

As Gabriel Puas prepares to bring his art and ethos stateside, the American tattoo world is in for a wake-up call. His ink isn’t just skin deep. It’s a cultural reboot, a reminder that in an age of mass distraction, a well-placed line can still carry the weight of history, myth, and identity. In a landscape where authenticity often feels as disposable as yesterday’s feed, that might just be the most revolutionary act of all.