Research-inspiring tattoos that tell stories of discovery, identity, and lifelong passion
When Kristin Barry completed her PhD in neuroscience in 2019, she chose to mark the milestone in a permanent, personal way – with a tattoo. Her research had focused on auditory disorders like tinnitus, and she’d spent countless hours studying auditory thalamus neurons – complex cells with branching dendrites, highlighted in her lab through a staining technique known as the Golgi method. The images, resembling delicate root systems or tendrils, were both scientifically meaningful and visually compelling. Two years later, Barry had one inked behind her ear.
“I didn’t expect my tattoo to become such a big part of my identity,” says Barry, now a research fellow at the University of Western Australia and Curtin University. “But it just felt right.”
She’s one of many scientists turning to tattoos as a way to celebrate discoveries, honour their fields, and express a deeper connection to their work. From double-helix designs to custom botanical illustrations, science tattoos are proving to be more than just skin-deep – they’re markers of memory, meaning, and sometimes, rebellion.
The Body as Archive
Carl Zimmer, science journalist and author of Science Ink: Tattoos of the Science Obsessed, discovered this trend almost by accident. “I was at a pool party,” Zimmer recalls, “and I noticed a friend of mine – a neuroscientist – had a tattoo on his shoulder. It spelled out his wife’s initials in genetic code.”
Zimmer shared the story on his blog, inviting others to submit their own science-inspired ink. The response was overwhelming. “These were people you’d normally see in lab coats,” he says. “You wouldn’t guess they had something so personal – and scientific – etched on their bodies.”
The submissions flooded in: tattoos of Darwin’s finches, the formula for mass–energy equivalence, finely detailed anatomical sketches, and obscure chemical structures meaningful only to the individual wearing them. His book ultimately featured around 300 designs, but Zimmer estimates he saw close to 1,000.
“It’s one thing to publish a paper,” he says. “It’s another to say, ‘This discovery matters so much to me, I’m going to carry it with me for life.’”
From Field Notes to Full Sleeves
For paleoecologist Yoshi Maezumi, her tattoo sleeve is a visual timeline of her research career. It began with a hummingbird – an Amazonian species she studied during her PhD at the University of Utah – and gradually expanded to include other plants and animals central to her work.
“I worked with the same artist for years,” says Maezumi, now at the Max Planck Institute of Geoanthropology in Germany. “Any time a new species came up in my research or I hit a milestone, we added it.”
While she doesn’t always notice the tattoos herself anymore, Maezumi sees them as living artifacts – scientific scrapbooking in ink.
Others, like European Space Agency physicist Matt Taylor, use tattoos to honour specific missions. His “mission leg” features designs commemorating the Cluster and Rosetta missions – two groundbreaking ESA projects. His Rosetta tattoo, in particular, was born of a promise.
“If the spacecraft came out of hibernation, I said I’d get the tattoo,” he recalls. It did. And he did.
Ink and Identity in the Lab
Tattoos can be deeply personal, but they can also be professionally risky. For decades, visible tattoos were often frowned upon in academic and research settings. Biologist Liz Haynes remembers choosing a location for her first tattoo that could be easily hidden.
“I never felt ashamed,” says Haynes, who now works in regenerative biology at the University of Wisconsin–Madison, “but I did think about how it might come across.” She opted for placements that sleeves or pants could cover, just in case.
Yesenia Arroyo, a research assistant and communications specialist at NASA, had similar concerns when they got their first visible tattoo – a line of planetary symbols. “I was nervous,” Arroyo admits. “Would people think I wasn’t professional? Would it affect my chances at certain jobs?”
Over time though, that anxiety has faded. Younger generations of scientists are helping shift the culture around body art in research spaces.
“I think it’s getting more relaxed,” says Arroyo. “And that’s probably because the field is getting younger, and we share different values now.”
Generational Ink
Todd Disotell, a biological anthropologist at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, has more than 30 tattoos – many of them science-themed. But he didn’t get his first until he turned 40.
“Most of my older colleagues don’t have tattoos,” he says. “Unless they served in the Marines, it’s just not common. But almost all my younger colleagues do.”
Disotell, like others, considers visibility when choosing where to place his tattoos. “If I wear long pants and sleeves, you’d never know,” he says. “Neck or face tattoos? That’s not for me.”
A Conversation Starter
For many scientists, tattoos aren’t just personal, they’re practical. Haynes, who has zebrafish tattoos, often uses them to demonstrate anatomy to students. “It’s a great teaching tool,” she says. “I can literally point to what I’m describing.”
Tattoos can also bridge the gap between researchers and the public. Taylor’s ESA team even produced temporary Rosetta tattoos for outreach events, helping to engage children and spark curiosity.
Arroyo sees their own ink – carbon and oxygen electron configurations among them – as part of that same mission.
“As a science communicator, I want people to feel like science is for them. Tattoos help me connect with people. They ask questions. They get curious.”
Sometimes, Arroyo admits, people mistake the planetary symbols for gender signs or anime references. But that just opens the door for more conversation.
More Than Skin Deep
For all the symbolism, pedagogy, and outreach, science tattoos remain – at their core – deeply personal.
Zimmer, reflecting on the stories shared with him during his Science Ink project, puts it this way: “At first I thought people were trying to communicate their passion to the world. But over time I realised these tattoos were mostly about communicating with themselves.”
For Barry, that inner connection is what matters most. “Science is part of who I am,” she says. “I live it, breathe it, talk about it in my free time. My tattoos are a reflection of that passion.”
Next on her list? A cochlea on her other ear. Because when it comes to science – and ink – there’s always more to discover.
