For four years, Michelle Harrison was the Cunning Folk sub-editor. Now she is a tattoo artist working at Briar Rose Tattoo in South East London, known for her ‘witchy vibe’, animals and plants. We caught up with her to find out about her new life pursuing a more visual and people-facing career.
Cunning Folk How did you become a tattoo artist?
Michelle Harrison In some ways, it felt coincidental—almost guided. I knew I wanted to work in a visually creative field, but I didn’t have a clear idea of what that would look like. One day, I was working on an illustration of a snake and a crow, and as I was drawing, it struck me that the piece kind of looked like a tattoo. That thought sent me down the rabbit hole of exploring tattooing as a career, and it clicked very quickly. The artistry, the meaningfulness of creating something that really matters to people, and the collaborative process with clients—those were all things that drew me in.
So, I decided to pursue an apprenticeship. As anyone who’s tried knows, apprenticeships are notoriously difficult to get these days, let alone a good one. I worked hard on my portfolio, and by sheer luck, a studio close to where I lived happened to be looking for an apprentice. Even more serendipitous, I already had an appointment there to get tattooed. I took the opportunity to speak with the artist, and from that conversation, I landed my apprenticeship on my very first try.
CF How has your time at Cunning Folk influenced your tattoo practice?
MH I’ve always been interested in the occult and spirituality, but working with Cunning Folk really deepened my sense of the interconnectedness between magic and art. I genuinely believe that when we create, it’s not just us—it’s a connection to something larger. Reading submissions from writers who used occult methods in their work, or who dissected myth and magic in their stories, was really inspiring. Those processes have definitely shaped the way I approach my own artwork today.
CF Can you expand on how it has shaped the way you approach your artwork?
MH It’s shaped how I surrender to the design process. Of course, when working on custom designs, the ideation part has already been taken care of to a degree. The client comes to me with an idea, size and placement, often with a few references of things they like. This means there are a few restrictions on what the artwork can be. But once the base idea is there, I like to just let go of any preconceived notions of where the work will go and become a conduit of something larger that brings the piece to life. It’s funny, really. I used to stress so much about my lack of knowledge about composition and design when I was starting out, but I really just lean into what feels right now rather than cognitively trying to make it make sense. Overthinking the process doesn’t help me; leaning into emotions and intuition is much more prevalent in the way I work. And it really does feel otherworldly sometimes, when you intuitively create a piece that you’re happy with, but that also really resonates with the client.
CF What kinds of tattoos do people come to you for?
MH I specialise in botanical and animal tattoos, often with a witchy twist, so a lot of clients come to me for larger-scale pieces of that nature. Most of my own tattoos are also plants and animals, and I love the sense of reconnection and honouring of nature that comes from wearing them on my skin. Being able to share that with clients means a lot to me.
Another area I often work in is pet portraits, many of which are memorial pieces. There’s something really beautiful about honouring the relationship with an animal by carrying it with you forever. I think tattoos can also aid in the grieving process, which is especially meaningful to me since pet grief isn’t always taken seriously in society. To me, tattooing gives us a visual, lasting way to keep that connection alive, beyond often fading memories.
CF Tattooing feels quite contemporary, even if we know it’s an ancient practice, often associated with lineage, identity and rites of passage and spiritual paths—today it’s hugely associated with deviance and criminality. Why do you think there’s been such a change?
MH It’s funny, because people in the Victorian and Edwardian eras actually loved tattoos, though in early European history, and in some contexts globally, tattoos were also being used punitively to mark criminals and slaves. Later on, tattoos became tied to “rough behaviour,” since they were mostly worn by sailors, and eventually by gang members and bikers.
Now, I think we’re seeing another shift, where the stigma is fading in the West. More and more workplaces allow visible tattoos, and the rise in popularity of delicate, fine-line styles has softened the traditionally “hard” image of tattooing. I also think tattoos have increasingly become markers of identity.
Before the early 2000s, it was common to walk into a shop, pick a design off the wall, and get it done. But with tattoo TV shows like L.A. Ink gaining popularity, custom designs became the norm. These days, most clients want a unique piece that’s theirs alone. To me, that shift has made tattooing a far more personal and collaborative practice. Even if a tattoo is simply chosen because someone loves a particular plant, animal, or object, that meaning belongs uniquely to them.
CF Would you say that there’s something magical about the tattooing practice?
MH Absolutely. I think there’s something very significant about willingly going through a painful experience in order to carry something on your skin forever. Transformation in life often comes through hardship or pain—we endure, we learn to surrender, and on the other side, we emerge changed.
Tattooing mirrors that. If you’ve ever had a painful tattoo, you know that the process of surrender—breathing through it, relaxing despite the difficulty—makes it easier. By the end, you’ve not only transformed your skin, but also your mind. That’s incredibly beautiful to me, and yes, it feels absolutely magical.
CF Do you have any tattoos? Can you tell us about them?
MH I do! Quite a few now, though not nearly enough—I’m still working on that. My favourite is actually my very first tattoo: a crow that covers my entire inner forearm. I’ve always loved crows and the way I’ve connected with them in my life, so having one on my skin feels like a way of honouring them, maybe even inviting their qualities into my life.
What’s even more special is what I discovered after getting it. I learned that my dad had a pet crow as a child —something I’d never known before. There are even old photos of him, just twelve years old, with this enormous crow perched on his shoulder. That tattoo revealed a connection I hadn’t realised we shared, and since then, I’ve discovered that he and I have so many overlapping interests rooted in nature.
Follow Michelle Harrison’s work on Instagram: @helle.inke