She Opened a Tattoo Studio When the Industry Shut Down

In 2020, when tattoo studios across the world were closing their doors, one tattoo artist in Seattle didn’t want to wait it out. While much of the industry paused, she opened a brand-new studio instead.

That artist was PingPing (@inkprick), and the studio she built was called NieU.

At the time, the space was raw and unfinished. The walls were bare. Tools sat half unpacked. The quiet didn’t feel calm, it felt uncertain. With businesses shutting down around her, PingPing stood alone inside the empty room, weighing whether she was taking a necessary leap or making a costly mistake.

“There was no promise of stability,” she says. “Financially, it was a real risk. Emotionally, it felt heavy. I remember standing there wondering if I was being brave or reckless.”

Opening a tattoo studio during COVID meant betting against the moment. Conventions disappeared overnight. Shops shuttered. The future of tattooing felt unclear.

“I knew if I waited for perfect timing, I might never begin,” PingPing says. “I didn’t open NieU to compete or to prove something. I opened it because I wanted to build a space where tattooing could be done honestly.”

Building Without Momentum

NieU wasn’t built on inherited traffic or industry momentum. Every part of it was created intentionally, from how artists are supported to how work moves through the space.

The studio’s name reflects that intention. “Nie” comes from the Chinese character 涅, historically associated with black dye and the act of marking. Within tattoo culture, it connects directly to ink-filled designs and transformation. Paired with “You,” it’s pronounced like “new,” reflecting renewal and fresh beginnings.

“For me, it represents the moment where art and personal identity meet,” PingPing explains. “Every tattoo marks a new chapter.”

That belief isn’t symbolic. Tattooing at NieU is paced deliberately. Artists are encouraged to sit with ideas, redraw when needed, and prioritize long-term quality over speed. The studio structure resists production pressure in favor of focus.

Going Against Industry Norms

Tattooing remains a male-dominated industry, particularly at the ownership level. PingPing doesn’t frame that as an obstacle, but it has shaped how she leads.

“I don’t see leadership in terms of advantage or disadvantage,” she says. “It’s about awareness. I pay attention to the atmosphere of a space. The unspoken dynamics. That matters in a tattoo studio.”

NieU operates without rigid hierarchy. Apprentices aren’t rushed. Artists aren’t pushed into quotas or a single style. Knowledge is shared openly. Critique happens through conversation rather than dominance.

“Tattooing already humbles you,” she says. “Your body learns before your confidence does. I didn’t want pressure to outweigh growth.”

Clients feel the difference. Sessions are paced. Questions are welcomed. The experience is collaborative rather than transactional.

“When artists feel supported, the work gets stronger,” PingPing says. “And when clients feel seen, the tattoo carries more meaning.”

When the Risk Paid Off

There were still quiet nights, but the silence changed.

The once-empty room filled with artists staying late to refine their craft, conversations about line weight and composition, and the steady rhythm of machines at work. The space that once held doubt began to reflect stability.

“I’d sit there after everyone left and think, ‘Did I take on too much?’” PingPing admits.

What answered that doubt were the moments that followed. Apprentices finding confidence. Artists settling into their own voices. Clients pausing mid-session to say they could finally focus on the work without distraction.

“Hearing someone say, ‘I can actually concentrate here,’ meant more than recognition,” she says. “That’s when I realized the studio wasn’t just something I built. It was something we built together.”

Watching artists grow from uncertainty to independence confirmed that the risk was worth taking.

A Studio That Took Root

Today, NieU stands as proof that opening during uncertainty doesn’t have to end in failure. Its strength comes from patience, structure, and a refusal to rush tattooing into a product-first model.

For PingPing, Women’s Month isn’t about ceremony.

“So many women build quietly,” she says. “Supporting women means creating space to lead without having to prove twice as much.”

NieU is the result of that space. A studio opened during shutdowns, shaped by intention, and sustained by trust. Against the odds, it didn’t just survive. It took root.