John

On his arms, a life story of mentors and family

Photos by Murphy Woodhouse

If tattoos tell a story, then John Williams’ arms are an epic. 

Sitting in his living room in Kuna, he rolls the sleeves of his t-shirt onto his shoulders and holds out his colorful limbs in the afternoon sun. 

His right arm looks like the forest and his left like the ocean. But there is so much more here to tell. 

He starts with his fingers, which are tattooed with the words FALL HUNT. A sixth-generation Idahoan, he explains the significance of the yearly trip he began taking with important men in his life when he was a kid. 

“I learned everything on the fall hunt – how to treat women, how to take care of a house, about conservation, about lifting up the people around you,” he says, his green eyes brightening. 

He moves on, to the fiery elm leaf on his right hand. It’s for Vern Bisterfeldt, a former Boise police captain and city councilman who died in 2022. He was a beloved mentor to John, now 48.

John’s forested arm is mostly a tribute to the men who have mattered most to him. Just below his elbow is a barred owl, a notoriously stubborn bird. It’s for his tenacious maternal grandfather who was paralyzed in a mining accident in his 20s. The great horned owl above that is for Jonh’s father, his mightiest influence. There are leaves for his paternal grandfather, a nephew and his brother-in-law Dan, and an image of the Gospel Hump Wilderness that John loves.

His left arm is for the women in his life. The Colorado Columbine flower is for Vern’s wife, Shirley. The prominent fox is for his grandmother. There is an octopus for a niece and a harbor seal for his sister, his original co-adventurer. When he was young, his family often made trips to the Oregon coast, and still does. The Heceta Head Lighthouse on his shoulder is for his mother; it’s one of her favorite places. There is an image of Cannon Beach. 

“The Oregon coast has been special to most of the women in my life,” he says.

For as long as John can remember, he’s imagined covering both of his arms in ink. 

“This was before sleeves were popular, before I’d seen them on anyone,” he says. “Like since I was a little kid, I’ve just had this in my mind.”

His vision now accomplished, his arms are a map of his personal geography, from the wilderness of northern Idaho westward to the sea. 

“Really it’s just where I came from and who I am. It’s my life.”

That life has been a sweeping one. In his youth, John was deeply religious and studied to become a pastor. He ended up spending 25 years working at Micron, first in construction as the campus grew and then in shipping. He has struggled with alcoholism; his last drink was almost four years ago. For the past 15 years, he has been a dedicated distance runner and marathoner, and before that he spent a long stretch as a tap and jazz dancer. Like many people in his family, he is an artist and has painted and sculpted. 

He has three sons, one now grown who he fought for through an extremely difficult divorce. With his current wife of 20 years, Cari, he has a preschooler and a new baby. “We weren’t supposed to be able to have kids,” he says. He’s a very engaged father.

He makes his living now working with young adults who are fresh out of prison and trying to rebuild. He was recently diagnosed with ADHD and says it has gone a long way in helping him to understand himself. Sometimes when his mind wanders, he centers himself by looking at the art on his arms.

His life has also been one of serendipity. 

Though he thought often about the sleeves he’d long pictured, he waited until a year and a half ago to begin them. For about three years before that, he’d been admiring on social media the work of a tattooer named Graham Jackson. He didn’t know much about him, including where Graham lived, but he felt drawn to his art. John would leave comments on his posts sometimes. When they finally started talking about working on something for John, he was stunned to learn that Graham was in Kuna, just down the road.

John and Graham

Graham has done all of John’s tattoos, and their relationship seems akin to magic. When they started, John would offer direction, even if it was fluid. But soon it felt unnecessary.

“The further we went, the more I just kept my mouth shut,” John says. “Graham hits it every time. There’s just this understanding between us. It’s what you want in anything you’re creating.”

Graham describes John as an extremely rare find – a genuine, intense and beautiful person who follows his heart and gives generously of himself. They’ve built a bond unlike any Graham has had in tattooing. 

“I’m a better artist and father because of the time I’ve spent with John,” Graham says. 

On John’s arms, they agree, they have made meaning together. 

Sometimes it’s taken John time to completely understand that meaning, but it always comes, like with the large deer on the inside of his right arm. John was running the Race to Robie Creek last year, well after Graham had inked the buck, when it hit him: “It’s me. I’m the deer, perched up here looking at everything below. I get to run through all of these places.”

There is a little bit of blank canvas remaining on John’s left arm. Whatever fills it, he is certain it will be right. He says the tattoos have made him feel comfortable in his skin in a way that he never did before. 

“This is how I was meant to be.”