In the museum’s dim, climate-controlled vault in northern Italy, a 5,300-year-old man lies frozen in time.
His leathery skin is cracked and darkened, his limbs stiff in death, yet perfectly preserved by the glacial ice that claimed him millennia ago.
He is known to us as Ötzi the Iceman, and despite his ancient age, he’s still teaching us new things about the lives—and bodies—of our distant ancestors.
Here’s something most people don’t know: Ötzi has 61 tattoos, and until recently, we hadn’t even found them all.
Thanks to modern imaging technology and some serious scientific sleuthing, researchers at EURAC (the European Academy of Bolzano/Bozen) have uncovered a previously unknown tattoo on Ötzi’s ribcage—a subtle but striking discovery that may challenge everything we thought we knew about the purpose of prehistoric body art.
And that’s just the beginning.
The Oldest Ink in Europe
Ötzi wasn’t a warrior king or a high priest.
He was likely a common traveler of the Copper Age, possibly a herdsman or a trader. Y
et his preserved corpse—discovered in 1991 by hikers on the Tisenjoch Pass between Austria and Italy—has become one of the most studied archaeological finds in European history.
Every inch of his body has been scanned, X-rayed, analyzed, and reconstructed.
But it’s his tattoos, some of the oldest ever discovered, that have remained one of the most intriguing mysteries.
Tattoos are typically thought of as cultural symbols or forms of personal expression.
But Ötzi’s tattoos don’t look like the artwork we associate with modern body ink.
There are no animals, no tribal patterns, no symbols—just straight lines and crosses, etched in places that seem oddly specific.
Until now, researchers had cataloged 60 such tattoos on Ötzi’s body.
But thanks to a new multi-spectral imaging technique pioneered by EURAC researcher Marco Samadelli, they’ve identified a 61st marking, invisible to the naked eye and tucked away on the left side of his ribcage.
Why does that matter? Because this new find may upend the leading theory about why Ötzi was tattooed in the first place.
Tattoo Therapy? Maybe Not.
For years, scholars believed that Ötzi’s tattoos were medicinal in nature.
The logic was straightforward: many of his inked areas overlapped with acupuncture points or regions of the body associated with chronic pain—especially joints in the knees, ankles, and lower back.
Some researchers proposed that the tattoos may have served as early forms of therapy, applied to relieve pain or mark areas of treatment in a rudimentary form of medical practice.
It was a compelling theory—until now.
The newly discovered tattoo on Ötzi’s ribcage consists of four straight lines, etched horizontally.
Unlike the other tattoos on weight-bearing joints or along the spine, this ribcage tattoo doesn’t align with any known acupuncture points or obvious pain sites.
That anomaly throws a wrench into the tidy narrative of tattoos-as-therapy.
As EURAC noted in its press release, the discovery “has given researchers a new piece to add to the jigsaw puzzle when trying to tease out whether prehistoric tattoos had a therapeutic, symbolic or religious significance.“
That last possibility—symbolism or spirituality—may deserve a closer look.
A Shift in Perspective
Here’s where things take a turn.
For decades, the idea that prehistoric tattoos were purely functional has shaped most interpretations of ancient body art.
But if that were the whole story, we wouldn’t expect to find tattoos in places like the ribcage—a spot not especially prone to stress or pain, and one difficult to treat using primitive tools.
So what if these tattoos weren’t about pain relief, but about ritual? Or status? Or even personal identity?
Consider this: Ötzi was found with a copper axe, a complex tool for the era, suggesting he was of some importance.
He also carried a quiver of arrows, a knife, and medicinal plants, indicating a level of survival knowledge and preparation.
Could the tattoos have marked achievements, roles, or rites of passage? Could they have been linked to tribal identity or spiritual beliefs?
It’s possible that the ribcage tattoo represents a different category of marking—one less about pain and more about meaning.
Perhaps the Iceman’s tattoos tell a layered story, some of it therapeutic, some of it symbolic, and some of it deeply personal.
This reframing forces researchers to think differently about body art in ancient societies. Maybe the practice wasn’t uniform, but rather diverse and multifaceted—just as it is today.
How the New Tattoo Was Found
The discovery of Ötzi’s hidden tattoo wasn’t just about sharp eyes—it was about sharp tech.
Samadelli and his team at the South Tyrol Museum of Archaeology used a method called multi-spectral imaging, a technique that captures images across different wavelengths of light.
For each area of Ötzi’s body, the team took seven photographs, each using a different wavelength—ranging from ultraviolet (UV) to infrared (IR).
Why does this work?
Because carbon-based pigments, like the charcoal used in Ötzi’s tattoos, absorb light differently depending on the wavelength.
Some tattoos may be nearly invisible in regular light but glow vividly under UV or IR, depending on how deeply the pigment was embedded in the skin.
“The ultraviolet waves were adequate for the upper skin layers, whilst we resorted to infrared light for the lower layers,” explained Samadelli.
This approach allowed them to create a kind of depth map of the ink in the skin, revealing previously overlooked patterns.
And sure enough, in the shadows of the Iceman’s desiccated ribs, four narrow lines emerged, as clear and deliberate as the rest.
It’s a reminder that even now, more than three decades after Ötzi was pulled from the ice, we’re still discovering things about him.
Ancient Art, Modern Meaning
Tattoos today are ubiquitous. From full sleeves to minimalist finger designs, they can represent anything from heritage to heartbreak.
But the desire to mark the body with intention isn’t new. It’s at least 5,300 years old—and probably much older.
Ötzi’s tattoos are the oldest known in Europe, but they’re not the oldest in the world.
That title belongs to the Chinchorro mummies of South America and Egyptian mummies, some of which bear ink over 6,000 years old.
Still, Ötzi’s case is unique in its preservation, and in the sheer number and distribution of his tattoos.
And now, with new imaging techniques, researchers are reconsidering the function of these marks—not just on Ötzi, but in early human culture more broadly.
Maybe we need to abandon the idea that body art has to be one thing. Perhaps tattoos in ancient times were multifunctional, just as they are today.
They may have treated pain, marked spiritual significance, served as symbols of status or protection, or even told a personal story that only Ötzi himself fully understood.
From Iceman to Ink Legend
There’s something poetic about the fact that Ötzi’s story is still being told—not through words, but through lines etched in flesh.
Thousands of years ago, someone—perhaps even Ötzi himself—cut fine slashes into his skin and rubbed in charcoal pigment, creating a permanent record that would outlast entire civilizations.
Today, we see those marks not as crude scars but as messages from the past, rich with meaning, mystery, and human expression.
Whether those messages were meant to heal, protect, or proclaim, we may never know for sure.
But with each new discovery—like the tattoo hiding on his ribs—we get a little closer to understanding the people who walked this Earth long before us.
And in the end, that’s the real magic of Ötzi.
His story didn’t end on that Alpine pass. Thanks to science—and a little bit of ancient ink—it’s still being written.
Sources
Journal of Cultural Heritage, EURAC Research Press Release, io9.com, South Tyrol Museum of Archaeology
Let me know if you’d like a companion infographic or visual diagram showing where each of Ötzi’s tattoos is located!
