Why Is Cybersigilism Everywhere? Here’s All You Need To Know
The Tribal Tattoo’s successor is also a fashion favourite
Every generation has a visual rebellion. For some it was punk spikes. For others, tribal tattoos. For Gen Z, it’s a mix of everything from the 90s up to the 2020s. Walk into any tattoo parlour, scroll long enough on Instagram, or glance at streetwear brand catalogues and you’ll notice: symbols that feel both ritualistic and machine-made. That collision of the archaic and the futuristic is called Cybersigilism.
First things first, Cybersigilism, or Neo-tribal, is a tattoo style that made its way into fashion and visual culture. It evolved in the late-night haze of 2010s Berlin’s club culture. These clubs, with their heavy industrial spaces and techno music, lent much to the dark, edgy tone that pervades these designs.
In short, Neo-tribal designs are what happens when the relics of the Y2K tribal tattoo era gets a software update. Quite literally so. There’s a little bit of everything in this aesthetic: you have the tribal runes and patterns inspired by Norse, Polynasian and Celtic designs, more commonplace tattoo motifs like hearts, eyes and the cross, a generous dose of sci-fi movie references (especially Alien), circuit-inspired designs, and spiky finishes that look like they were taken from metal brand logos. Computer glitches meet sci-fi and spiritual iconography to create a style that seems as if it were possessed by the digital instead of the paranormal. If you ask us, it sounds surreal on paper. Sometimes, it looks like the logo of the white Monster energy drink (which has also grown quite a lot in popularity lately).
By the 2020s, the art form had taken off in rave scenes in neighbouring countries, where Eastern European designers Demna and Guram Gvasalia adopted it into their collections for Balenciaga and Vêtements, respectively. Soon, it took off in runways across different fashion shows. Fast fashion retailers were quick to catch up, too.
Its popularity in club culture brought it to the forefront of the music scene. Travis Scott and Ken Carson got Cybersigilism tattoos. Billie Eilish, Dua Lipa and Grimes made them a popular body art style among the mainstream audiences. In East Asia, K-pop group Aespa developed their own futuristic aesthetic heavily inspired by Neo-tribal art. Playboi Carti featured it not only in his Narcissist album covers but also in his clothing line of the same name, further pushing the style as a streetwear staple.
Many think that the aesthetic’s widespread acclaim is a response to Gen Z’s desire to find meaning in culture and religious symbols in an increasingly digital world. In a world where our thoughts and identities are so enmeshed with the digital sphere, it would only make sense that the way we adorn our bodies would be influenced by the cyber, too.
But let’s not pretend it’s all profound. The backlash exists for a reason. The line between inspiration and appropriation has never been thinner, and many argue Cybersigilism repeats the mistakes of tribal tattoo culture: borrowing indigenous aesthetics stripped of context, meaning, or respect. Besides, as with all trends in an era of microtrends, pessimism towards the aesthetic is growing too, accelerated by the fact that the algorithm that the style romanticises is also making it stale through overexposure.
So where does Cybersigilism go from here? Most think it's headed into the vast graveyard of aesthetics that burned out as quickly as they appeared. Otherwise, it could be a stepping stone to another aesthetic that reshapes it with time. Either way, it’s a reminder that every era eventually wants its iconography, even if we have to build one ourselves from chrome, code, and borrowed symbols.