He Was Everywhere, and He Was Always Kind Remembering Lyle Tuttle – A True Dead Idol

I met Lyle Tuttle in 2013. At the time, I didn’t realize how often our paths would cross, or how much those moments would stick with me. But somehow—without fail—he kept showing up. At conventions, in quiet corners, on stages, or just floating through a room like a living relic of tattoo history. Wide-eyed. Smiling. Present.

Lyle had that rare kind of presence. The kind that made the moment feel bigger just by being in it. I ran into him a few times a year until he passed, and every time felt like a reminder of what it means to leave a mark—not just on skin, but on people, on culture, on time itself.

He was a showman. A historian. A hell of a storyteller.

He didn’t tattoo Janis Joplin—Pat Martynuik did—but Lyle made the world believe it. He understood something deeper than fact: that to keep tattooing alive, it needed more than skill. It needed a mythos. A spotlight. A stage. And he stepped right into that role without hesitation.

At Dead Idols, we’re not obsessed with getting every detail historically perfect. We’re here to preserve the soul of those who shaped the path. The ones who made the craft feel sacred. The ones who turned the lights on and let the world see it for what it was—raw, imperfect, beautiful.

Lyle Tuttle made tattooing feel big.

Loud.

Important.

He turned a subculture into a cultural marker.

That’s why he’s a Dead Idol.

Thank you, Lyle—for the time, the stories, the spark.

We’re still out here holding the line.