In the heart of the western Balkans, an ancient tattooing tradition quietly endured for centuries, passed down through generations by the steady hands of mothers.
Known as sicanje, this ritual was far more than decorative—it was a sacred practice rooted in protection, identity, and belonging.
While most widely associated with Catholic Croats in central Bosnia and Herzegovina and parts of the Dalmatian region of Croatia, it was also practiced among Albanians and Vlach women, suggesting a deep, pre-Christian origin that predates even the arrival of the Slavs to the Balkans.
Old women with tattoos characteristic for Croatian Catholics in Bosnia. Central Bosnia, late 1930s.
Traces of this custom reach back to the Illyrian period, although scholars documented it in the 19th century.
Though largely forgotten today, sicanje was once widespread. It left visible marks on the skin, but even more profound ones on memory and tradition.
The practice, however, was not universally accepted—Eastern Orthodox Slavs, for instance, disapproved of the custom, often viewing it with disdain.
In the late 19th century, archaeologist Ćiro Truhelka began documenting these tattoos, becoming one of the earliest scholars to study and illustrate them.
His work was followed by that of Dr. Leopold Glück, who published a detailed report in Vienna in 1894 titled The Tattooing of Skin Among the Catholics of Bosnia and Herzegovina.
Sarajevan Catholic, 1912. Photo by Auguste Léon.
The tattoos were commonly applied to young girls—sometimes boys—starting as early as six years old.
The process usually took place between the feast of Saint Joseph in March and the feast of Saint John the Baptist in June, both dates rich in cultural and religious symbolism.
Women tattooed visible parts of their bodies—hands, wrists, cheeks, brows, even just below the neck—with symbols tied to both Christian belief and pre-Christian spiritual traditions. Boys were typically tattooed on the right arm, chest, forehead, or on the pointer finger.
Drawing of a Bosnian tattooed woman from the late 19th century.
The most frequently used symbols included the cross (križ), bracelet-like bands (narukvica), fence motifs (ograda), and branch or twig designs (grančica).
Variations of the cross often incorporated smaller branching lines, referred to as jelica or “little pine,” resembling delicate twigs. Bracelet designs wrapped around the wrists, often accompanied by fence-like patterns or tiny crosses.
Pagan elements also appeared in these designs—most notably, simple circles linked to the traditional communal kolo dances.
The result was a unique blend of Christian and pagan imagery, merged not with contradiction, but with continuity, symbolizing nature, family, and faith all at once.
An old Croatian woman showing her tattoos which the got when she was a kid.
British anthropologist Edith Durham, known for her extensive research in the Balkans, offered one of the clearest interpretations of these symbolic patterns.
During her fieldwork in the Albanian highlands of Thethi–Shala, she was able to decipher the meaning behind certain Catholic tattoo motifs only after consulting local Albanians.
They explained that the small lines surrounding a semicircle on an ancient gravestone represented light—emanating from both the Sun (Dielli) and the Moon (Hëna), the latter often depicted as a crescent.
This revelation helped reframe the designs seen in Bosnian Catholic tattoos not just as arbitrary decorative elements, but as stylized representations of natural forces—sun rays, moonlight, and divine symbols—reflecting a reverence for the celestial world.
Tattoos on a Catholic woman from the Lašva Valley in central Bosnia.
The tradition of sicanje began to fade after World War II, particularly with the rise of socialist Yugoslavia, which discouraged folk customs and religious expressions.
By the mid-20th century, the practice had largely vanished, surviving only on the weathered skin of elderly women in remote villages.
These tattoos, once signs of spiritual strength and familial connection, were slowly replaced by new social norms and ideologies.
Today, however, there is a quiet revival. Across parts of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina, modern tattoo artists have begun reinterpreting traditional sicanje motifs using contemporary techniques.
A Catholic woman from Sarajevo shows her tattoos, 1912.
Tattoo patterns of Catholic women (and one man) in Bosnia (bottom). Drawn by Edith Durham in the early 20th century. Many of those patterns also appear on Albanian traditional art (graves, jewellery, embroidery, and house carvings).
Tattoos on a man’s hand, from Bosnia.
A group of Catholic women showing their hand tattoos. Photo by Matija Krivošić.
Bosnian tattoo artist Luka Tomic holds immersive art exhibits where visitors learn about the ancient tradition of sicanje and receive tattoos inspired by it. Photo by Luka Tomic.
Veronika Crnjac (left) and Zora Mendeš were among dozens of women interviewed in Bosnia in 2019 as part of a project to document traditional sicanje. Photo by Marija Maracic.
A Catholic women from Bosnia showing her hand tattoos.
A Catholic women from Bosnia showing her hand tattoos.
A Catholic women from Bosnia showing her hand tattoos.
Traditional designs used in tattoos.
Traditional tattooing of Catholics of Bosnia.
(Photo credit: RHP / Wikimedia Commons / Flickr).