How Bullying, Vikings and Death Shaped One of Black Metal’s Most Influential Artists

Jannicke Wiese-Hansen: “I was bullied and told I was fat. Studs and heavy metal became my salvation.” Black. Dramatic. Bare bones, skeletons, Gothic references and an uncompromising aesthetic. For decades, tattoo artist and visual artist Jannicke Wiese-Hansen has helped shape some of the most iconic imagery in Norwegian black metal. This summer, she is exhibiting work at Tons of Art, the art exhibition accompanying Oslo’s Tons of Rock festival.

When Styletalk met her at the Inferno Festival earlier this year, we spoke about style, identity and a lifelong fascination with darkness.

“When did you first become drawn to the dark and macabre?”

“It started when I was bullied at primary school,” she says.

Clothing as Armour
Wiese-Hansen’s fascination with death began early. Her mother worked at Bergen’s Natural History Museum, and as a child she was allowed to wander among collections of skeletons, skulls and preserved specimens. Death was presented as something tangible and matter-of-fact — and that was precisely what intrigued her.

“I don’t think I ever learned to see skeletons and skulls as grotesque or frightening. They were simply something completely natural.”

At the same time, she developed an interest in fantasy, role-playing games, history and Viking culture. Those interests gradually found their way into her appearance. She began dressing in black, wearing studs and embracing the aesthetics of heavy metal. The style also became a shield against the bullying she endured throughout much of her childhood.

“I had a lot of insecurities about my appearance and was bullied for being fat,” she says.

She smiles slightly when looking back at old photographs. The irony, she notes, is that she was never overweight at all.

“When I look at pictures now, I wasn’t fat in the slightest. That’s the most ironic thing about it.”

At the time, however, the bullying felt unbearable.

“It got so bad that I would feel sick and throw up just from seeing the school building. I’d have to go home. Then the school counsellor got involved and started asking whether something was wrong at home. Typical. But everything that was wrong was at school. My mum had no idea. She was a single mother, and I never told her what was happening.”

The Transformation
The change came almost by accident. A friend lent her a pair of black tights.

“She was a sort of Siouxsie and the Banshees goth-punk girl, and she let me try on a pair of her tights. As I stood looking at myself in the mirror, her father came downstairs and said: ‘Well, those are really slimming on you.’”

That was all it took.

Bright 1980s fashions were replaced by black clothing and metal studs. Pop music gave way to something heavier.

“Two of my best friends had discovered Mötley Crüe and Iron Maiden. I jumped straight from pop to Anthrax. Then it quickly progressed to Kreator and Metallica.”

The style became a shell, a suit of armour that created distance between herself and the outside world.

“If people made fun of me then, it was because of my clothes. Not because of me. That was important for my self-esteem.”

Her confidence truly blossomed after ninth grade, when she spent a year at high school in Anacortes, north of Seattle, where her father lived. She remembers it as liberating — arriving as an outsider and being given the opportunity to reinvent herself.

“It was incredibly freeing. There was rivalry between the so-called stoners and jocks, sure. But there wasn’t any bullying. I was an outsider, and people were simply curious whether my style was fashionable back home in Norway. I ended up making friends across all sorts of different groups.”

Like Unicorns
Black metal is often associated with extremity and provocation, but the culture has also long been shaped by a deep interest in history, literature, art and mythology. Its lyrics frequently explore religion, nature, death and existential questions, while its aesthetics draw on Norse heritage, medieval imagery, Gothic traditions and folklore.

In Bergen during the late 1980s, however, there were very few girls involved in the metal scene.

“There were three girls in the city who liked thrash metal, and later black metal. Apparently we were like unicorns,” she laughs.

“The guys had practically never met girls who were into metal, so we quickly became part of the gang. It was a very inclusive environment.”

“It seems like a surprisingly literary and historically conscious subculture.”

“There are certainly a lot of intellectual people in the scene. Maybe there’s a bit more depth and poetry, and a little less hard partying than in the American thrash metal scene. People were interested in literature, art and historical references.”

“In that sense, it almost sounds like it has something in common with goth culture?”

“Yes, there are a lot of similarities between goth and black metal. But I think black metal is a naked, raw and primitive version of goth. The mindset is similar, but it looks and sounds completely different. And Norwegian black metal is something unique.”

Below: some of Wiese-Hansen’s distinctive woodcarving-inspired art.

Skin and Graphic Design
As her passion for music grew, so did her fascination with tattooing. She apprenticed at Let’s Buzz, then Bergen’s only tattoo studio, while simultaneously designing logos and album artwork for bands that would go on to make Norwegian black metal famous around the world.

The first logo she designed was for Immortal, commissioned by Demonaz, the stage name of Harald Nævdal. More work followed: a demo logo and two album covers for Burzum, along with logos for Enslaved, Ancient, Orcustus and Gaahls Wyrd. She also created the cover artwork for Satyricon’s debut album, Dark Medieval Times.

“I had no formal art education then, and I still don’t. To be honest, I never made it into art school. Tattooing was simply too much fun.”

A Mythologised Scene
By the early 1990s, Norwegian black metal had become known far beyond Norway’s borders. It was also marked by a series of tragic events, including church burnings and murders.

Wiese-Hansen was still in her late teens when it all unfolded. People within the scene knew more than they publicly admitted, she says, but speaking to the police was unthinkable.

“No one wanted to be a snitch.”

“Many people were reading Madame Blavatsky and Aleister Crowley. People were interested in voodoo. We existed inside a deep, dark bubble.”

The tragedies helped build the mythology surrounding black metal, but Wiese-Hansen believes it is far too simplistic to reduce an entire artistic and musical movement to those events alone.

According to fans across the world, Norwegian black metal remains something uniquely distinctive.

“A connection to nature. To our history. To Norse culture,” she says, nodding.

The Artist Behind the Imagery
Despite having created logos and artwork for some of black metal’s most influential bands (photos above), Wiese-Hansen has never been comfortable claiming centre stage.

“No, I didn’t exactly go around saying, ‘I made that.’ When the Burzum cover became iconic, it almost felt boastful to claim ownership of it.”

Nor does she see herself as the sole architect of black metal’s visual identity.

“I don’t want to take credit for that. I’m one of many. Not everyone has been visible. There’s the incredibly talented Tania Stene, for example, who doesn’t particularly enjoy attention. And the Belgian artist Christophe Szpajdel, who has created countless logos and remains just as relevant today.”

Symbols, Tattoos and Cultural Appropriation
Today, Wiese-Hansen runs Nidhogg Tattoo Studio alongside Annlaug Maria Tolo. Located in an old building dating from 1705 on Bergen’s historic Bryggen waterfront, the studio attracts black metal-fans from all around the world. Around 60 per cent of her customers come from abroad.

The revival of Norse symbolism has become increasingly complicated in recent years, as far-right groups have attempted to appropriate elements of Viking imagery. Wiese-Hansen believes it is important to reclaim those symbols.

“For example, I’ve sometimes wondered what would happen if I arrived in the United States today with this arm,” she says, rolling up her sleeve.

Her left arm is covered by a tattoo inspired by Haida art from the Indigenous peoples of North America’s Pacific Northwest.

“In the 1990s, this was a tribute arm dedicated to the incredible artistry of Indigenous peoples. Today things have become much more complicated because of discussions around cultural appropriation.”

Rock Stars and Tattoos

For many people, tattoos mark life’s defining moments — love, heartbreak, anger, birth and loss. They can also become reminders people later regret.

“I’ve actually removed Tommy Lee’s tattooed wedding ring,” she laughs.

The notorious Mötley Crüe drummer and Pamela Anderson formed one of the most scandalized celebrity couples of the 1990s. At the time, Wiese-Hansen was working at a tattoo studio in Austin, Texas, when Tommy Lee walked in alongside Nikki Sixx and asked for his tattooed wedding ring to be removed.

“It was completely surreal. But I remember them both being incredibly nice. I also tattooed several other things on Tommy Lee.”

Later, she watched him on stage. At one point he raised his hand toward the giant jumbotron and shouted:

“Finally free!”

From Church Burnings to Buckingham Palace

Today, Norwegian black metal hangs in museums. Album covers are exhibited in galleries, and the movement’s aesthetics are analysed by art historians and cultural scholars.

Wiese-Hansen herself has held solo exhibitions and has designed commemorative coins for the British Crown Dependency of the Isle of Man. The commission came through the Norwegian company Samlerhuset and ultimately required approval from Buckingham Palace.

“Who was easier to satisfy, a notorious musician like Varg Vikernes or Buckingham Palace?”

“About equally demanding,” she laughs, joking that a future autobiography should be titled From Church Burnings to Buckingham Palace.

But what happens when a counterculture becomes institutionally recognised? Does it lose some of its power?

“I don’t think so. There will always be people who keep what they do underground. Some still manage it. But trying to be outrageously extreme at 45 isn’t necessarily as flattering as it is when you’re 20. I think it’s wonderful that people today recognise the quality and seriousness of black metal and acknowledge just how much talent and hard work lies behind it.”

You can see some of Jannicke Wiese-Hansen’s art at Tons of Art this month from 24th – 27th of June, where she exhibits her work along with several other artists, during the Tons of Rock music festival.

All private photos are used with Wiese-Hansen’s kind permission.