Today we’d like to introduce you to Willard Malebear.
Hi Willard, we’re thrilled to have a chance to learn your story today. So, before we get into specifics, maybe you can briefly walk us through how you got to where you are today?
My name is Willard Malebear Jr. I’m Huŋkpapȟa Lakota, enrolled at Standing Rock, a father of five, an artist since birth, and a community builder based in Minneapolis. Creating has always been a part of me. Before I understood recovery, before I understood business, before I understood leadership — I understood drawing. Art was the first language I ever felt fluent in.
My path into this work wasn’t linear. It came through struggle, accountability, and rebuilding my life from the inside out. There was a time when I was incarcerated, battling addiction, and disconnected from myself and my culture. Even then, art never left me. Drawing became meditation. Creativity became medicine. It slowed my mind down enough to reflect. Over time, I realized what I was experiencing wasn’t just self-expression — it was healing. It was regulation. It was a way back to myself.
When I came home, I committed to sobriety and to building something different — not just for me, but for my five children. Fatherhood sharpened everything. It made me look at the kind of legacy I wanted to leave. I opened Iktomi Tattoo as a space rooted in intention, culture, and artistry. Tattooing gave me a way to provide, but it also deepened my understanding that permanent marks, when done in a good way, can be ceremony. They can restore identity. They can empower people to stand stronger in who they are.
As my recovery strengthened, I felt called to build something bigger than my own career. That’s how Art Shelf was born — a nonprofit that operates like a food shelf, but for art supplies. I had seen how many people, especially youth, people in recovery, and those re-entering society, didn’t have access to creative materials. I knew firsthand that access to art can interrupt cycles of harm. It can de-escalate crisis. It can give someone purpose on a hard day. So we created a free creative studio and supply distribution hub where anyone can walk in and make art without barriers.
Today, I facilitate creative wellness programs inside correctional facilities — including the same prison I was once housed in. That full-circle experience humbles me every time. Standing in that space not as an inmate but as a mentor is proof that transformation is real. I’ve also organized Indigenous-centered tattoo, arts, and wellness gatherings that uplift Native artists and cultural practitioners, because revitalization isn’t optional — it’s necessary.
Everything I do now — tattooing, teaching, organizing, parenting — is rooted in one belief: creativity is sacred. For Indigenous people especially, art is not a hobby. It’s memory. It’s ceremony. It’s sovereignty. When we create, we remember who we are.
I’m still growing. Still learning. But I’m committed to building spaces where people feel seen, where culture is honored, and where creativity is accessible as a path to healing.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. Starting my businesses and now maintaining a nonprofit have been some of the biggest challenges of my life. I didn’t come from a background of formal business training — I kind of jumped into everything with vision, instinct, and faith. A lot of the time I feel like I’m racing to learn how to grow before everything pops. I’m building the plane while flying it.
There have been financial pressures, especially running a nonprofit without consistent grant funding. There have been moments of wondering if I took on too much. Balancing fatherhood, sobriety, leadership, creativity, and community responsibility isn’t light work. Sometimes it feels like I’m carrying multiple worlds at once.
But every struggle has forced growth. I’ve had to learn structure, communication, boundaries, and patience. I’ve had to humble myself and ask for help. I’ve had to stay disciplined when things felt uncertain. And at the end of the day, sticking to my integrity and work ethic always pays off. I don’t cut corners. I don’t move in a way that compromises who I am or what I stand for.
The road hasn’t been smooth, but it’s been meaningful. Every challenge has strengthened my leadership and deepened my purpose. And I’ve learned that pressure doesn’t pop you if your foundation is solid. It shapes you.
Appreciate you sharing that. What else should we know about what you do?
Most people probably know me first as a tattoo artist. Tattooing has been my main public-facing craft for years, and it’s something I take very seriously. I specialize in detailed black and grey work, Indigenous-inspired designs done in a good way, and pieces that feel intentional — not just aesthetic, but meaningful. For me, tattooing isn’t just about putting ink in skin. It’s ceremony, storytelling, identity work.
But if I’m being honest, my deepest passion has always been drawing and painting. I’ve been an artist since I was a kid — that’s my first love. Give me a pencil and paper and I’m home. Drawing feels like the most accessible form of wellness for me. It’s so fluid and forgiving. I always say it feels like sculpting with air. There’s something about graphite moving across paper that regulates my nervous system. It slows my mind down. It allows emotion to move without pressure.
I’ve painted large scale murals, studied graphic design, built brands, created logos, and explored digital art — and I genuinely love all forms of creativity. I don’t box myself into one medium. If it involves creating something from nothing, I’m interested.
What I’m most proud of, though, isn’t just the artwork, it’s the impact of it. I’m proud that I’ve been able to use art as a tool for recovery, for teaching inside prisons, for creating safe spaces through Art Shelf, and for helping other people reconnect with themselves. I’m proud that my creativity isn’t isolated to galleries or social media — it lives in community spaces, in ceremony, in classrooms, in correctional facilities.
What sets me apart is that my art isn’t separate from my life. It’s integrated into my healing, my fatherhood, my culture, and my leadership. I don’t just create for aesthetics, I create for transformation. And I genuinely believe creativity is one of the most powerful wellness tools we have access to.
We all have a different way of looking at and defining success. How do you define success?
To me, success isn’t measured in followers, recognition, or the number of zeros in a bank account. I’ve experienced enough to know that those things don’t create lasting pride or peace. They can feel good for a moment, but they don’t sustain you.
Success, for me, is daily acceptance. It’s going to bed at night proud of how I moved through the day. It’s knowing I stayed in my integrity, that I showed up for my children, my community, and myself in a real way. If I can lay my head down feeling aligned with my values and accepting of where I’m at in life, even if I’m still building, still growing, that’s success.
It’s about feeling grounded in my place in the universe. Not comparing. Not chasing. Just being present, accountable, and proud of the effort.
Climbing ladders whether social media, business, or status has never brought me continuous pride. But living in alignment does. And that’s the kind of success I’m after.
Pricing:
- tattooing – $200 an hour, Full day $1200 8+ hrs.
- Art Shelf is FREE!
Contact Info:
- Website: www.iktomitattoo.com and www.artshelf.org
- Instagram: @willardtattoos @artshelforg @iktomitattoominneapolis
