The magical tattoo artists of Cambodia

He has a monkey on a chain. And an owl - also chained. Teven Say, a master of magical tattoos, strokes both of his familiars and regards me with a proud gaze. He is sitting in a large shed in Siem Reap, Cambodia. Stripped to the waist, his muscular torso is webbed with ink. Tangled outlines of gods and sacred geometry weave around his fists and arms like wires in a fuse box, pulsing with an ancient magic.

One of his students connects a tattoo gun to a battery pack. Teven Say dips the needle in black ink and tells me to lay down. I start sweating.

Magical tattoos, known as sak yant in Khmer - the language of Cambodia - are believed to render their wearers impervious to bullets, protect them from misfortune and endow them with sexual magnetism. While the tradition prevails throughout Southeast Asia, little is known about the art in Cambodia, partly because of a 1920 royal ordinance that forbade monks from tattooing and partly because the remaining practitioners were killed during the Khmer Rouge genocide and civil war. Today, traditional Cambodian sak yant is especially difficult to find because those who are still practising the art form are reluctant to publicise their activities.

"Cambodians are protective of tattoo designs," says American journalist Ryun Patterson, whose book, Vanishing Act: a Glimpse into Cambodia's World of Magic, was released this year, "because they think they're very powerful and can be misused if given to the wrong person."

Teven Say is among the handful of tattoo masters left. He and others I meet describe arduous treks through the war-scorched kingdom searching out the last remaining holders of this torn tradition. They collect tattoo designs into personal grimoires and learn the occult techniques needed to transfer power into the designs.

"I meditate every day," says Teven Say. "When I tattoo, I recite a secret mantra I learned from a hermit in the jungle."