Long before commercial tattoo shops existed, aftercare existed. Different cultures developed different methods, but the underlying need was the same: protect the work, let the body heal.

In many traditions, aftercare properties were built directly into the tattooing process itself:

Polynesian Artists used soot from burnt candlenuts mixed with sugar cane juice. Both have natural antibacterial properties.
Inuit Artists worked with pigments incorporating seal oil and ammonia-rich compounds historically used as antimicrobials.
A 1,000-year-old Peruvian mummy studied by researcher Maria Anna Pabst bore tattoos made from partially burnt plant material rather than common soot, suggesting the ink itself may have carried medicinal intent.
Maori Artists still practice dry healing today, treating tattoos as wounds the body can resolve on its own with minimal interference.

Beyond the ink, animal fats and plant oils served widely as post-application treatments. Olive oil, rendered fish oils, and tallow provided moisture and a protective barrier over healing skin. Freshly burned charcoal, used in many ancient pigments, is initially sterile and has mild antibacterial properties.

The evidence is in the mummies. Egyptian, Peruvian, Siberian, and Philippine mummies show tattoos that healed cleanly, with little scarring around the work. These cultures figured out aftercare long before the modern industry started.

That doesn't mean infection wasn't real. Even today, with sterile equipment and antibiotics, up to 5% of professional tattoos develop some level of infection. Ancient rates were almost certainly higher. The principle behind early aftercare was sound. The execution didn't always match. But the surviving evidence shows that, more often than not, the practices worked.