Black and grey traditional tattoo of an anchor with rope and a Chi-Rho style symbol on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Anchor with Chi-Rho symbol on upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A traditional style anchor with coiled rope at its arms and shank, with a Chi-Rho style monogram, a P crossed by an X, sitting over the anchor's centre. The linework is bold and the shading is smooth, using black ink with grey and blue-grey tones on the rope and anchor flukes. The design is centred on the outer upper arm against a plain background of skin and a workspace with a monitor and table.

Traditional Upper arm Anchor Rope Monogram

Find an artist for this

Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Your nan kept the anchor in a biscuit tin on the windowsill of the fourteenth floor, tucked under the tea towels, and you were never allowed to open it on your own. The lift in Aldine House had been broken since the spring, so every visit meant seventy-two concrete steps, past landings that smelled of bleach and somebody's onions. She had come up from the Tyne docks in 1961, back when there were still ships to load, and she said the lift had been the first thing the council promised and the last thing they fixed.

Keep reading

The mark on the anchor was a P with an X driven through its stem, which Father Keogh at St Anne's had told her stood for Christ. Dennis, her husband, had been a rigger on the quay, and he put the same meaning in plainer English: hold fast. He taught you a knot once on the back of a fag packet, a round turn and two half hitches, and made you tie it blind until your fingers knew it better than your eyes.

Last month a letter came with the council crest saying Aldine House would come down in the autumn. Nan was already in the home by then, so it fell to you to clear the windowsill. You wrapped the tin in a tea towel and carried it down, counting the landings the way she used to count them going up. At the bottom the lift doors had been propped open with a brick, and the light inside was yellow and steady, as if the building had decided to let you go.