Full back tattoo of a woman in a flowing dress with red flowers in her hair, framed by curling vines in an Art Nouveau style across the back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Art Nouveau woman and vines across a full back

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A large tattoo covers the whole back, showing a woman in a flowing robe with red flowers in her hair, leaning forward beside a tall plant stem. Curling ornamental vines frame the figure at the top, and a lace-like scrolled band sits across the lower back. The shading is soft and painterly, with muted ochre, orange, green and red tones that fade into the skin.

Back Woman Red flower Vine Scroll

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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

Madame Oriel had painted the poster for the Michaelmas fair in a single week, and by Thursday the whole of Lyme Green could not stop talking about the woman in it. She stood in a robe the colour of wet sand, red poppies pinned in her hair, one hand resting on a stem of bindweed taller than a man. Dorcas Pell, who ran the coconut shy, swore she had seen the poppies move when the wind came off the marsh.

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The fair left on the Monday, a string of caravans and a dodgem ride hauled by a lorry with a cracked windscreen. Ned Harrow drove the lorry and had never once looked twice at a poster, but he found this one pasted to the back door of the canteen tent in Wrexham. The woman had turned her head. Her face was towards the road now, not the grass, and the vines around her had crept a finger's width further down the paper.

He folded it into the glovebox and said nothing to anyone. At each stop he unfolded it under the cab lamp and found the vines longer, the ochre in the ground deeper, the lace band along the bottom a little more finished, as if someone were still working on it with a very fine brush. At Llandudno he pulled onto the sea road and wound the window down, and the salt air lifted the corner of the paper.

By the time the fair reached the coast the sheet was pale at the edges and the poppies were a shade redder. Ned pinned it to the dashboard, where the sun could reach it, and drove on with one hand on the wheel and the other still on the bindweed of her stem, which had wrapped twice around his wrist in the night and left no mark at all.