Colour tattoo of an Art Nouveau style woman with red hair and white flowers on an upper arm, set against a green background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Art Nouveau woman with red hair on upper arm

Neo-trad · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A woman with flowing red hair and white blossoms in her hair is tattooed across the upper arm and shoulder, looking to one side with a red wrap draped over her shoulder. The linework is bold and dark, with soft, blended shading on the face and skin tones. Greens, reds and whites dominate the composition, and pale foliage and swirling vines fill the background around the figure.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Odile,

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The Marguerite is tied up below the weir at Bougival and the ice has finally gone off the reeds, so I can write without my fingers cramping. You will laugh at what I have done. The poster man who came down the towpath in October, the one with paint under his nails and no hat, has finished his picture of me. He calls it La Dame du Bief, though I told him camellias are not what grows on our side of the river. He painted white peonies from the cut ones Mother Brisset keeps in jam jars on the lock-house sill, and he was very cross when I turned my head to watch the lock gates.

He pinned the red shawl across my shoulder himself, the one you sent from Rouen, and asked me to look past him at something I could not see. So I thought of the sound the lock makes when the gates swing open, a long groan like a cow in a barn, and I thought of you, and the expression he wanted came easily. He worked on the green behind me for a week, vines and bruised leaves, until the whole wall looked like the inside of a bottle held up to the sun.

When he showed me the finished sheet, I did not recognise the woman. She looked calm and rich and certain of something, which I have never once been. He has promised twenty copies for the kiosks at the station, and he says the bargemen will buy them for their wives. I have kept the original rolled under my bunk, where the damp cannot reach it. Come in June and see her with your own eyes. Bring the good scissors, and tell me honestly whether you think she would have jumped the lock with us.

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