Tattoo of a head in a knit beanie and scarf, with a mountain and treeline landscape filling the face, shown on a limb in grey and teal.

Beanie head with mountain landscape tattoo

Other · Mixed · Photo

A head in profile wears a knitted beanie and a scarf, and the face is filled with layered mountain peaks and a dark treeline. The linework is bold with textured knit shading on the hat and scarf, and the mountains use soft grey gradients. Teal green highlights and a few muted pink tones add colour against the grey and black, and the design sits centred on a fleshy limb.

Other Head Scarf Mountain Landscape Profile

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

Morag had knitted for the Glenfarran shepherds for thirty winters, and she knew each man by his stitch. Calum wanted a close rib, tight enough to keep the wind from his ears. Eilidh's husband liked his loose so he could hear the dogs. Nobody asked her for a pattern that looked like the hills, but that was what came off her needles the winter the snow sat on Ben Ardle until April.

Keep reading

She worked the hat in charcoal and grey, with two strands of wool dyed the green of the loch in summer. When Calum came for it she told him to hold it up to the window. Where the teal threads crossed the dark, peaks showed through the weave, a ridge where the ribbing dipped, a line of pines at the brim where the purl stitches bunched like shadow. He turned it round twice and said nothing, which from Calum was praise.

He went up in February with the flock and the new hat, and the weather came down on the third day. Morag sat by the stove with her own needles going, counting rows the way she had counted them through every bad winter. On the fourth morning the door rattled and Calum was on the step, snow to his knees, the hat pulled low. He held out his hand. In his palm lay a small grey stone with a green vein through it, and he said that the ridge had kept him right when there was nothing else to steer by.

Morag took the stone and set it on the sill beside the wool, where the light from the window could reach it. She cast on that night for a second hat, and this time she left the dark stitches loose at the top, so the mountains would have room to breathe.