Blue floral bouquet tattoo in a Delft-inspired style across the upper back of a woman with blonde hair and a white lace top.

Blue floral bouquet on upper back

Botanical · Back · Colour · Photo

A woman is photographed from behind, showing a bouquet of large flowers, buds and leaves tattooed between the shoulder blades. The linework is fine and the petals are filled with layered tones of blue, with lighter highlights giving a painted, ceramic-like finish. The single blue ink stands out against the pale skin and white lace of the top, with the blonde hair framing the upper edge of the frame.

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Hendrik's crates were stacked to the galley beams, and the cook, Maaike Visser, counted them twice before the Harmonie cleared the Texel. Forty-two plates, each painted in Delft with a bouquet of peonies and buds, the blue so deep the glaze looked wet. The captain wanted them for the table in Batavia, where the governor's wife had written asking for something from home that did not smell of salt.

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On the fourth week out a squall came down off the Cape and threw the ship onto her side. Maaike was braced over the stove with a pot of barley in each hand when the rack gave way. She heard the crates go before she saw them, a sound like gulls lifting off all at once. In the morning the shelves were empty and the deck was ankle-deep in glass, and among it lay a single plate face up, its peony whole, the blue petals unchipped.

She did not tell the captain. She wrapped the plate in her spare apron, carried it to the bread locker and sat on a barrel of biscuit until the ship stopped rolling. The painter in Delft had shown her the trick of the highlights: leave the white of the glaze bare and let the light do the work. Maaike had watched her paint one petal for an hour and thought it a waste of a good afternoon.

At Batavia the governor's wife received forty-one plates and a letter of apology. The forty-second Maaike kept in her own cabin, propped against the water jug, and when the heat made her thoughts slow she traced the peony with one finger, feeling for the place where the brush had turned.

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