Black brushstroke cross tattoo with the words Galatians 2:20 in script below it, on the upper back shoulder of a woman seen from behind against a mountain view.

Brushstroke cross with Galatians 2:20 on shoulder

Lettering · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A woman seen from behind shows a black brushstroke cross on her upper back shoulder, with the verse reference Galatians 2:20 written in black script beneath it. The cross has bold, dry-brush edges and the lettering is thin and neat. The image is in black and grey, with the sharp tattoo set against a grey top, long hair and a blurred green mountain landscape.

Lettering Shoulder Cross Bible verse Script Mountain Brushstroke

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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

Dear Maggie, The sign for the Fenwick hardware went up on Tuesday, but the wind lifted the first coat off the ladder rail and I've had to start the W again. Your gran would have laughed. Forty years of lettering pubs and feed merchants and I still can't keep a brush dry on a ridge in August.

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Mr Dacre wants a cross painted on the lookout hut at Gallows Knap, where the path comes out above the valley. He wants it black and he wants it to look like someone was in a hurry. I told him that's the hardest thing to paint. You load the brush, press once, and lift before the hair runs dry. Three strokes. The upright first, long and leaning a little, because if you start with the crossbar you'll chase it all afternoon.

The first attempt I scrubbed off with turpentine after an hour, because the crossbar sat there like a dropped plank. The second morning I stopped trying to be neat and let the bristles skip over the rough stone. Dry brush on rock leaves gaps, and the gaps are what made it look like breath. Underneath I put the reference in small plain capitals, the way the old cemetery men did, so anyone who climbs up will know where to look for the words.

When I finished, the sun came round and the whole valley went gold behind it. A walker stopped on the path below and stood a long while looking up at the cross, then at the hills, and didn't say a word. I didn't tell him who painted it. I packed the tins, left the brush in its jar dry as a bone, and walked down before the light went. Write when the apples are in. Love, Auntie Bea.