Colour tattoo of a red chrysanthemum with blue ribbon-like petals and small goldfish, placed on a person's upper back near the shoulder blade.

Chrysanthemum with goldfish on a shoulder blade

Japanese · Back · Colour · Photo

A large chrysanthemum bloom made of curling red, orange and crimson petals sits over the shoulder blade, with pale blue ribbon-like tendrils trailing outwards. Small orange goldfish swim among the petals, and the petals are shaded with soft gradients that give them volume. The flower fills the centre of the frame against plain skin, with the top of the shoulder and some hair visible at the edges.

Japanese Realism Back Chrysanthemum Flower Goldfish Fish Ribbon Petal

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

Dear Nan, the goldfish came aboard at Valparaíso in a rain barrel lashed to the galley door, three of them, orange as marmalade, and the cook swears they were meant for the captain's table until he saw how they swam in circles whenever the ship rolled. I have been feeding them the crusts from my biscuit ration ever since. You will say I am soft. You always did.

Keep reading

The chrysanthemum is the other matter. Mr Ashdown, the bosun, had it inked on his back in Yokohama years ago, and he showed me the picture when we were off the Horn and the sky had gone the colour of wet slate. He said the petals curl because the flower is always turning toward whatever light it can find, and that the blue ribbons are the wind, which is the only thing on a ship that never stops. I asked him whether the fish were meant to be the crew. He laughed so hard he had to sit down on a coil of rope.

Last night the glass fell fast and we took in all sail. In the lamp light I watched the orange fish go round and round in their barrel and thought of the red bloom spread across his shoulder, how he never once let his shirt come off in the heat. Then the wind dropped and the stars came out, and the bosun stood by the rail with his collar open, letting the night air get at the old colours.

We raise Falmouth in nine days if the wind holds. The fish will go ashore in a jam jar, I have decided, and I will carry them up the lane to the pond behind the chapel. Tell Dad I am keeping the good boots dry and that I have stopped being sick over the side. Your loving grandchild, Wren.