Colour Neo-trad style floral tattoo with blue scrolls, orange flowers and green leaves on the side of the torso, near the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Floral scrollwork on the side of the torso

Botanical · Ribs · Colour · Photo

A large floral design of scrolling blue stems, orange and red blossoms, yellow buds and green leaves, outlined in black, runs diagonally across the side of the torso. The blue shading is smooth and saturated, with orange and yellow highlights and bold black linework. The design fills the right two thirds of the frame, with the navel visible at the left edge.

Botanical Neo-trad Ribs Flower Scrollwork Leaves Bud Blossom

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Ingrid had mixed the blue three times before the paint would sit right, grinding the pigment into linseed until it held the colour of a fjord under cloud. Her uncle Lars said a stroke that dried wrong was a stroke that lied, so she worked slowly on the bridal kist while the farm dogs slept in the yard and the stove ticked down.

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The commission came from the Hauge farm, where the daughter was marrying a man from over the ridge. Her mother wanted roses, the proper red kind, but Ingrid painted the scrolls first, curling blue stems that rose from the lid and turned back on themselves like a wave deciding against the shore. She set in orange blossoms, then yellow buds, then the three green leaves that were her habit, lifting the brush at the last moment the way her own mother had taught her to finish a line.

On the last evening she found that one stem had crossed her outline and kept going, slipping over the carved edge and down the side of the kist where no brush had been. She thought it a smudge and reached for the turpentine, but the blue had already dried into a neat, deliberate curl. Lars laughed when she showed him and said the old painters always left one stroke that wanted to leave.

The kist went up to the ridge farm that spring. Years later, a boy who delivered milk told Ingrid that the lid still opened every morning, and that the blue stem still ran past the carved edge into empty air, pointing over the ridge toward whoever would open it next.