Black and grey realism tattoo covering a whole back, showing a winged figure standing in water beneath mountains, sun rays, birds and trees.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Full back landscape with winged figure

Realism · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A large black and grey realism tattoo covers the entire back, with a winged figure at the centre standing in rippling water. Above, sunlight breaks through clouds over dark mountains, with birds in the sky and bare trees framing both sides. The shading is smooth and tonal, moving from bright highlights in the light and clouds to deep blacks in the foreground and lower water.

Realism Back Landscape Mountain Sun rays Cloud Bird Tree Winged figure Water

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

Sit yourselves down, the lot of you, and mind the damp patch by the radiator, it's been there since the Coronation. Now. The winter Harold Penrose walked up Carn Derwen with a lantern and no sense, the sky over the mountains went the colour of a dirty pan, and then the sun broke through all at once, like someone had pulled a sheet off a window.

Keep reading

What Harold found at the lake under the peak was a woman standing in the water up to her knees. Not swimming, mind. Standing, with her arms folded in against her ribs and her wings, grey as wet slate, folded down behind her like a cloak that had given up. The ripples went out from her ankles in rings, one after another, and every ring lifted a bird off the bare trees on the shore, and the birds went up into the light and didn't come back for a week.

Harold asked her what she was waiting for. She said the tide to turn, so she could carry the lost back up to the high meadow. He said that was no job for a woman, and she laughed so the water shivered and told him he could help or go home to his mother's gravy. He stayed. Three nights they hauled cold men out of the reeds, and on each one she sang something low that I've never heard the like of since.

On the fourth morning the sun came straight down the valley and she was gone, and there was only one feather turning slowly on the flat water. Harold kept it in his hatband until the day he died. Pass the sugar, would you, Mrs Dawlish. And nobody in this house is to go up Carn Derwen with a lantern.