Geometric abstract tattoo of triangles, circles and a spiral on a woman's upper back, in black, grey and soft green and pink wash.

Geometric abstract tattoo on upper back

Geometric · Back · Mixed · Photo

A woman is photographed from behind, showing a large abstract tattoo across her upper back and shoulder blade. The design combines scattered triangles, overlapping circles, a spiral and thin straight lines with bold vertical bars of black ink. Soft grey, green and pink washes sit behind the linework, and the composition is weighted towards the left side of the back.

Geometric Back Triangle Circle Spiral Line Abstract Geometric shape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ring was thirteen metres across. Dad had paced it out every spring since before I could walk, so when the council man arrived with his laser measure and said eleven, we both knew he was wrong, and neither of us bothered to argue. By then the big top was a patched tent on a damp field outside Wakefield, and the posters had faded to the colour of weak tea.

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The triangles were the worst of it. Mum had sewn two hundred mirror shards into the valance the year she joined, and every winter a few more dropped from the seams, skittering across the sawdust like bits of a broken moon. We swept them up each night and kept them in a biscuit tin. Mum called it our constellation. The circles were the paraffin heaters, six of them, rusted and round, and the spiral was the rope Uncle Ray coiled on the ground each evening, tighter every season, until the day he couldn't lift the end.

The insurers wanted the canvas gone before the frost. Dad sat in the caravan with a flask and his ledger, adding and subtracting, and I could tell from his silence which way the sums would fall. On the last morning he walked out alone to the centre pole, black from a thousand lamp nights, and laid his palm flat against it the way you would against a horse's flank.

We struck the tent by noon. The pole stayed, because nobody could be paid to lift it, and when I looked back from the lorry the ring was only a brown circle in the grass with the old pole standing in its middle like a full stop. That night I tipped the biscuit tin onto the dashboard and counted the shards. Eleven hundred and four. The ring, I still say, was thirteen metres.