Woman with long blonde hair showing a metallic gold and turquoise feather temporary tattoo on her back, with small gold and black designs on her upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Gold and turquoise feather tattoo on the back

Back · Colour · Photo

A woman with long blonde hair is shown from behind and the side, wearing a turquoise crochet top. A large metallic gold and turquoise feather design sits on her back, with fine gold detailing and a turquoise fill, and small gold and black motifs appear on her upper arm, including an infinity symbol near her hand. The image has warm natural tones and a soft, blurred green background.

Back Upper arm Feather Infinity symbol Sun Ornament Hair

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

The gull landed on the gallery rail the morning after the gale, a long grey bird with one wing hanging loose. It had a feather caught in its beak, and when the sun came over the water the quill flashed gold while the vane went the blue of the shallows off Carrick Point. I had kept the lamp turning through that storm with my own hands on the crank, so I felt I had a right to the thing. I took it off him with a cloth, and he let me, which told me how bad the wing was.

Keep reading

Mrs Abernethy from the mainland boat had once told me that feathers were letters from birds who had gone somewhere we could not follow. I thought it was nonsense then. Ned Corrie, who brought the supplies on Tuesdays, had a sister in Ullapool who painted fishing boats, and she had shown me how to lay gold leaf onto a gunwale with one steady breath. I wrote to her that evening asking if she would come out and gild the lamp housing before the inspectors arrived in March.

She came on the Tuesday boat with a tin of leaf, a brush worn down to a stub, and a bottle of turquoise paint for the trim of the glass. We spent three days on the lantern room floor. I pinned the feather to the notice board beside the tide tables, quill up, so every man who came to log the weather would see it first. On the fourth day she asked why I kept looking at the gull instead of the sea.

I told her the gull had nowhere to fly until the wing mended, and that a light is only any use to someone out in the dark who wants to come home. She did not answer. She pressed one last flake of gold onto the rail where the bird had sat, and the next morning there was no bird, only the mark, bright as a coin, on the iron.