Colour tattoo of a sunset landscape with a crescent moon, palm tree and pine trees inside a black hexagon, placed in the centre of the upper back.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hexagon landscape with sunset on upper back

Geometric · Back · Colour · Photo

A hexagonal frame holds a landscape of a large orange and pink sun, a crescent moon, mountain silhouettes, a palm tree and a row of pine trees above blue water. The mountains and foliage are built from fine dots and stipple, while the sky and water use soft colour gradients. The black hexagon outline sits centred on the upper back against smooth skin.

Geometric Dotwork Back Hexagon Landscape Sun Moon Mountain Palm tree Pine tree Lake Sunset

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 kiln at Hollin Lane ran hot all week, and by Thursday Nell had stopped noticing the smell of scorched clay. Her job was the sky. Mr Abney painted the hills and the water and the pines he could do in his sleep, but the sun was hers, and she had been told twice now that her orange ran into the pink like a bruise.

Keep reading

The order was for a hotel on the Fylde coast, twelve hexagonal tiles for a dining room with no view. The owner wanted a view. So each tile held a small made-up world: a lake, a fringe of firs, a palm that had no business growing within a hundred miles of the sea wall. Abney had never been further south than Llandudno. He had built the palm from a postcard his brother sent from Madeira in 1931, and he would not let anyone touch it.

On the last tile Nell did the moon herself. She left the crescent thin, a fingernail hooked over the mountain, and when Abney came to check the glaze he stood a long time without speaking. 'That's not the moon from the postcard,' he said. 'No,' she said. 'It's the one you described on the Rhyl pier the night before you enlisted, the one you said you could still see from the trench.' He wiped his hands on his apron and didn't argue.

They fired the twelve tiles on the Friday. When the porter carried the frame into the dining room and the afternoon light came through the glazed hexagons, the blue water lay across the white cloth like something poured, and nobody asked where the lake was. Nell kept one offcut in her coat pocket for years after, warm from the kiln, the moon still hooked over the hill.