Colour traditional tattoo sleeve on an upper arm and forearm showing a red and white striped lighthouse, orange roses, an anchor and rope.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Lighthouse, rose and anchor sleeve

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A full arm sleeve of traditional-style tattoos runs from the upper arm down towards the wrist. A red and white striped lighthouse with a green-topped lantern sits above large orange roses, an anchor wrapped in rope and a teal rose near the bottom edge. The bold black outlines, flat fills and purple and orange clouds give the piece a bright, saturated look against a red wooden background.

Traditional Upper arm Forearm Lighthouse Rose Anchor Rope Cloud Leaves Sky Sleeve

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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 rain had come in sideways off the harbour by eight, and by ten the cloth awnings along Fish Street were sagging like wet sails. Nobody comes out in weather like that except men who need a rope or a bolt of oilcloth regardless. Uncle Ned had given me his pitch on Tuesdays since his knees went, and I had three crates of brass fittings, a tin of boot polish and a kettle that hissed when I lit the spirit ring under it.

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Just before eleven a man came up from the slipway with his collar turned up, a coil of manila over one shoulder. He didn't want rope. He wanted the chart of Gannet Rock, the old one with the light drawn in red ink, the one Ned had sold him thirty years back before the fire took his boat shed. I said I didn't have it. He nodded as if I'd confirmed something, bought a tin of polish instead, and paid in coppers he counted twice.

After he'd gone I found the chart folded inside a biscuit tin under the counter, foxed at the corners, the lantern room ringed in that same red ink. Ned had kept a spare all those years and never said a word. The rain kept drumming on the awning while I stared at it, and I thought of the man walking back up the hill with his wet rope and nothing in his hands but a tin of polish.

I went after him in my apron, through the puddles past the chip shop, and caught him at the corner where the pier lamp was already lit. I held out the chart. He unfolded it against his coat and looked at the red ring for a long time. Then he said, Ned always did keep a light on for people, and walked off into the weather with the paper held flat against his chest.