Close view of a woman's shoulder and upper arm with gold and white metallic geometric temporary tattoos, including triangles, a feather and a patterned band.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Metallic geometric arm bands and feathers

Geometric · Shoulder · Mixed · Photo

The image shows a woman's bare shoulder and upper arm, with her face and head cropped out of frame. Metallic gold and white designs include stacked triangles, a small anchor-like motif, a black feather and a white feather on the shoulder, and a fine arrow line and two patterned bands on the upper arm. The lines are crisp and flat with no shading, and the background is softly blurred outdoors.

Geometric Shoulder Upper arm Triangle Feather Arrow Geometric pattern Anchor Metallic Band

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

Shift up, the lot of you, for the fire will be out before I'm done and I'll not tell it twice. My grandfather hauled coal up the Trent on the Mary Ellen, and his wife Nell kept a tin of silver paint in the cabin for touching up the brass. A grey heron feather was tucked behind the tin, and Nell drew with a sliver of cane and a steady wrist. The first thing she ever painted on that boat was an anchor the size of a man's hand, bright on the bow where the river couldn't argue with it.

Keep reading

Then came the summer the water rose brown over the meadows, and the Mary Ellen tore her mooring at Gunthorpe lock and went loose in the flood. Grandfather was ashore arguing with the lock keeper about a bill. Nell stood in the cabin with the tiller in both hands and nothing to steer by but the stacked triangles she'd painted on the gate posts, the only straight things in that grey valley. She lined the bow up on the second triangle, then the third, and let the current carry her round in a long slow arc.

A boy called Tobias Crane, who fished off the weir, ran out along the towpath with his bow and fired a line across the gap. It fell short, then caught on the cratch. Nell made it fast, and the anchor on the bow bit into the mud of the bank as if it had been waiting all along.

The flood took the paint off that bow the same night, and the silver went downriver in flakes. Every spring since, the bend below Gunthorpe flashes like a coin when the sun is low, and the old lock keeper swears it's the anchor, still looking for the boat.