Mountain landscape tattoo with an orange sun, teal sky and black-and-grey scrollwork on a limb, in a neo-traditional style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mountain landscape with sun and scrollwork on a limb

Neo-trad · Other · Mixed · Photo

A large tattoo of a mountain range with a rising orange sun on the left, set against a teal and blue sky with soft clouds. The peaks and forest at the base are shaded in black and grey, while ornamental black scrollwork curls along the right-hand side. Colour is limited to the sun and sky, with the landscape and linework rendered in greys.

Neo-trad Other Mountain Sun Cloud Sky Landscape Tree Scrollwork Forest

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

Gwen had been at the reunion for twenty minutes before anyone asked what she did now, and she still hadn't found a way to answer that didn't sound like a leaflet. Across the sports hall someone had pinned up the old Year Eleven geography display, the one where Mr Osei had taped photographs of the Cairngorms and the Lakes to hessian, and where a fourteen-year-old Gwen had stuck a drawing of a peak with the sun rising behind it in orange felt-tip.

Keep reading

Dev Marsh found her by the squash table. He had copied her homework for two years and still held a paper cup like it might be taken off him. He tapped the drawing on the wall. "You never went up that, did you? We were going to see sunrise from the top. Mr Osei said it'd be the best thing we ever saw." The minibus had broken down on the M6 that spring, and the trip had quietly died in a staffroom somewhere.

Gwen told him the truth, which surprised her. She had never climbed anything taller than a stile. She was a land surveyor now, mostly measuring other people's car parks and the edges of fields that were about to become houses. The mountains she knew were lines on a plan, contour rings packed so tight they looked like fingerprints.

Dev pulled a biro from his jacket and sketched on the back of a beer mat: a ridge, a bite out of the top, a low sun. Gwen took the pen and added wind curling off the summit in a long black scroll, the way the ice looked on the old maps. "March," he said. "Before the car parks get you." She wrote the date on the mat and kept it.