Black and grey mountain range tattoo with hatched peaks, pine trees and a dotted diamond border, placed on the upper back near the shoulder blade.

Mountain range tattoo on upper back

Dotwork · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A black and grey tattoo of a mountain range with jagged peaks, shaded with fine hatching and a few small pine trees at the base. Below the mountains, a border of dotted diamond shapes runs along the bottom edge, adding a geometric outline. The photograph is taken from behind, showing the upper back and shoulder blade against a dark background.

Dotwork Geometric Back Mountain Peak Tree Pine tree Diamond Landscape

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 rain had come in off the moor before seven, and by half past nine the cobbles of Tanner's Yard were a grey mirror nobody wanted to stand on. I kept my stall under the tarp with the maps, the ones folded soft as cloth, and Mr Okonjo from the cheese stall shouted across that I'd sell nothing in weather like this. He was wrong. A young man in a wet anorak stopped dripping over my trestle table, holding a single sheet with its corners gone to pulp, and asked what the little dots were for.

Keep reading

They were the contours of nothing, I told him. My father had pricked them into the back of the shop with a wheel he'd bought off a surveyor who never got paid for the job. Each row of dots was a step you could take without falling. Each diamond was a day's walk if the weather held. The young man ran his thumb along the border and said his grandmother kept a copy of the same peaks framed above her kettle, pines at the foot and all, and that she had never once been higher than the library stairs. I laughed, then stopped, because I knew the sheet. My father had copied it from a hill that wasn't on any map.

He paid two pounds and promised to bring it back laminated. I watched him cross the yard with the paper inside his coat, and I dropped the coins into my apron. Then the rain eased for a minute and the water running off the tarp struck the puddle in front of my stall in a neat line of drops, one after another, spaced like the dots on the paper. I stood there longer than I needed to, counting them, working out how many steps it would take to reach the far side of the square.