Three-panel photo of an ornamental tattoo covering a person's shoulder and upper arm, with purple spirals and feather-like forms and a green and yellow mandala on the shoulder cap.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ornamental shoulder and upper arm sleeve

Geometric · Shoulder · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo covers the shoulder and upper arm with dense purple linework and stippled shading, forming spirals, feather-like curves and floral fills. On the shoulder cap, a radiating green and yellow mandala contrasts with the purple areas. The three panels show the back, side and front of the arm against a plain light background.

Geometric Botanical Shoulder Upper arm Spiral Mandala Feather Floral Ornament Sunburst Wing

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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 sun came through the rose window at half past four, the only hour I could see the lead properly. Mrs Adair had hired me to make the chapel at Harrowgate Keep safe, and I had found the broken panels in a heap of nettles under the sill. Nobody had touched the glass since the roof went in 1891, so the colours had kept their nerve: violet at the rim, then a green like river weed, and at the very centre a yellow that looked lit from inside.

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On the third afternoon a pair of swifts got in through the gap where the tracery had collapsed, and they wheeled round the nave until the light caught their wings. I stopped soldering to watch. The old mason had carved a stone bird above the arch, its wings spread flat in a pattern of spirals and feathers, and the swifts flew straight through the shadow it cast. My grandfather used to say a building remembers the hands that finished it. I had never believed him until I saw how the carver had grooved each feather, deep enough to hold a bead of lead.

I rebuilt the centre first, cutting the yellow sunburst into forty-one pieces and setting them in a ring of green so that when the light fell through, it spilled outwards exactly as it had in the photograph Mrs Adair kept in a biscuit tin. The purple I left to the end. It was the colour of the bloom on the plums in the orchard below, and it took me a week to find a glass that didn't look dead.

On the last evening I lifted the final panel into its frame and the nave filled with coloured light, sunburst at the centre, violet feathers running down the walls as if the stone bird had come loose and flown into the glass. The swifts had gone. Mrs Adair stood in the doorway with her coat on and said nothing for a long time, then asked whether I could do the same for the east window. I said I would need a longer winter.