Black and grey neo-traditional compass rose inside an ornate scrolled cartouche, tattooed across the upper back of a woman seen from behind.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ornate compass rose tattoo across upper back

Neo-trad · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A large compass rose sits at the centre of the design, framed by a dotted ring and a heavy black border. Baroque-style scrollwork and acanthus leaves spread out on either side, with a small gem below and a plain circle above. The linework is bold and the scrollwork is shaded with soft grey, while the compass face is lightly tonal. The tattoo fills the upper back and is centred in the frame, with the subject's head and hair cropped at the top.

Neo-trad Dotwork Back Compass Compass rose Scrollwork Gemstone Ornament Acanthus

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 has been coming sideways across Hollin Row market since before the stalls opened, and by eleven the tarpaulins sag like wet sails. You keep your father's brass compass in the cloth tray under the counter, the one with the scrolled lid, because the customers who stop for the maps always want to hold something heavier than paper.

Keep reading

Mr Okonedo from the chandler's across the lane lifts it, turns it twice, and tells you the needle must be faulty. It isn't. It points north the way it always has, but the rose under the glass has its letters set a shade off, so the E sits where the N ought to be. Your father did that on purpose, he used to say, so that whoever bought it would have to stop and think before trusting it.

You sell it to a woman in a yellow mac for four pounds more than it's worth, and she never checks the letters. The awning drums above you. You fold the charts, count the coins into the tin, and notice the leaves on the lid have worn grey where your thumb has rubbed them every morning for a year.

At six you pull the shutters down and find the spare compass still in the tray, correct this time, every letter where it belongs. You don't put it out. You hold it under the bare bulb and let the needle settle, and it swings round, unhurried, to the place it has always wanted to point, which turns out to be wherever you happen to be standing.