Close crop of a woman's torso with an ornate navy and gold ornamental design on the side of the abdomen, partly covered by a hand with rings, and a gold body chain.

Ornate navy and gold design on the side torso

Other · Mixed · Photo

A close crop of a woman's torso in a light crochet bikini, with a gold body chain and pendant draped across the midriff. An ornate design of scrolling leaves, stars and curls in navy and gold sits on the skin at the side of the abdomen, partly covered by a hand wearing several rings. The design appears to be a temporary or decorative piece rather than a clearly defined linework tattoo, and the image is bright with soft focus at the edges.

Other Ornament Leaves Star Curl Ring Pendant Bikini

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The screen had come to me from the big house at Hollin Edge with a note pinned to its frame that said only 'do not let the gold go dull'. Mrs Pargeter had no idea what that meant, and neither did I until I peeled back the varnish on the third panel and found navy beneath, deep as the pool below the weir, with scrolls of gold leaf unfurling out of it like ferns in March.

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Every panel carried the same ornament: a leaf that curled back on itself, a star with five points pressed flat by a pad of lamb's wool, a spiral that looked as if it had been drawn with a wrist that trembled. My old master, Tobias Ashdown, used to say that a gilder's line is a promise to the wood that it will never be asked to hold anything heavier than light. I thought that was nonsense until I tried to lay a single star without breathing on it.

On the Tuesday the wind came off the forest and rattled the shed door. I sized the star with rabbit skin glue, waited for the tack to turn clear, and lifted the leaf from its book with a sable brush the way you would lift a moth from a sill. It settled. The gold took the lamplight and held it, and for one moment the whole panel looked like a night sky someone had carried indoors in both hands.

When I finally looked up, the sun had gone behind the firs and I could no longer tell which stars I had laid and which were only reflections in the window. I signed the back of the screen with my initials and the date, the way Tobias taught me, then walked out to the lane where the village lamps were coming on one by one, with gold dust in the creases of my knuckles, brighter than anything I had ever been paid for.