Black and grey realism tattoo of a woman's face with sugar skull style markings and tears, with a shaded rose below, on an upper arm.

Portrait of a woman with sugar skull makeup and rose

Realism · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A close-up of a realistic portrait of a woman with dark hair, a decorative headpiece, dotted markings and tear-like lines on her face, in a sugar skull style. The shading is smooth and detailed, with soft greys and highlights on the skin, and a shaded rose fills the lower part of the frame. The tattoo is shown on a limb with the face taking up most of the composition.

Realism Upper arm Woman Portrait Face Sugar skull Rose Tear Dot Headpiece

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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

Mama, the paint came up from Oaxaca in the crate with the lids sealed in wax, just as you said it would. I have been at the moulds since the bell for vespers, and Señora Ortiz keeps bringing me coffee she forgets to drink, because the order from the house on the hill arrived yesterday and she wants to see what I make of it.

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It is a skull for Doña Inés's granddaughter, Lucía, who was seventeen in March. The señora did not want the usual grinning teeth. She asked for a face that looks like it is listening, with dots along the cheekbones like the ones you put on my wedding skull, and tear lines in silver leaf running from the eyes to the jaw. A tin crown with three glass beads across the forehead. A red rose at the chin, shaded so deep it looks wet. I told her roses take the longest to dry, and she said good, let them take their time.

I worked through the night with the lamp hung from the beam so the moths could take turns at it. At three the silver leaf would not lie flat, and I nearly threw the whole thing out, but then I remembered your hand over mine when I was small, pressing the tissue down so the glue would hold. I pressed the leaf the same way, one corner at a time. By dawn the face had lost its fright. It looked like a girl who had been told a secret and decided to keep it.

Doña Inés came down the hill at seven with her shawl over her head. She did not speak. She knelt by the bench and looked for a long time, then touched one finger to the rose. The paint was not yet dry and it left the faintest print on the petal. She looked at the mark, then at me, and said, "Now there is something of hers she cannot finish without us." I wrapped the skull in newspaper and am writing this while the glue sets. Come home soon. Tell Papa the moths got into the sugar.