Realism-style portrait tattoo of a man with swept hair, red bow tie and tweed jacket, holding a cylindrical tool, on the upper arm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realism portrait of a man in a bow tie on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Mixed · Photo

A detailed portrait of a man with swept back hair, a red bow tie and a tweed-look jacket, with a cylindrical object held near his chest. The face and hair are rendered in soft greyscale shading with blended skin tones, while the bow tie and jacket carry warm reds and browns. The portrait fills the frame against a pale blue and green background on the upper arm, with denim jeans visible at the left edge.

Realism Upper arm Portrait Man Bow tie Jacket Hair Face

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

Eli Harrowgate had mended the pithead clock for eleven winters, and every morning the men gathered at the gate to watch him climb the iron ladder with his tool case strapped to his back. His red bow tie was the only bright thing on the headgear before six, and his father called it vanity. Eli said it was for the men below, who needed something to look at when the lamps went dim.

Keep reading

The clock had stopped at twenty past four on the day of the roof fall, and nobody in Coldhollow had wanted it started since. Eli told the colliery manager it was only a worn escapement. The truth was he had never found the nerve to open the case. This morning the boy Tom Ashby followed him up the ladder, carrying a wrench that fitted nothing in the village.

They worked without speaking until the brass cylinder in Eli's hand began to hum, a thin note that made the rivets shiver. He had built it from a lamp housing and a magnet salvaged off a dead dynamo, and it had never once failed him. He held it to the mechanism, and the hands gave a small shudder before they began to move, one minute at a time, towards the hour the men had walked out.

Below them the cage bell rang for the morning shift. Tom looked down at the yard, where the men were lining up with their helmets, and said the clock was running fast. Eli checked his pocket watch and tucked it back into his waistcoat. "Not fast," he said. "Just catching up."