Two side-by-side photos of a realistic colour chrysanthemum tattoo with green leaves covering a woman's upper arm and shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic chrysanthemum on an upper arm and shoulder

Realism · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A large chrysanthemum bloom with deep burgundy petals, cream-tipped centres and layered green leaves covers the upper arm and shoulder, shown from two angles. The petals and leaves are rendered with fine shading and soft gradients, giving a lifelike, almost painterly finish. Soft blue and green washes behind the flower add colour and depth to the composition.

Realism Botanical Upper arm Shoulder Chrysanthemum Flower Leaves Petal

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The frost had got into the cold frames again, so Brother Cuthbert spent the hour before Lauds breaking ice off the glass with the side of his hand. Beyond the wall the Teme ran high and brown. Inside the garden, forty pots of chrysanthemums were holding on, and the bronze ones, he liked to say, were the only things in the diocese that had not yet been told it was November.

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He had grown them from a paper packet sent by a cousin who worked the docks at Liverpool and had a friend in Yokohama. The seeds came in a tin with a faded crane on the lid. Cuthbert had sown them in spring against the advice of the infirmarian, and now the blooms were the size of a child's fist, layered like the shingles on the chapter house roof, deep wine at the tips and cream where the petals curled inward toward the boss of the flower.

On the feast of Saint Martin the abbot meant to take one to the guest house, where a widow from Ledbury was to be received. She had written asking for something to lay on her husband's grave. Cuthbert cut the finest bloom at first light, wrapped its stem in wet linen and carried it through the cloister with both hands, the way one carries a lamp that must not gutter.

At the gate the porter asked what he had brought. Cuthbert said nothing. He set the flower in the widow's hands, and she bent her face to it, and he understood then that the thing had never been meant for the abbot at all.