Realistic colour portrait tattoo of a woman with blonde hair in a bun and tinted sunglasses, placed on a person's upper arm near the shoulder.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Realistic portrait of a woman in sunglasses on upper arm

Realism · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

A photorealistic portrait of a woman wearing reflective tinted sunglasses, with her blonde hair swept up in a bun and a hand visible at the side of her head. The shading is smooth and detailed, with soft gradients across the skin, hair and lenses. Warm skin tones sit against pale blue and grey background tones, and the tattoo wraps over the curve of the upper arm.

Realism Upper arm Woman Portrait Sunglasses Blonde hair Hand

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The woman came into the studio on Quay Street the Tuesday the ferry stopped running, her blonde hair pinned up in a fat knot and a pair of tinted sunglasses she did not take off once. She wanted a portrait for her husband's birthday, she said, and she wanted it taken on the harbour wall where the light was flat and silver.

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I took her out at four. The sun sat behind the breakwater and the water was the colour of pewter. She lifted one hand to tuck a loose strand behind her ear, the way people do when they have forgotten a camera is watching, and I took eleven frames. In the dark lenses I could see the whole harbour turned upside down: the fish market roof, the lifeboat house, a gull mid-stoop, and behind me, small as a thumbprint, a man in a blue jersey standing at the top of the slip.

She asked to see the proofs. I showed her the best one, and she studied her own face on the screen for a long time. 'You've made the glass too bright,' she said. 'Take it down.' I told her I couldn't, because the glass was only giving back what was there. She looked at the figure in the lenses, then at me, and something went out of her shoulders.

The next morning the blue jersey was gone from the slip and the Morwenna had left on the early tide with nobody aboard but a woman in a headscarf. I printed the eleventh frame anyway and hung it in the window. Her husband came in a week later, bought the portrait for cash, and never once looked closely at the lenses. I still think about the man at the top of the slip, small and patient, held in the glass like a fly in amber.