Colour tattoo of a red rose with stem and green leaves, set among blue and pink geometric shards on the upper back, in a watercolour style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red rose with geometric shards on upper back

Botanical · Back · Colour · Photo

A red rose with green leaves and a stem is shown on the upper back, surrounded by angular blue and pink shards and loose pink watercolour splashes. The rose is rendered with soft shading and detail, while the surrounding shapes are more abstract and fragmented. The composition is centred on the back with the rose as the focal point, and colour ink dominates throughout.

Botanical Geometric Back Rose Stem Leaves Watercolour splash Geometric shape Abstract

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

Now sit closer, because the fire is low and this is a story about glass, and glass does not like to be told twice. You will have walked past the old chapel at the edge of Harrowfield, where the wood starts and the path gives up. Its east window was broken the winter the frost came early, and Tomas Ebbe, the only glazier between here and the river, was sent for.

Keep reading

He found the window in a hundred pieces across the altar cloth. The rose at its centre had been red glass, thick as a thumb, and it had cracked clean through its heart. Tomas could have swept the lot into a sack. Instead he sat three nights with a lamp and laid the shards out by colour, blue, pink, the grey of the sky before rain, and every night a wood pigeon sat on the sill and watched him work.

On the fourth morning the vicar came in, saw the floor laid out like a map, and asked what it would look like when he was done. Tomas said he did not know, only that the pieces wanted to be a rose, and that the rest of the glass wanted to be something that let the rose stand up straight. The vicar laughed at him. Then he went quiet and asked for a stool.

The window never went back to how it was. What hung in the chapel that spring was a red rose sitting in a storm of blue and pink, each shard leaning its edge toward the stem, as if the whole broken sky had turned to look at it. People came from three villages to stand in front of it. Tomas never said what he had been mending, and the pigeon, they say, never came back to the sill.