Colour neo-traditional tattoo of two pink roses, a star and an eye in a triangle on a woman's upper arm and shoulder.

Roses, star and eye on upper arm

Traditional · Upper arm · Colour · Photo

The tattoo shows two pink roses with green leaves, a dark eight-point star and a banner with faint lettering, with an eye inside a triangle with radiating lines at the lower edge. The linework is bold and outlined, with purple and blue shading behind the motifs. The photo is taken from the side, cropped at the chin, showing the upper arm and shoulder against a soft indoor background.

Traditional Neo-trad Upper arm Shoulder Rose Star Eye Triangle Banner Flower Lettering

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

Mabel Crane rowed out before the mist lifted, as she had every morning since the bridge at Hollin Ford was finished and the ferry was put out of work. She carried no passengers now. She carried a tin box with a folded tide table, a pair of brass dividers and a jar of lamp oil, and she checked the mooring chains the way other women checked their children's collars.

Keep reading

On the third Tuesday of October a man came down the towpath with a canvas roll under his arm and asked her to take him across to the drowned church. He said his name was Pell and that he had come a long way to find the bell. Mabel told him the water stood over the steeple and the bell lay under four fathoms of silt. He said he knew. He only wanted to be rowed to the spot, and he would pay in the thing he had brought.

She watched him unroll it across the thwart. It was a painted banner, the sort carried in the Whitsun procession before the chapel flooded, its lettering gone soft with damp. Above the words sat two pink roses and a dark star with eight points, and beneath them a triangle with an eye at its centre, lines fanning out from it like the rays of a lamp. Mabel had seen that eye once before, on the vestry wall, painted by her grandmother who had kept the light on the old quay.

"That one isn't for sale," she said.

"It isn't for sale," Pell agreed. "It is for counting."

She rowed him out. Over the place where the roof lay under the brown water, he stood up in the boat, let the banner hang over the side and read the names aloud, one after another, until the names ran out. Then he rolled it up and asked to be taken back before the tide turned. When the keel touched the mud, the lamp on the old quay came on, though nobody had lit it in thirty years.