Black ink dotwork drawing of a sun with stippled rays, leaf-shaped petals and a crescent moon, shown as a design on grey paper with no body placement.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun and crescent moon design

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

A symmetrical drawing of a sun with a stippled, dotwork outer ring of rays and a crescent moon set over a dotted central disc. The petals between the rays are filled with fine hatching, and a ring of small dots borders the moon. The image is in black ink on a pale grey background.

Dotwork Geometric Sun Moon Crescent moon Celestial Mandala Ray Petal

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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

The eclipse was due at twenty past eleven, and Agnes Dunmore had only her father's old Indian ink, a borrowed pair of dividers and a sheet of card cut from a seed packet box. Half of Mossgiel Road had already walked up onto the bridge with smoked glass held to their eyes, and the vicar's wife was handing out cardboard spectacles outside the Co-op. Agnes sat on the hall step pricking dots around a ring with the blunt end of a hatpin, because her father had told her a sun could be drawn by anyone patient enough to count.

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Harold Dunmore had painted the lettering on the Corn Exchange for thirty years and never once been in a hurry. He had taught her that a sun was only a crowd of small marks agreeing to look bright. So she worked the rays in stipple, one dot at a time, letting the outer ones thin to grey like breath on a window. Between the rays she hatched the petals in fine diagonal lines, and she left the moon blank, a white crescent with its own ring of dots to keep it from sliding off the page.

At twenty past eleven the rooks stopped arguing in the elms. The light went the colour of pewter and the bridge fell quiet. Agnes looked up through the card and watched the moon slide across the sun's face, a neat bite taken out of the gold. Her father came up the road with his hands in his pockets and stood beside her without speaking, and when the crowd began to cheer she did not look at them. She was filling in the last petal, the dark one at the bottom, because a picture of the sky needed its shadows too. Then the light came back, the moon slid away, and she signed the corner in small dots, the way he signed his own work.