Black ink linework drawing of a sun with a closed-eyed face and a crescent moon, with dotwork rays and stars, drawn on paper as a tattoo design.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Sun and crescent moon face design

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

A hand-drawn tattoo design on paper shows a sun with a serene face, closed eyes and freckle dots, framed by layered petal shapes and a beaded circle. A crescent moon with star bursts and small dots sits behind it, with dotted rays radiating outward. The fine black linework and stippled dots are evenly weighted, and the symmetrical composition is centred on the page with a pen lying across the top edge.

Dotwork Geometric Sun Moon Face Petal Star Dot Ray Mandala

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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

Sit down by the bean rows, love, and mind the slugs. You want the proper version, not the one the vicar tells. The sun and the moon were never meant to share a sky. Back when the world was young, the sun kept a garden of her own up past the hedge, with sunflowers taller than church towers and petals stacked like shingles on a barn roof. She spent her days pruning them with gold shears and never once looked down.

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The moon lived on the other side of the wall, in a plot of plain grey stones with one honeysuckle that nobody watered. Every night she climbed the wall to admire the sun's flowers, and every morning she slipped back down before the light came up, so the sun never knew she'd been there. All that climbing wore her face thin, which is why the old ones say she goes crescent.

One evening the sun left her gate open by mistake, and the moon found a seed packet fallen in the grass. The packet had pale dots printed round its edge, like freckles, and she pressed one of the seeds into the stony soil. By the next dusk it had grown into a bloom that made the sun stop her shears and turn around.

So they met at the wall, and they argued about dew and dark, and they still do, every dawn and dusk, when you see the pair of them squinting at each other over the hedge. Mind you, that's their business and not ours. Now pass me the trowel.