Back view of a man with a large black tribal tattoo of swirls and spikes across his upper back, shoulder and upper arm.

Tribal swirl tattoo across a man's back and shoulder

Blackwork · Back · Black and grey · Photo

A shirtless man is photographed from behind, showing a large tribal design in solid black ink that covers his upper back, shoulder blade and upper arm. The design uses bold curling swirls, tapering spikes and thick flowing bands, with the shapes sitting against the natural shading of the skin. The image is in black ink only, with a grey backdrop and a light grey waistband in the lower frame.

Blackwork Back Shoulder Upper arm Tribal Swirl Spike Abstract pattern Back piece

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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

Mrs Pryce had asked for the railings by Michaelmas, and Tom Haskett had three weeks of rain behind him and a forge that smoked whenever the wind came off the bay. He heated each bar until it went the colour of a fox, then bent it round the horn of the anvil, curling the end back on itself until the spike folded into a spiral. Gulls landed on the gutters to watch. Nobody else was in the yard that morning except the boarders' cat, which slept on the coal sacks and opened one eye whenever he swore.

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The boarding house stood at the top of the slipway, four storeys of salt-bitten brick with a veranda that had sagged since the old king died. Mrs Pryce wanted the scrolls to climb the veranda posts like briars, with barbs at the joints so no child could slip through. Tom drew them first in chalk on the yard flags, then rubbed them out with his boot when the rain came back. He kept one rule he never told anyone: every spike had to turn back toward the sea, so the iron seemed to be drawing the water in.

On the last evening the sun came low across the harbour and threw the shadow of the railings over the front step, a black lace that broke and re-formed as the tide slid under the pier. Mrs Pryce came out in her apron, looked for a long while, and said the bars looked like something hauled up from deep water and left to dry. Tom said that was about right. She paid him in silver and a slice of seed cake, and he walked home along the front with the iron still warm in his palms, counting the spirals he had yet to make for the house on the hill.