Coordinates of Disappearance
Leopard Fish tattoo for the sailor @jackhro made in @VisionsofEcstasy_ studio in berlin.
Jack came in with a clear image in mind: a leopard fish.
A creature built for disappearance. Stripes, filigree textures, almost tentacle-like extensions — a body that refuses a single outline. A fish that survives by camouflage, by detail, by excess.
The request was to merge this animal with the trident of Neptune.
At first, I tried the obvious solution: placing the trident at the center, asserting itself through the fish. But every sketch failed in the same way — the trident always took over. It became a symbol on top of the animal, instead of part of it. And the fish lost its voice.
So the approach shifted.
Instead of forcing the trident into the composition, I let it dissolve into the fish’s own logic. The points of the trident were absorbed into the animal’s intricate skin, hidden inside its patterns. What remains is almost a secret — visible only if you look closely, emerging on the upper left like a camouflaged weapon. Elegant, rounded, but sharp. A trident that recalls the rhythm and balance of the flag of Barbados — precise, restrained, and still dangerous.
The numbers came later:
00° 00′ 00″ / 0° 00′ 00″.
Latitude and longitude at absolute zero.
The Equator. A line you can cross, but never see — unless you know how to read the sea. When a sailor reaches that point, there is no ambiguity. You are exactly there. No north, no south. Only position.
That detail mattered.
This client is a sailor. Six months at sea at a time, moving between Germany, Taiwan, Singapore — not by air, but by cargo ship. A floating system that works like a factory: discipline, hierarchy, repetition. Romantic from afar, demanding up close.
This wasn’t our first tattoo together. He once traveled from the far north of Germany just to get tattooed — something I still remember clearly. His first piece was a small beach chair flash, discreet, almost hidden in my portfolio. Not because I dislike it, but because the photo never did it justice. His skin reacts fast, turns red immediately, and back then I didn’t yet have the tools to translate that into a strong image.
This time, he came back before heading to sea again — and asked for red.
That matters more than it sounds. I rarely get the chance to push red the way I want to. Black and red together demand trust. He didn’t hesitate.
The session itself was slow and generous.
We talked about life onboard, about routines, boredom, discipline. About what you can’t do at sea as much as what you can. It became clear very quickly: this isn’t freedom in the romantic sense. It’s precision, responsibility, and endurance.
A fish that hides a trident.
Coordinates that mark an invisible line.
A body carrying months of ocean.
Everything stayed where it belonged.
nOT
