Watercolour-style tattoo on the top of a foot, with black sketch linework of an abstract shape filled with rainbow colour.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Abstract watercolour sketch on the foot

Other · Colour · Photo

A loose black outline of an abstract shape, possibly a hat, sits across the top of a foot. Sketchy linework overlaps blocks of blue, green, yellow, orange and red that bleed past the edges like watercolour. The colour is concentrated in the centre of the design, and the composition runs diagonally across the foot.

Other Hat Abstract shape Rainbow Watercolour

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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 rain has been coming sideways since six, and the awning over Halloran's paint stall has given up. You stand under a fold of wet tarpaulin holding a tin of cadmium yellow that Mrs Oduya ordered three weeks ago and never collected. Behind you the hat seller is packing his felts into a crate that smells of mothballs, one at a time, the way other men count coins.

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The gust comes off the canal and takes his grey trilby straight off the trestle. It rolls across the cobbles like a wheel, skids into a puddle and lies there, crown down, slowly filling with rain. You go after it. The puddle holds the sky in broken pieces, and when you lift the hat it is leaking blue from the lining, dye from some lost dye lot running down your wrist and into your sleeve.

He doesn't want it back. He says the hat belonged to a man who once sold him a true forecast, and that the stain is the only honest thing left of the deal. You offer him a pound. He shakes his head and tips the water out onto the stones, and the colours go with it: green, then orange, then a red you didn't know was still in you, spreading across the market like something that has finally decided where it belongs.

By the time the shutters come down, the cobbles are a wash of colour that nobody sweeps. You take the hat home anyway, wrapped inside your coat, and set it on the windowsill where the lamplight can reach it. Each morning the stain has crept a little further, following the rain-lines across the glass, until one day it reaches the edge of the frame and stops, as though it has found the exact shape of the world it wanted.