Solid black silhouette of a prancing horse with a flowing mane on the inside of a forearm, set against a blurred green background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black horse silhouette on a forearm

Blackwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A solid black silhouette of a horse rearing with its tail raised and mane flowing, with a thin outline on the lower legs and hooves. The fill is dense and even, with a clean, smooth edge and no visible shading. The pale skin and soft green foliage in the blurred background keep the focus on the tattoo, which sits centrally on the forearm.

Blackwork Forearm Horse Silhouette Mane Animal

Find an artist for this

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

Dear Tomas,

Keep reading

The pass closed on Tuesday, so the carrier left the mules at Hollin Bridge and went down the valley on foot, and I have been left with Brisa and the stone barn. You will laugh at me writing letters to a man who never reads them, but the old shepherd who keeps the hut says the post goes over the col once a month if the weather allows, and I need to tell someone that the black mare has learned to rear at the gate.

She did it this morning when the wind came round. Her tail went up like a flag somebody had forgotten to lower, and her mane tore sideways against the sky, and for a moment she was nothing but a shape cut from the rock, dark right through, with only the lower legs showing where the snow had left a bare line. I stood with the bucket and forgot the water. Papa used to say a horse in silhouette is a horse telling you it has decided something.

The shepherd, Anselm, says she is a bad choice for the high road because she thinks she is taller than the mountains. I told him she has more sense than either of us. She stopped at the lip of the drift on the eastern side, where the ice hides the path, and would not take another step until I found the stone cairn under the white. We went around. Anselm nodded like a man who had lost a bet with himself.

So I am staying till the thaw. Come up in May if you can. Bring the good saddle, and tell Mama I have not eaten a single cabbage since Michaelmas.

Your sister, Ilse