Black line drawing of an abstract swirl design with two pointed curves above a spiral, shown on a plain white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Black line abstract swirl design

Black and grey · Flash

A single bold black line forms an abstract design with two pointed, leaf-like curves at the top that taper into a long central stem. The stem coils into a spiral near the base, and the solid black linework is uniform in weight. The design is set against a plain white background with no shading or colour.

Abstract Swirl Spiral Curve Line

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

The hare came down to the spring the morning my father sold the last of the goats, and it sat on the flat stone where we beat the flax, watching me as though I owed it money. Its ears lay back like two leaves pressed flat in a book. I had seen hares before, but never one that stayed while I filled the jar, and never one whose eyes seemed to measure how heavy the jar was.

Keep reading

When I stood up to go, it went first, up the valley path, stopping every few steps to look back. Where the track bent, it turned in a tight curl, round and round on the same patch of thyme, then walked inward toward the hollow under the oak. I followed it in, and at the centre the ground gave way to a seep of cold water no wider than my hand, rising as if somebody below were breathing. My brothers had dug at the bottom of the valley for three summers and found only dust.

I told no one but my mother, and she made me swear to keep the path hidden until the new moon. Each dusk I walked the spiral back out, and each dusk the hare was gone, leaving only a line of small prints winding outward toward the village like thread off a bobbin. Nobody else could walk it without losing their way. Twice my brothers tried and came back muddy and cursing at the circles.

On the day the rains came I pressed the curl into the wet clay of the first bowl I fired, so that anyone who drank from it would have to turn the cup three times before the water reached their mouth. The old potters laughed. They do not laugh now. Even the children turn their cups before they drink, and none of them remember why.