Black and grey blackwork tattoo of triangles, zigzags, dots and solid bands covering a lower leg from below the knee to the ankle.

Blackwork geometric leg tattoo from knee to ankle

Blackwork · Calf · Black and grey · Photo

A bare lower leg is covered from just below the knee to the ankle with a bold geometric pattern. Solid black bands alternate with rows of triangles, zigzag panels and dotted fills, all outlined in crisp black linework. The photograph is black and white, with the leg centred against a blurred garden and the bare foot resting on grass.

Blackwork Geometric Calf Geometric pattern Triangle Zigzag Dot Leg Ankle Foot

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 tide tables came back from the printer in Weymouth with every third triangle pointing the wrong way, and Mrs Ottoline Pyle sent them straight out again with a note pinned to the top sheet. Lodgers at Gull Rock House had read the sea off those tables since before the war. A wrong arrow could put a man on the Sand Bar at the turn of the flood, and she would not have it.

Keep reading

Hal Trevarrow, the lodger who did her sums, spent the evening at the kitchen table with a ruler, a pot of Indian ink and a cup of tea gone cold. He drew the bands first, solid as a slate roof, for the high water mark. Then the zigzags where the flats showed through, dots for the pools the sand held back, and a row of small triangles for the wrack line. He was certain the whole thing was a sort of code, and that he could read it if he stared long enough.

At midnight he took the drawing down to the groyne and held it up against the water. The sequence matched. Each set of waves came in with the rhythm his pen had made, and the foam lay in the same rows as the dots. The printer had made no mistake at all. The map had lagged the bank by a season, and the sea had been printing the true tables in its own ink the whole time.

He pinned the corrected sheet to the back of the scullery door before breakfast. Mrs Pyle read it with her spectacles on the end of her nose, nodded once, and reached for the kettle. Out on the flats the first ripples were already drawing their careful lines, row over row, toward a shore that had moved in the night.