Blue-ink botanical tattoo of a bouquet of pansies and small flowers with a butterfly, on the outer forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Blue floral bouquet on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A bouquet of pansies, small clustered blossoms and leaves sits on the forearm, with a butterfly to the lower right of the flowers. The design is drawn in fine, detailed linework with soft shading in several tones of blue. The arm is photographed against a plain pale background, with the hand visible at the top right and the bouquet placed toward the centre of the frame.

Botanical Forearm Flower Pansy Bouquet Leaves Butterfly Blossom

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 sun had been on the frame since breakfast and Mother still would not let me lift the glass. Pansies, she said, need the full hour, or they come out looking like bruises. Every flower on the bench had been pressed flat between blotting card and laid face down on the sensitised paper, and the frames sat in the yard by the pump like slates waiting to be counted.

Keep reading

Father mixed the chemicals in the back kitchen with the blinds half down, the way he always did, humming the same hymn tune until the iron salts dissolved. The paper went blue-green when it dried and would not stay that colour for long. Where the light reached it, it turned the white of a plate. Where a leaf or a petal had lain across it, the leaf stayed white on blue, as if the plant had left its own signature. Hollin End sat at the edge of Ashgrove Wood, and most of what grew in our gardens had come from under those trees.

Halfway through the hour a red admiral came down and settled on the corner of the frame, its wings opening and closing on the glass. I went to shoo it away. Mother caught my wrist and said to leave it, that a thing which chooses your frame has chosen your picture. So it stayed, and the frame stayed in the sun, and when I finally carried it indoors the butterfly had gone but its shadow was printed clean beside the bouquet.

We rinsed the sheets in the stream until the water ran clear, and the flowers came up white against a blue like the sky over the wood before rain. I kept the print with the butterfly. It was not the best one. It was the only one that had been looked at by something that could fly away.