Small dotwork tattoo of a ring of coloured dots forming a colour wheel on the inner wrist of a raised hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Colour wheel of dots on the wrist

Dotwork · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A raised hand with mint green nails is shown against a teal wall. On the inner wrist sits a small ring of about sixteen solid dots in red, orange, yellow, green, blue and purple, arranged like a colour wheel. The bright colours sit cleanly against the skin, and the tattoo is placed centrally in the frame.

Dotwork Forearm Dot Circle Rainbow Hand Wrist

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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 presses at Hollin and Dyer ran through the night, and by two in the morning the ink room smelled of linseed and cold tea. Dilys had been matching colours for eleven weeks, since Arthur's chest gave out and he went home to Halifax with his cardigans and his sixteen-dot card. The card still hung above her bench, pinned at the corners with brass tacks: a ring of painted dots running red, orange, yellow, green, blue and violet, each one a step on the way round.

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The job was a seed merchant's catalogue cover, a sunset that had to look as if it was happening on the page. Every proof came back muddy. She mixed the orange again, then the amber, then a slip of vermilion that made the whole sheet look scorched. Arthur used to say the wheel was not decoration. Across from every colour sat the one that would drag it to grey, and the trick was knowing which opposite to borrow from and which to leave alone.

At ten past three she took the card down and held it under the lamp. Thirty years of his thumb had worn the violet dot to a pale smudge, and the blue beside it was nearly gone. She had been reading the wrong side of the ring. The orange she wanted was not made from orange at all, but from a breath of the blue opposite, pulled back until the warmth came up through it.

She stirred a drop of blue into the pot, watched it sink, and ran the proof again. The sheet came off the roller and the sky over the seed sacks went the colour of a late July evening over the moor. She pinned the card back up with the worn violet facing the room, and wrote the mix on the back in pencil, the way he always had.