Torso with a large colour neo-traditional tattoo of glowing honeycomb hexagons and organic swirls across the chest and ribs, with sleeve work on the upper arms.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Colourful honeycomb and organic torso tattoo

Neo-trad · Chest · Colour · Photo

A bare torso, cropped at the neck and above the waistband of dark jeans, is covered by a large full-colour tattoo. Glowing yellow and teal hexagonal honeycomb forms sit over the chest and shoulder, blending into rounded organic shapes, swirls and ribbon-like bands in red, orange and purple across the ribs. Smooth shading gives the forms a raised, three-dimensional look, and tattooed sleeves are visible on both upper arms.

Neo-trad Chest Ribs Shoulder Upper arm Honeycomb Hexagon Swirl Abstract Torso Sleeve

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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

Sit yourself down by the range, bach, and mind the ash, because this is the one about the bees under Gwyn's Level. Your great-grandfather swore to it, and he never once lied to me, though he lied about nearly everything else.

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The seam down there ran gold in the lamplight, the colour of runny honey held up to a window. Nobody cut it. The overman said it wasn't coal and wasn't safe, and the men knocked off whenever they heard it humming through the rock, like a kettle a long way off. Then one March the bees came down the shaft in their thousands, heavy with honey, and settled on the timbers like a shawl. Nobody was stung. They just went down the dark, one after another, towards the far face.

Dai Pritchard was fourteen and too proud to be frightened. He took a candle and followed them past the flooded stope, past the place where the rats wouldn't go, and at the end of the drift he found the comb. It was built into the walls in plates of hexagons, each cell lit from inside, yellow at the heart and bleeding teal where the rock met the wax, and the whole thing breathed slow, like a sleeping animal. He put out his hand. It was warm as a new loaf.

He came up with one cell in his pocket, no bigger than a walnut, and the village had three good years on the strength of it. Then the cell cracked on a Tuesday, the lamps went out in every house on the row, and the bees came back for what was theirs. Dai went down with a hat full of bread and sat with them until morning. Nobody asks him now what he gave them. He only says the mountain was never short of honey, only of folk who knew how to ask.