Fine line black outline tattoo of an elephant head on the side of a person's torso, near the hip.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Elephant head outline on the side of the body

Fine line · Other · Black and grey · Photo

A single-line outline of an elephant head in profile, with the ear and trunk drawn as simple curves. The linework is thin and uniform, and the design is filled with no shading. The tattoo is in black ink on warm, lightly tanned skin, with a fringed tassel visible at the left edge of the frame.

Fine line Other Elephant Animal Outline

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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 Majestic's cloakroom hatch was my post on Saturdays, between the lemonade urn and the door to the gents, and the dance floor was loud enough that I could feel the bass drum through the wood. That night a man came up to the hatch with his cap in one hand and a rolled paper under his arm, and he waited his turn behind a sailor who wanted his mac back before the last waltz.

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His name was Ambrose Cull, and he had walked Juno, the circus elephant, from the fairground at Skegness to the sea wall every morning for eleven years. She had gone down with a chill in February, and nobody had the heart to say what the council would charge to take her away. He unrolled the paper on my counter. It was an elephant's head in profile, drawn in one unbroken line, the ear a single loop and the trunk curling in toward the chin like a question mark. No shading, no hatching. He said shading was for people who had time to lie about what they had lost.

I asked him why he hadn't finished it. He touched the paper with one finger and said he had finished it, he had just never lifted the pen. He had started at the top of the forehead on the night she died and let the line run round the ear and down the trunk without stopping, so the drawing was one continuous journey back to where it began. I told him that was daft. He agreed, and then he asked if I'd mind keeping it behind the counter until he could afford a frame.

I pinned it above the hatch, between the lost property notice and the price of a stiff gin. Every Saturday the sailors look up at it while they wait for their coats, and every Saturday somebody asks whether it's a dog. I tell them it is an elephant, and that she is still walking.