Hand with lilac nails and small finger tattoos of a treble clef, a pink heart and a symbol, with a realistic portrait tattoo on the back of the hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Finger tattoos and a portrait on the back of a hand

Realism · Hand · Mixed · Photo

A hand with pale lilac nails and gold rings is shown against a brick wall. Small finger tattoos include a black treble clef, an outlined pink heart and a bold black symbol, with a finer black mark on another finger. The back of the hand carries a larger realistic portrait in black, grey, teal and red, showing a woman's eyes and lips.

Realism Hand Treble clef Heart Portrait Lip Eye Symbol Music Woman

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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

Mrs Okonedo had given the piano to the church hall in 1961 on the understanding that someone would tune it every spring, and for thirty-one springs Ivor Penhallow had done so with a wedge of felt, a tuning fork and a flask of stewed tea. This spring the middle C was dead. It sounded like a cough in a wardrobe. He pressed it, released it, pressed it again, and the note refused to come back to him.

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He found the cause under the keyboard action, tucked against the wood like a folded letter: a pale sliver of bone, and beneath it a brass key no longer than a fingernail, stamped with a tiny treble clef. Someone had hidden it there years before, or lost it there. He turned it over. On the back, scratched with a pin, were the initials J.M. and the year 1958, the same year the hall's choir had folded.

He carried the key into the kitchen and asked the caretaker, Dorothy Vance, whether she knew the initials. She laughed so hard she had to sit down on a stack of hymn books. "Jim Marrow," she said. "Played that piano every Thursday for the bingo. Left the choir for a girl with a heart-shaped locket and never came back to sing for her."

Ivor fitted the key back into its slot. The middle C rang out clean and round, and Dorothy, still wiping her eyes, began to hum the tune underneath it. He let the note hang until it faded, which was the only part of tuning he had ever loved.