Hand resting on a thigh with a black fine line floral vine wreath tattoo, plus small eye and crescent moon tattoos on the fingers.

Floral vine wreath on a thigh with hand tattoos

Fine line · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

A hand with pale pink nails rests against bare skin beside a large black floral vine tattoo that curves across the thigh. The fine line work uses single black strokes for leaves, small five-petal flowers and dotted buds, with a few tiny dashes on the wrist and small eye and crescent moon designs on the fingers. The image is entirely black and grey ink, with silver rings and a blue stone adding colour against the white lace.

Fine line Botanical Thigh Hand Vine Wreath Flower Leaves Eye Crescent moon Dot Dashes

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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

Dear Nell, The lock keeper at Hillmorton has finally stopped scowling at me, which I take as a sign the bank holiday crowds have gone home. I'm writing this at the tiller with the tin kettle hissing on the little stove, so forgive the smudges. Dad's old brushes are still in the tin under the bunk. I found them on Tuesday looking for the spare windlass, and I sat on the cabin step for an hour with a jar of cold tea, trying to remember how he did a wreath.

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He never painted roses on a boat without drawing the vine first in one long stroke, he said, because if you lifted the brush the thing would look stuck on. So I tried it on the back cabin panel where the paint had gone chalky. Single strokes for the leaves, a flick of the wrist for each five-petalled flower, and little dots for buds that wouldn't open till spring. It curled round the window as if it was looking for the sun. A boy from the next boat asked if it was a crown. I said it was a wreath for going somewhere, and I didn't entirely mean it as a joke.

The moon I put on the cratch board the night before, a thin crescent with nothing inside it, because Dad always left one empty space on every boat he ever painted. He said it was so the boat could breathe. I didn't have the heart to fill it in.

I'm heading down to Braunston on Saturday with the water tanks full and the wreath still tacky at the edges. Come and see it if you can. Bring the good tea and a blanket, and don't tell Mum I'm sleeping in the front cabin with the hatch open.

Love, Jo