Two inner wrists side by side, one with a solid blue French horn tattoo and the other with an orange umbrella tattoo with a black handle.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

French horn and umbrella on wrists

Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A blue French horn sits on the left inner wrist as a near-solid silhouette with some lighter detail showing the valves and tubing. On the right wrist, an orange umbrella with pale highlight lines and a thin black handle curling at the bottom. The photo is taken from above against grass and dark clothing, with both designs sitting level across the wrists.

Forearm Umbrella Wrist Pair

Find an artist for this

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

Rain had been coming down since midnight, and by four the gutters over the yard were rattling like a bad brass section. Ruth stood in the bakery doorway with three proving trays stacked up to her chin and looked at the umbrella on its hook by the flour bins. It was orange as a traffic cone, and its black handle still bore the bend where her brother had once tried to open it indoors to make her laugh.

Keep reading

Danny came in from the van with his horn case under one arm and a paper bag of yesterday's rolls under the other, steaming through the wet wool of his coat. The Crown had thrown the session out early, and he smelled of cold lager and a cigarette he had promised to stop buying in March. He set the case on the scrubbed table and nodded at the oven. "Still ticking," he said. "Sounds like a tuba that's given up on Wagner."

She didn't laugh, but she slid a tray of brioche across to him, and he tore one open while it was still too hot to hold. For an hour they worked in the warm dark, shaping and scoring while the window went from black to slate. Then Danny unclipped the horn and played one low note into the cooling room, quiet enough not to wake the street, and the dough on the racks seemed to lift a fraction towards it. Ruth pretended not to notice the way her hands had stopped moving.

When the first bus groaned past outside, she took the umbrella from its hook and pushed it into his hands. "You'll need this for the walk." He looked at it, then at her, and tucked the horn case under his arm again. "I'll bring it back Thursday." She watched him go out into the grey light with the orange canopy held high over his head, and she left the back door propped open so the rain could blow in and cool the loaves.