Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Geometric castle outline on forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A castle silhouette is drawn in thin black linework, built from angular facets and triangles rather than curves. The towers rise at different heights with small pointed spires and flag-like tips, and the design is centred on the forearm. The skin is pale and the background is a wooden floor and dark clothing, with the tattoo as the clear focus.
Find an artist for thisTake 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 Palais at Saltcombe had a ceiling of mirrored tiles that threw the dance floor back at us in pieces, so you never quite knew where you were standing. My uncle Ray ran the lights from a box at the back, and he said the trick was never to look up at the glitter but to keep your eye on the stage, where the drummer had painted a castle on his bass drum in gold that flaked a little more every Saturday.
Keep reading
That was the summer I learned to draw straight lines. Ray could not abide a curve. He said curves were for people who had not made up their minds yet. So when I was sixteen and needed a poster for the Midsummer Ball, I drew a castle the way he had taught me, a fan of triangles for every tower, each spire a sharp point with a little pennant that snapped in the draught from the fire door. Mrs Okonedo at the box office pinned it beside the ticket window and said it looked like a castle folded out of tin foil by someone in a hurry.
The ball was so crowded that nobody noticed when the power went at half ten. The band kept playing for a bar or two on sheer nerve, then gave up, and we danced in the grey light from the open doors while the sea hushed against the sea wall. Ray found me on the back stairs with the poster rolled under my arm, and he did not tell me off. He just unrolled it on the step, ran his thumb along one of the spires, and said it would do.
I kept that poster. The black lines have faded to the colour of weak tea, but I can still find the tallest tower with my eyes shut, and its pennant still points the way the wind was blowing that night, out past the pier towards the water.
More like this
From the plentytattoo archive, uploaded by a user. Is this your work? Ask for credit or removal.