Black fine line geometric elephant tattoo made of angular facets, on the upper arm of a person wearing a floral patterned sleeve.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric elephant on an upper arm

Geometric · Upper arm · Black and grey · Photo

A single elephant in profile is drawn from angular, faceted lines that form a low-poly outline with no solid fill. The thin black linework is crisp and even, and the design sits centrally on the skin with plenty of space around it. The patterned fabric of the sleeve and the soft skin tone form a busy but muted backdrop.

Geometric Fine line Upper arm Elephant Animal Polygon Outline

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

The crate arrived at Saint Ebba's in the wet week after Michaelmas, addressed to a bishop who had died two winters earlier. Brother Anselm, who kept the accounts and the lantern room, was ordered to open it with a chisel while the prior hovered at his shoulder. Inside, packed in straw, lay a small elephant cut from a single slab of grey slate, every face of it flat and angled, its trunk folded back like a dropped ribbon.

Keep reading

Nobody in the valley had ever seen an elephant, and the prior was certain it was a heathen idol. Anselm disagreed. He turned it in his hands and counted the planes: eleven on the back, nine on the head, each one meeting its neighbour at an edge so sharp he could have shaved with it. "It is not a god," he said. "It is a sum." The prior did not laugh, but he let the slate stand on the refectory sill where the morning light could find it.

Through the winter Anselm sat with it and drew it again and again on the backs of spoiled vellum, joining each facet to the next with a single black line. By Candlemas he had a sheet of forty elephants, each one a little less certain than the last, and he began to suspect the stone had been carved to be traced rather than admired. He wrote to the bishop's nephew asking what the creature was meant to be.

The reply came in March, a single line: "Carve what you can see." Anselm took the chisel down from its nail, sat at the sill, and began to cut the first flat face into the blank grey wall of the lantern room, where the sun would strike it at noon.