Black line drawing of a sitting fox built from straight geometric facets, shown as a tattoo design on a plain white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Geometric fox line drawing

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A seated fox is drawn in bold black outline, with pointed ears, a triangular face and a solid black triangle for the nose. The body is built from straight angular panels with a central vertical line, and the tail curls out to one side. The design uses only black lines and a white background, with no shading and a simple, centred composition.

Geometric Fox Animal

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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

Mind the step, it's loose, and keep your hand off the third board or you'll be wet to the knees. There. Sit where the gull can't reach you. Now, the fox. Old Harriet Pyle kept her fox on the sill of the net loft, and nobody in Porthgarrow ever saw her fold it, which is the first thing you should know about foxes. They don't let you watch.

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She'd cut it from one square of grey ledger paper, the sort the harbourmaster used for tide tables, and she worked it with nothing but her thumbnails. Pointed ears first, then the face, a diamond folded down the middle until the nose came to a point as black as a tar pot. The body she made from straight panels, sharp as a ship's keel, with one line running down the middle so the fox would stand true. The tail went off to the side as if it had somewhere better to be.

The winter the Marigold failed to come round the point, Harriet stood that fox on the harbour wall and walked it along the edge, corner to corner, the way you'd test a rope. It kept its nose toward the channel. Her husband laughed and called it foolishness, and then the lamps went out in the fog and the fox was still pointing, straight as a plumb line, at the gap between the rocks. They came in on the tide at first light, all four of them, cold and cursing and alive.

Harriet unfolded the paper afterwards and smoothed it flat on the table. Every crease was still there, a map of hard lines with nothing soft in it. She never folded another one. She said a fox that had done its job was owed a rest, and that was all she would say about it.