Black line work panda face tattoo with yellow, orange and teal geometric shapes, placed on the upper torso.

Geometric panda face on the chest

Geometric · Chest · Mixed · Photo

A panda or bear face is drawn in dense black parallel lines, with round ears, a black nose and a stippled muzzle. Overlapping translucent blocks of purple, yellow, orange and turquoise sit behind the left side of the face, with a circle and triangles forming a geometric backdrop. The composition is centred on the chest, with the bold linework dominant and the colour used as accents.

Geometric Dotwork Chest Panda Bear Circle Triangle Geometric shape

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

By the time the king's clerk carried the commission up the stairs of your workshop in Hallow Reach, you had cut ten thousand lines into copper and not one of them had wandered. The order was for a seal for the Bear Council, a bear with a painted mask, though nobody in Veldmoor had ever seen a panda and the old almanacs drew the animal with the wrong ears. You worked from the Council's sketch and shaded every hair with a single stroke, parallel as rain.

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The trouble began with colour. The Council wanted the seal to glow when held to a window, so you cut three panes from coloured glass: violet, saffron and a turquoise ground from crushed kingfisher shell. You laid a saffron circle over a disc of vermilion and set a turquoise triangle beneath them, so that the light fell through the bear's left eye and made a small sun on the table. The clerk said the bear looked as if it were squinting at something far off. You told him the bear had always been looking at whatever it meant to eat.

On the night of the signing the chancellor held the seal to the lamps, and the panes threw a blue wedge across his knuckles. He laughed, then stopped. The saffron circle lay exactly over the line of the treaty that handed the northern river to the crown. You had not meant it. Or you had, a little, the way a hand moves before the head has decided.

Nobody asked afterwards who had cut the glass. The bear went onto every coin for two hundred years, and children in Veldmoor learned to count its lines before they learned their letters. You kept the first proof in a drawer, the stippled muzzle still unfinished. Some evenings you run a thumb over the dots and feel the grain of the copper, and you think about the river, and how easily a picture can carry a promise nobody meant to make.