Black linework tattoo of a woman's face and curly hair built from triangular facets, placed on the outer upper thigh.

Geometric portrait on the thigh

Geometric · Thigh · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a woman's face in profile with voluminous curly hair, formed entirely from interlocking black triangles and angular lines. Shading is created with hatched and cross-hatched fills in the hair and along the cheek and jaw, while the forehead and face areas are left as open skin. The design is in black ink only and sits on the outer upper thigh, filling most of the frame against a plain skin background.

Geometric Fine line Thigh Portrait Woman Face Curly hair Triangle Linework

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The theodolite had frozen again, so Hetty Lusk breathed on its brass and waited while the sheep on Carrick Fell went on ignoring the instrument. Her hair, which had escaped its pins by eight o'clock, sprang out under her cap in tight coils the wind kept trying to flatten. Her father had taught her triangulation on a slate kitchen table in Kendal: three points that could see one another, and everything between them made certain.

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The survey wanted a tower on the far ridge, the last of a chain running south to the coast. Hetty had sighted it from three stations and the angles closed to within a hair, which the county surveyor called luck and she called arithmetic. Yet on the drive back she kept thinking of the face she had sketched on the back of her field book the night before, a woman made only of lines that met at odd angles, her cheekbone a sharp wedge, her mouth a slanted grey shadow.

Her father's letter had come that morning. He was not dying, he wrote, only tired of the hill, and wished her to know the old benchmark at the top of the fell still had its stone. She read it twice, folded it into the field book beside the sketch, and found that the two pages sat well together, as things do when their corners agree.

At the tower she set up alone. The wind dropped for the length of one reading, the bubble settled in its glass, and she wrote the angle down so cleanly it looked ruled by a steady hand. Below her the chain of stations ran away to the sea, each point fixed by the one before. She thought a person could be drawn that way too, one honest angle at a time, until the shape held.