Black fine line drawing of a giraffe whose outline and neck are formed from flowing script lettering, shown on a plain white background.

Giraffe outline formed from script lettering

Fine line · Black and grey · Flash

A giraffe stands side on, its head raised and its body and legs drawn as single continuous lines. Its torso is built from cursive script lettering, while the neck and legs use thin unbroken strokes. The drawing is in black ink on white with no shading, and the figure sits centred in the frame with plenty of empty space around it.

Fine line Lettering Giraffe Script Lettering Animal Outline

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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

Sit yourselves down by the range, and mind the cat, she's had a worse winter than any of us. The year the travelling show came over the ridge road with its painted wagons, old Mabel Penhale was out at the bottom field breaking ice on the trough, and she looked up to see a thing standing in the sleet like a church steeple that had lost its way.

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It was a giraffe. Tall as the barn roof, with a neck that went up and up until the head was lost in the cloud. The showman said its name was Stalld, though he'd painted it wrong on the board, and he'd lost the key to its crate in a card game at Tarrow. So the beast stood in Mabel's field three nights with its legs folded under it like a heron, stripping the ivy off the north wall, and nobody had the heart to shift it.

On the fourth morning Mabel's granddaughter, Ivy, who could write a better hand than the vicar, took a stub of blue chalk and began to write along its flank. She wrote the name over and over, the loops running into one another, until the whole body was made of her hand, with the neck and legs left bare where the chalk gave out. When the frost came down, the giraffe did not move. When the thaw came, the showman returned for it, read the words on its side, and went quiet for a long while.

Ivy's the only one who knows what the letters said, and she never told me. Some things you write so the beast can walk off carrying your name, and that is all the story there is. Mind the fire now, it's going out.