Black ink line drawings on white of mushrooms, cacti, leaf sprigs, ferns and succulents, arranged as a botanical flash sheet with no body placement shown.

Hand-drawn botanical flash sheet in black line

Botanical · Black and grey · Flash

A sheet of small hand-drawn plant designs in black ink on a white background, including mushrooms, a cactus pair, a flowering succulent, leafy sprigs, a fern frond and several bare stems with buds. The linework is simple and even, with little or no shading, and the motifs are scattered across the page with generous spacing between them. The sheet is monochrome and presents the designs as individual pieces rather than a single composition.

Botanical Mushroom Cactus Succulent Leaf Sprig Fern Plant Bud Stem Flower

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 rain came on the Tuesday, and by Thursday the wall behind the allotments had grown a row of pale mushrooms overnight, the kind that look as though they have been set out on purpose. Mr Okonedo next door swore they had come up from the coal bunker. I told him they had come up from the same damp that had got into my notebook, which had swelled so the pages would no longer close.

Keep reading

I had been drawing everything I could find since Dad went into Ferndale Court. Privet sprigs from the railway cutting, a fern frond unrolling in a drain, the fat little succulent the nurse called a stonecrop, which I kept sketching because I could never get its leaves to sit still on the paper. I drew them in ink because pencil made me fuss. Ink forced me to commit. I left the wrong lines in and carried on.

On Saturday my sister came with a bag of seed packets and a cactus in a yoghurt pot, the spiny one with two pads like cupped hands. She sat on the step and asked why I was still drawing plants when the garden had gone to bramble. I had no answer, so I showed her the page: the bare stems with their closed buds, each one standing alone with an inch of white paper around it.

She tapped one bud with her thumbnail. "That one's going to open," she said. It was the only one I had not finished, so I inked the petals in, one at a time, and by dusk the sheet held a flower that had never existed, and the cactus had turned in its pot toward the window.