Black and white drawing of an open hand with mandala and lotus patterns, a dotwork all-seeing eye in a triangle above the fingertips, in a dotwork and geometric style.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hand with eye in triangle design

Dotwork · Black and grey · Flash

A black and white drawing of a hand held in a mudra-like pose, with its outline and mandala and lotus ornaments inked in black on a white fill against a black background. A dotwork triangle containing an eye sits above the raised fingertips. Shading is built from stippled dots and fine linework, and the composition is centred and symmetrical.

Dotwork Geometric Hand Eye Triangle Mandala Lotus Dot Pattern

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 bell of St Enoch's had gone two when Nell Kearsey found the brass hand on the pawnshop counter, still warm from whoever had left it. It was a glove-maker's mould, she thought, or a reliquary for a saint nobody remembered. Its fingers were raised in the gesture her grandmother called the hold-still, thumb and middle finger nearly touching, and above them a small triangle of dots sat with an eye inside it, opened and watching.

Keep reading

Mr Abernethy had locked up at ten. The shop's rule was that nothing came in after dark unless it was ready to be sold, and the ticket said Harkness, a name Nell didn't know. She turned the hand over. On the palm was a lotus with its petals worn to nothing, and round the wrist a mandala someone had cut with a very fine needle. She dragged the lamp closer. The eye seemed to move as the light crossed it, the way a sleeper's eyes move under the lids.

At half two a knock came at the grille. A tall woman in a wet raincoat asked for the hand back, gave the right ticket number, and said nothing about the lamp. Nell kept her palm flat on the counter between them. "Tell me what it's for," she said. The woman looked at the dots for a long moment. "It's for telling people when to stop," she said. "Most of them never do."

Nell wrapped the hand in yesterday's newspaper and passed it through the grille. Outside, the Clyde smelt of diesel and rain. She wrote nothing in the ledger, which Mr Abernethy would notice by Monday, and for the rest of the night the lamp stayed on in the back room, and the eye, she was quite sure, stayed open.