Black and grey photograph of a geometric blackwork tattoo of solid and outlined hexagons across a forearm and onto the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hexagon blackwork on forearm and ribs

Geometric · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The photograph shows a person lying down with one arm raised, displaying a large hexagon design on the forearm that fades into fine parallel lines near the wrist. A separate outlined hexagon cluster with stacked, offset lines sits on the side of the ribs, and the torso is bare apart from dark trousers at the waistband. The work is entirely black ink with no greys or colour, and the composition is shot at a slight angle from above.

Geometric Blackwork Forearm Ribs Hexagon Honeycomb Geometric pattern Line Outline

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 bees had stopped coming to the hive on Dunmore Hill the week the surveyor arrived, and Ada Corrie blamed the pins he drove into the grass. She had watched him from the kitchen window, a tall man with a measuring chain over his shoulder, clicking his tongue at the slope as though it had insulted him. By Thursday he had left a row of white-tipped stakes running down toward the river, each one tied with a strip of red cloth.

Keep reading

Her grandfather had kept the old hives in a honeycomb of wax and cedar, six sides to every box, and he used to say a hexagon was the only shape nature trusted, because it wasted nothing. Ada had never believed him. She believed in straight fences and rain that came when it was promised. But on the fourth morning she walked down with a jar and a spoon, and found the surveyor kneeling by a stake, sketching a grid in a notebook, every line bending itself into six-sided cells that went on past the edge of the paper.

"It doesn't close," he said, not looking up. "I keep drawing the same cell and the next one won't meet it."

She crouched beside him and saw that he was right. The lines stacked and stepped away from one another like the reflections in a shop window, each cell a little offset from the last, and the orchard's apple trees stood in the middle of it, too small to notice.

She took the notebook, turned it sideways, and drew one hexagon with a single unbroken line. Then she handed it back. "Start there," she said, "and let the others come to it."