Fine line black tattoo of interlocking loops on the inner forearm near the wrist, with small red, blue and purple dots of colour within the design.

Looping fine line tattoo with coloured dots on a wrist

Fine line · Forearm · Mixed · Photo

A single continuous black line forms interlocking loops and teardrop curves that cross over one another in an abstract shape. The linework is thin and even, and a few tiny dots of red, blue, purple and pink ink sit within the loops, giving the otherwise monochrome design a small amount of colour. The tattoo is photographed on the inner forearm close to the wrist against a car interior.

Fine line Forearm Loop Dot

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

You have been sewing since the church bells stopped, and in all that time the thread has not once been cut. The veil lies across your knees like the tide going out, and the rule Aunt Pearl drummed into you at fourteen still holds: one length of silk, one needle, no knots until the job is finished. Beyond the vestry window the marquee lights are flickering on across the lawn, and somebody out there is tuning a fiddle, the same four bars over and over.

Keep reading

The pattern is simple to describe and hard to keep. A single line runs out from the hem, loops back on itself, swells into two teardrops that cross like dancers' legs, then folds round to meet its own beginning. Where the curves overlap you sew in the seed beads, one at a time, and each colour belongs to a different day. Red for the morning she came in soaked from the bus. Blue for the afternoon the florist cried. Violet, and a pale pink you nearly lose in the lace, for the two of them agreeing on something at last.

When the bride peeks round the door with her shoes in one hand and asks whether the loops mean anything, you tell her the truth, which is that a line that goes all the way round never needs a knot to keep it. She laughs and says that sounds like marriage. You pretend to bite the thread, though you don't, because you have not yet reached the end.

The last bead goes on as the fiddler finally finds the right tune. You draw the needle through the final loop, and the thread runs back along the hem to the place where it first met the silk, closing the shape without a single join. You fold the veil over your arm and carry it out into the light, past the tables, towards her.