Black and grey mandala-style tattoo wrapping the inner wrist and forearm, with dotwork shading and small dots above and below.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Mandala wrist cuff tattoo on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A wide ornamental band wraps around the inner wrist, built from a central lotus-like medallion with layered petals, scrolls and teardrop shapes. The linework is fine and dense, with stippled dotwork filling the shaded areas and small single dots placed above and below the design. The tattoo is entirely in black ink and grey tones against a plain pale wall, with the composition centred on the wrist.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Mandala Lotus Medallion Petal Scroll 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

Marisol had the lamination folded into its ninth turn before the skylight showed any grey, and her hands knew the rest without her. Cold butter went in, the dough was rolled out and folded in thirds, turned, rested, and rolled again. Outside, the lane behind Carver Street was still black and the bins had not yet been collected.

Keep reading

Her father had taught her to score a boule with one long stroke, the blade held low so the crust would lift into petals once the steam got in. He called it letting the loaf open its mouth. Every morning she cut a ring of seven shallow lines around the top of each round, and in the oven they blossomed outward with a pale centre showing through. Customers thought it was decoration. It was only the steam finding its way out.

The ovens ticked as they heated. Tomas came in at half four, stamping cold off his boots and carrying a tray of poppy seeds and sesame in paper cups. He tipped them onto the bench in small dark dots, and she pressed the seeds into the rounds one at a time, a counting rhythm, while he talked about his brother's wedding and whether the marquee would hold in the wind.

At quarter to six she slid the last tray into the deck oven and shut the door. The window had turned the colour of weak tea. Tomas asked if she was going to the coast after the rush, and she said she would sleep until noon. Then she opened the oven again, only to look. A row of loaves had come up open, pale centres showing through the gold, and no two of them were quite the same.