A flash sheet of nine black ink geometric circle designs with overlapping circles, triangles, hexagons and star shapes, with no body placement shown.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Nine sacred geometry circle designs on a flash sheet

Geometric · Black and grey · Flash

A sheet of nine circular geometric designs drawn in black ink on cream paper, arranged in a three by three grid. The designs combine overlapping circles, triangles, hexagons and eight-pointed stars, with some drawn in fine outline and others with solid black or grey filled sections. The composition is even and symmetrical, with each motif set within its own circular frame.

Geometric Sacred geometry Circle Flower of life Triangle Hexagon Star Overlapping circles Mandala

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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

By the third week of the autumn run you can draw a true circle without lifting the compass, and Tomasz Vell says that is the only skill a deckhand needs. He keeps a sheet of paper pinned under the wheelhouse glass, nine rings inked in careful black, and he claims the sea is only a grid you have not yet counted. You copy them at the chart table while the Marigold rolls over the swell off Skerrow Bank, the compass point skidding and leaving a small scar in the paper each time.

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Ailsa, who mends the nets on the quay, shows you the same shapes hiding in the warp. Every knot is a ring you agree to close, she says, and where three rings meet you get a triangle that will not sag under a ton of mackerel. She teaches you to tar the hexagons by hand, brush pressed flat, so the black sits heavy at the centre and thins to nothing at the rim. She never looks up while she talks, only at the mesh going through her fingers.

The gale comes in from the north-west on the third night, and the trawl fouls on the bottom. Tomasz is below with a fever, so the wheel is yours, and the spread of the boards is a figure you cannot hold in your head. You stop trying. You unpin the sheet, lay it flat on the chart, and find the centre of the eight-pointed star. Each point is a bearing. Count them the way Ailsa counts knots, and the boat starts to tell you where to turn.

At dawn the net comes up clean, the hold heavy with silver. Tomasz wipes the glass with his sleeve, sees the paper stained with brine, and asks what you did. You tell him you drew a circle and waited for it to close. He laughs, then coughs, then nods at the star as if it were a signature.