Black and grey owl tattoo with ornate floral and mandala details on the inner forearm, shaded with fine dotwork.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Owl and ornamental design on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A large owl with wide eyes sits at the top of the design, above a symmetrical ornamental panel of scrolls, a central gem-like medallion and floral motifs. The linework is fine and precise, with stippled dotwork shading across the owl's face and the foliage. The tattoo is rendered entirely in black and grey ink and fills the length of a forearm, with a plaid shirt sleeve visible at the right edge.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Owl Mandala Ornament Floral Scroll Gemstone Feather Medallion

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

Dear Marguerite,

Keep reading

I found the old brass compass you lent me in the back of the van, wedged under a box of Mum's jam jars, and I am sorry it took me eleven years to give it back. The owl has been on my desk since Tuesday. Mr Pennock's stuffed barn owl, the one from the science room, which he let me keep after the reunion because nobody else wanted it. Its glass eyes catch the lamp every time I look up, so I have stopped looking up.

You will remember the reunion at the Crown, how the whole room smelled of wet coats and cheap sherry, and how Dolly Ashcombe spent the evening telling everyone she had married a dentist. I sat by the window with a half of bitter and watched the rain run down the glass in little ornamental curls, like the filigree on the cathedral doors in Lincoln. You said I looked like I was waiting for a bus that had been cancelled. I was waiting for you to come and sit down, which you did not do, and I have never forgiven myself for not walking over.

So here is the thing I should have said at the Crown. The medallion Mr Pennock kept in his drawer was never a real gem. You and I knew that. We made the story up in fourth year, that it was a moonstone from the owl's own nest, and that whoever held it at midnight would be told the truth by morning. Silly. But I have been holding it at midnight for a fortnight, and it is only a dull brass disc with a crack down one side, and the truth, when it comes, is plain. I miss you. I miss the van and the roads and the long way round.

Come for supper on Saturday. Bring the compass if you want it back. I will keep the owl watching.

Love, Hannah