Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pineapple tattoo on the inner wrist

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A single pineapple is tattooed on the inner wrist, with the crown of leaves pointing upwards and the fruit body shaded in black and grey. The fruit's diamond pattern is rendered with fine dark marks and soft tonal gradients. The pineapple sits centrally on the wrist against plain skin, with a yellow string bracelet visible above it and a blurred background at the edge of the frame.

Botanical Forearm Pineapple Fruit Leaves

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

Josiah Pell had hired out the same pineapple nine times before the fruit began to soften at the crown. It lived in a glass-fronted cabinet above the chandlery on Gull Quay, wrapped in flannel between engagements, and it went out each Saturday in a handcart with a boy walking alongside. The hire fee was two guineas for an evening, which bought a table of gentlemen the chance to admire something that had crossed an ocean and come through the salt air unbroken.

Keep reading

Mrs Harriet Vosper sent for it on the tenth of March. She wanted it for her husband's birthday dinner, set in the centre of the table on a plate of blue Delft, crown upright, so the candlelight would catch the scored diamonds of its skin. Josiah carried it up the hill himself. He turned it slowly in his hands on the doorstep, counting the lozenges as he went, the way his mother had taught him to count stitches, one row and then the next, until he reached a hundred and twelve and was satisfied the thing was whole.

The dinner ran late. Josiah waited in the scullery with a cup of cold tea, listening to the clatter of plates and laughter through the wall. When the boy finally came down with the plate, the pineapple sat on it nearly untouched, the leaves still green, but a neat hollow had been cut into one side, the way a man cuts a melon to test its ripeness. Someone had wanted to know what it tasted like before the guests were allowed to ask.

Josiah brought it home, unwrapped it, and set it back in the cabinet. Then he opened the ledger and wrote beside the date a word he had never written before: returned. He entered the fee as nothing. Below that, in smaller letters, he wrote the name of the young housemaid who had brought the plate down to him and had not once looked away from the hollow.