A loose watercolour hummingbird in pink, purple and yellow with a long thin beak, shown in flight against a plain white background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Pink watercolour hummingbird in flight

Colour · Flash

A hummingbird is shown in mid-flight, facing left, with a long slender beak and a small dark eye. The body and wings are painted in loose watercolour washes of pink, magenta and lilac, with yellow touches along the breast and wing edges. The bird sits alone on a plain white background with generous empty space around it.

Hummingbird Bird Wing Watercolour

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

Mrs Pryce wanted the peonies scraped off her tea-room window by Saturday, and she wanted something in their place that would not upset the Women's Institute. I had a tin of watercolours from my uncle's shop in Swindon and a library book with a hummingbird in it, though the plate was grey and told me nothing about the colour of the thing. I decided that was an advantage.

Keep reading

So I went up the ladder with a jam jar of water and let the paint do what it liked. I laid lilac for the wings and dropped magenta into the wet patch for the body, and when the pink bled into the lilac I didn't stop it. A little yellow went along the breast where the brush was almost dry. When it set, the bird had its head turned as if someone had called its name from the street, and its beak was a single pale stroke I'd nearly missed.

Mrs Pryce came out wiping her hands on her apron and stood on the pavement a long time with her head tilted, the way the vicar looks at a hymn he has not chosen. "It's very pink," she said at last. "It's flying," I said, which was the only argument I had. Behind her, a boy from the bakery had his nose pressed to the glass, and his mother was tugging at his collar.

By four o'clock the sun had come round the corner of the High Street and lit the window from behind, and the bird's wings glowed against the bare white of the pane. Mrs Pryce never did scrape it off. She sold more scones that autumn than she had all year, and the boy still comes in on Thursdays to stand at the window and watch the hummingbird not land.