Black and white photo of a fine script tattoo reading For whoever finds Me finds Life, Proverbs 8:35, on the upper shoulder near the collarbone.

Proverbs 8:35 script on a shoulder

Lettering · Shoulder · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a woman's upper back and shoulder, with a three-line script quotation tattooed near the collarbone. The lettering is set in a flowing, cursive hand with fine, consistent linework and a little shading, and the verse reference sits beneath the quotation in smaller script. The soft focus and plain background keep attention on the text, which is shown in black ink against the skin.

Lettering Shoulder Quote Scripture Bible verse Script Text

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

The brief came scrawled on the back of a bread wrapper: three lines, no more, and the words were from the eighth chapter of Proverbs, which Ada had never once been asked to letter before. She sat at the trestle with her sable brushes and a pot of size and told herself the job was only shapes, the same as any shopfront.

Keep reading

She laid the first line in gold leaf over black, tilting the glass so the afternoon light off the harbour ran along the strokes. 'For whoever finds,' she painted, and the loop of the F hung out over the kerb. Mrs Haskell came out with a tin of tea and stood in the wet street reading it under her breath. 'Finds what?' she asked. Ada said she would see once the second line was on.

The second line was the difficult one. Me finds Life, it said, as if wisdom were a woman calling from the gates of the city, and Ada had painted for a chapel once and knew the kind of hand that wanted the capitals tall and the words hurried. She kept the M narrow, let the s trail into a hairline, and when she stepped back at dusk the line looked as though it had been written quickly by someone who did not expect to be interrupted.

On Saturday a boy with a satchel stopped at the window and sounded the words out slowly, tripping over finds, then asked whether the bakery was giving away life. Mrs Haskell laughed and passed him a bun still warm from the oven, and Ada watched the gold catch the last of the sun off the water, the small line of scripture beneath, Proverbs eight, thirty-five, waiting for someone to read it through to the end.