Fine line tattoo on the outer thigh showing a red line drawing of a woman's head with flowing hair above a navy line drawing of a standing figure.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Red and blue line figures on a thigh

Fine line · Thigh · Mixed · Photo

The tattoo shows a woman's profile with long, flowing hair drawn in red, with a second figure in dark blue beneath it. The linework is thin and continuous, with no shading, and the figures sit one above the other across the thigh. The picture is cropped at the top by a blue and white striped garment, and the colours are bright against the skin.

Fine line Thigh Woman Profile Hair Figure Line art

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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

You are sixteen the summer the old painter Hannah Creed comes aboard the Lark at Braunston with a tin of vermilion, a blue jersey tied round her waist and no patience for questions. She works the way the bargemen steer, without looking back. She asks you to hold the lamp, and once her brush has touched the wood it never lifts until the line is finished.

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The lady goes on first, in vermilion. It is one unbroken stroke from the crown of her head, over the brow and down past the nape, and the loose hair she lets fall and fall until it runs out of the paint and into the grain. You want to ask why there is no eye. Hannah says the eye is what the viewer brings. Below her, in navy, she draws a second figure, a woman folded over her own reflection, so close that their outlines nearly meet at the mouth.

Lock keepers come and go. Your father drinks tea with the cook on the towpath. The canal narrows past Napton and the water goes the colour of stewed tea, and still Hannah does not stop. On the last evening she sets the brush down and makes you trace the red line with your finger, slowly, from the hair to the hip. It does not break under your fingertip. Nothing does, she says. You keep moving and the line keeps you.

In the morning the Lark is gone from the lock, and on the cabin side the red hair runs off the edge of the panel where she did not have room. A single drop of paint has slid from the last curl and hardened on the wood, and you realise she left it there on purpose, so that you would know where the line ended.