Black and grey dotwork tattoo of a ringed planet with geometric detail on the outer forearm of an arm held out with an open hand.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Ringed planet tattoo on a forearm

Dotwork · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A ringed planet, resembling Saturn, is tattooed on the outer forearm of an arm held out flat with the hand open. The globe is filled with fine dots and small geometric patterns, and the rings are outlined in clean linework. The ink is dark grey to black against pale skin, and the plain light background keeps the focus on the tattoo.

Dotwork Geometric Forearm Planet Saturn Ring Mandala Dot Arm

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 brass orrery has lost its Saturn again, and Mrs Tennant is standing over the workbench with her spectacles pushed up into her hair, asking you where it went. You know exactly where it went. It is in the pocket of your coat, wrapped in a handkerchief, because you took it out last night to see whether the rings would turn without catching, and they did, and you forgot to put it back.

Keep reading

The town of Pell Harbour does not care much for planets. Its boats go out by the tide tables and come home by the church clock, and the men who mend the nets have never once asked what the sky is made of. But the chandler's boy comes in every Thursday with a list of stars for the lighthouse log, and you have been drawing them out for him in dots and fine rings, the way your grandfather taught you to stipple a dial plate: one pinprick at a time, until the whole globe glows.

On Friday the fog came down thick off the Gannet Bank, and the Brightwater trawler did not come home. Mrs Tennant sent you up to the lamp room with the orrery under your arm, because she said the light needed something to look at. You set the planet on the sill with its rings angled toward the dark water. Somewhere past the breakwater a bell began to ring, slow and steady, and you counted the strokes the way you count dots, one after another, until the fog thinned and a single lamp answered from the sea.

When the men came up the slip at dawn, the chandler's boy ran past them to the lamp room and asked whether the planet had been mended. You told him it had never been broken. It had only been keeping watch, the way planets do.