Colourful geometric bird tattoo with black hatching and yellow, teal and orange accents on a forearm.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stylised bird on a forearm

Neo-trad · Forearm · Colour · Photo

A stylised bird with a large round eye and angular beak sits above a hatched, rounded body, with a stripe of radiating orange, yellow and teal shapes running down one side. Bold black outlines and fine black hatching define the forms, while flat teal, yellow, orange and red fill the blocks of colour. The design wraps around the forearm and fills the frame against a plain pale background.

Neo-trad Geometric Forearm Bird Animal Geometric shape Stripe

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 fog came over the breakwater at four, thick as wet wool, and Ida Rourke still had two boats out past the Carrick rocks. Her grandfather had carved the gull from a block of driftwood the winter the herring failed, and it had sat on the sill of the net loft ever since, its angular beak pointed at the harbour mouth and its round eye painted a yellow so bright the children swore it could see through murk. Nobody in Scarra Cove believed the eye could do anything, but everybody rubbed the beak before a long night, and Ida rubbed it now on her way past.

Keep reading

She took the lantern down from its hook and rowed out with the oars muffled in sacking. The fog broke into rays where the lamp touched it, bands of orange and teal and a yellow like old butter, and she followed those stripes the way her grandfather had taught her to follow a fish shoal, by watching where the light refused to lie flat. Twice the water went quiet under her, and twice she heard a hull knock against stone that was not there. She kept rowing.

The first boat was Tom Abney's, drifting with its sail slack and its lamp gone out. The second was her cousin's, with the boy asleep in the bilge under a tarpaulin. She tied the boats together, counted heads twice because her hands were shaking, and towed them home along the stripes of light. When she climbed up the slip at last, the net loft was dark except for the sill, where the gull had turned its head a quarter inch toward the sea. Ida stood on the cold stones and wiped her thumb across the yellow paint, which came away on her skin like a small, stubborn sun.