Black calligraphic line drawing of a butterfly with curved antennae and sweeping wings on a white background, shown as a design rather than on skin.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Stylised butterfly line drawing

Black and grey · Flash

A single butterfly is drawn in bold black brush-like strokes, with a curved body, two thin antennae and two large upswept wings with a smaller lower wing. The linework varies in thickness and tapers at the ends, and there is no shading. The image is a plain black design on a white background with the butterfly placed centrally.

Butterfly Wing Antennae Line art

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

Late August, and the Pearmain trees in Hollow Orchard hung so heavy their props creaked. Edie Marrable had been up the ladder since six, picking the last of the early fruit into canvas bags, and her uncle Tom was not speaking to her because she had sold the good ladder to the Wrights without asking. The gate sign needed repainting before cider day, and he wanted it done by teatime.

Keep reading

She had a brush loaded with black sign-writer's enamel and very little patience. Tom had taught her that a stroke should be made in one movement, pressure first, then a lift so the line thinned to nothing. "Don't fiddle," he kept saying. "A line you fiddle with looks like a worry." The butterfly she wanted in the corner was the one that had settled on that same gate the morning her mother drove away, a small dark thing with long feelers that stayed until the sun reached the hinge.

She drew the body first, a curved stroke like a comma, then the antennae, two hairlines curling at the tips. The upper wing took three attempts. The first two she wiped off with a rag, swearing under her breath, and the board went grey with the mess. On the third, the brush swept up and out, tapered to a point, and she held her breath until it was done.

Tom came round the barn with a mug of tea and stopped. He looked at the board for a long while. "Lower wing," he said. "Go on." She dipped again and drew it, a short fall of black along the bottom edge, and lifted the brush so fine that the last inch sank into the grain. Tom said nothing. He set the mug on the gatepost, and the following week he took the good ladder back from the Wrights himself.