Bold black tribal blackwork tattoo with swirls and a toothed band across the side of the ribs.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Tribal blackwork motif on the ribs

Blackwork · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A large solid-black tribal design sits on the side of the torso, with curved shapes, spirals and a row of small toothed triangles. The bold black fills contrast with the bare skin left between the lines, and the design wraps around the ribs. The image is in black ink only, with a plain grey top above and a soft-focus background.

Blackwork Ribs Tribal Swirl Spiral Pattern

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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

Mind the fourth-floor landing, the bulb's gone, and keep your hand on the rail. I'm going to tell you about the shark who lived in the creek under Harrow Court before there was any Harrow Court, when all of this was marsh and eel traps. Sit on the step if your legs are tired. I've climbed these stairs for forty-one years and I still stop at the turn.

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The shark was called Brindle by the old fishermen, and he was no monster. He was a patient fellow who swam the creek on the tide, and every black curl along his flank was a wave he had already swum over. The men who mended nets said you could read his life in those spirals. Each one was a storm he had turned his nose into rather than give up the water. The little toothed triangles that ran down his back were the children he had let swim past him, counted one by one.

Then the council men came in 1974 with their pile drivers and their yellow machines, and they wanted the creek filled in for concrete. Brindle didn't argue. He pushed the tide up through every drain on the estate, and by morning the diggers were sunk to their axles in grey mud, and Councillor Pike was standing in his good shoes on a rubbish heap, asking somebody for a boat.

So if you hear water ticking in the pipes tonight, don't be frightened. Put your ear to the radiator on the eleventh floor and you'll hear him turning over in his sleep, still counting.