Enlarged with AI from a smaller original
Violin outline tattoo on a forearm
Fine line · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo
A single violin is drawn in thin black outline, with its scroll at the top and a dotted shadow along the neck. The body is shown with simple straight and curved lines, and the tattoo sits on pale skin with a plain white background. The composition is centred on the forearm and the image is in black and grey.
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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction
Mind the rail, the lot of you, and keep your elbows off the fiddle case. Aye, that's the one. Fourteen years it rode in the bosun's locker of the Ardent Mary, and never once did it get wet, which is more than I can say for the men who carried it.
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Her name was Ottilie Crane, and she came aboard at Valparaiso with one trunk and a letter from a dead uncle. She was no sailor. She played the violin the way a gull sings, badly and all the time, until the second mate threatened to pitch it over the side. So she taught him. Every night in the forecastle he hummed the bass line while she bowed the top, and that scroll, curled like a sea-shell, bobbed up and down the mast-stays with the swell.
Then came the calm off the Horn, nine days with the sails slack as washing on a line. The water went flat as slate. Nobody spoke. On the tenth morning Ottilie opened the case and played the one tune her uncle used to hum, and the sea, the old fool, lifted a long grey breath and put a wind into the topsails. We made Falmouth in eleven days.
Here's the part they never put in the papers. When we docked she handed the fiddle to me and said it had its own opinions about weather, and would I mind it. I've minded it since. Mind the rail now, and sit close. That tune is the only compass I trust.
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