Colour tattoo of a dreamcatcher with feathers and beads on the upper thigh, shaded in soft watercolour washes of blue, teal, purple and pink.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Watercolour dreamcatcher on the thigh

Thigh · Colour · Photo

A dreamcatcher with a woven web, hanging feathers, wooden beads and a loose ring of tassels is tattooed on the outer thigh. The web is drawn in dark outline and filled with soft, bleeding washes of blue, teal and purple, with small coloured dots along the strands. The feathers below are shaded in pale blue, lilac and coral against a plain light background.

Thigh Dreamcatcher Feather Bead Web Tassel

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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

Sit down, sit down, the lamp's only just lit and the cider's still warm. You want the tale of Mags Harrow's web? Then hush, because the wind on the common doesn't like being talked over.

Keep reading

Mags ran the coconut shy and the tent with the painted cloth, and she wove a ring of willow cut from the hedge behind the showground at Spalding. She strung it with sinew and thread the colour of a bruised plum, then washed it in swimming-pool blue until the edges ran. She beaded it with wooden pieces from her mother's broken rosary and dotted in paint, pink and yellow and a green like new bracken, wherever a dream ought to get caught.

Every night the fair packed up, she hung the ring over the caravan door, and the colours bled out into the sky above the field, so the children woke saying they'd seen blue smoke. The feathers she gathered from the pigeons on the big wheel, pale as dishwater, and dipped them in lilac and coral so they'd drift like they were still in the air. Nobody asked why the bottom ones grew heavier each season.

The year the lorry went into the ditch on the Fen road, the dreams caught in her web were all the ones nobody could remember. She sold them back at a penny a go, one to a customer, and she never once asked what they'd been. So if you wake with a colour on your tongue and no notion where it came from, that's Mags's web doing its job. Mind the feathers on your way out, they're still wet.