Black and grey daisy tattoo with a yin yang centre on the inner forearm, shown against a knitted blanket.

Yin yang daisy on a forearm

Botanical · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

The tattoo shows a daisy-style flower with a yin yang symbol at its centre, drawn in dark outlined petals. The petals are shaded with grey tones that give them some depth, and the yin yang is rendered in solid black and white. The flower sits on the inner forearm, photographed casually against a textured blanket.

Botanical Forearm Daisy Flower Yin yang

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 seed packets had sat in two biscuit tins since Easter, one labelled SHADE and one labelled SUN, both in Dora's hand. Ruth never read the labels. She tipped the seeds out by feel, the way she had once sorted buttons, and mixed them on the kitchen table until nobody could say which was which.

Keep reading

By June the daisies had come up in a rough ring on the allotment bed behind the canal wall, white petals packed close around a middle that refused to be simple. Dora wanted to pull the seedlings that had come up in the wrong place. Ruth stood at the gate with her trowel and said the middle was the point. Someone had to decide which half of the flower got the sun and which half got the shade, and she was not going to be the one.

They argued through the heat of the afternoon, sitting on upturned crates with a flask of tea gone cold between them. Dora said a flower could not be half light and half dark, and it was daft to pin that on a daisy. Ruth said the daisies had decided it already. Look at the centre of each one, where the yellow had gone tight and round and two small seeds sat like full stops. Only the bed needed sorting, not the flowers.

In the evening Dora carried the SHADE tin to the far end of the plot and tipped it out where the wall threw its long grey shadow, and Ruth shook the SUN tin onto the warm bricks. Neither of them touched the middle of the ring. By August the two patches had grown into one white circle with a dark curl running through its heart, and the herons stood in the shallows looking at it as though someone had finally asked them the right question.