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A young elf is interrupted during her meditation.

While hiking, I saw a crow so I painted the crow's personality

Spring is always here, streaming from my sketchbook.

Model Drawing Sketch Study by Oz Galeano Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arte_ozgaleano/ Comissions: https://www.fiverr.com/s/6WzyVL Donations: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/ozgaleano Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@OzGaleano?sub_confirmation=1 Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Ozgaleano Shop: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/ozgaleano/ TIK TOK: https://www.tiktok.com/@oz_galeano Behance: https://www.behance.net/ozgaleano KO-FI: https://ko-fi.com/ozgaleano/commissions

a planet has continents that are concepts. there are arrows indicating "immigration" and "emigration" between the continents. the continents are concepts.... there is movement between "they/them" , "she/her", and "he/him". there is also movement between "black", "Hispanic", and "white". there is also movement between "Spain", "Mexico", and "Brazil". gender is a concept. race is a concept. nationality is a concept.

I am very open to any way I could improve, please give feedback :)

I painted the floorboards of my living room one by one and found myself in an unusual room

A person in a relaxed posture sits in a bean bag chair, grasping a drink while surrounded by the phrase "It's an only exist kind of day." The color palette is cozy, with muted greens and reds creating an atmosphere of calm contentment.

Art was created in acrylics and colored pencils on gessoed illustration board. Size 9 x 11 inches

A dense cluster of geometric buildings sits beside the phrase "Offline is the New Rich" highlighting a contrast between urban and online life, and simplicity. To the right, a small house stands alone surrounded by trees and clouds.

Somewhere out there are a bunch of butterflies having a conversation about whether they've ever landed on a human, and one of them says "Yeah, it's an acquired taste."

The warm weather in Edinburgh today got me inspired yet again! About time, winter was just too… winter, for my tastes.

Mark Twain (1835–1910) In the 1870s and ’80s, the Twain family spent their summers at Quarry Farm in New York, about two hundred miles west of their Hartford, Connecticut, home. Twain found those summers the most productive time for his literary work, especially after 1874, when the farm owners built him a small private study on the property. That same summer, Twain began writing The Adventures of Tom Sawyer. His routine was simple: he would go to the study in the morning after a hearty breakfast and stay there until dinner at about 5:00. Since he skipped lunch, and since his family would not venture near the study—they would blow a horn if they needed him—he could usually work uninterruptedly for several hours. “On hot days,” he wrote to a friend, “I spread the study wide open, anchor my papers down with brickbats, and write in the midst of the hurricane, clothed in the same thin linen we make shirts of.” Whether or not he was working, he smoked cigars constantly. One of his closest friends, the writer William Dean Howells, recalled that after a visit from Twain, “the whole house had to be aired, for he smoked all over it from breakfast to bedtime.” - From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey “Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.” ― Mark Twain #dailyrituals #inktober #MarkTwain @masoncurrey

#PleinAirpril Day 1 ∙ When I visited this park a week before, I didn’t see the candy there at first. The second time I visited, I realized they were disguised as trees.

I saw this art in the Pinterest of my teacher and desired to draw it too!

It was a gloomy day so I redecorated it

Even with the wheel well and truly turning for the Beltane Fire Festival again, there’s still time for me to start a new sketchbook! Introducing “It Is What It Was” :-)

A person is depicted wearing a large pet recovery cone around their neck, trying to check his smartphone with the words "Digital Detox" prominently displayed. The image humorously comments on the idea of needing a barrier to reduce phone usage.

It’s been rainy here so I painted rain with flowers already included

There’s a lot of waiting in life. Waiting in lobbies. Waiting on answers. Waiting for braces to tighten, kids to grow, hearts to heal, or prayers to be answered. I sat at the orthodontist, watching dollars tighten on tiny wires, and made this sketch. A tree. A house. A street. Color helped the moment breathe. I remember once hearing a chess master say, “There is no waiting in chess.” It confused me—wasn’t there always a turn to wait for? But he explained: “There’s no waiting. Only planning. Plotting. Analyzing. You’re always thinking.” I once repeated that to a FIDE master. He got mad. Maybe because waiting and patience aren’t the same thing. We can be still and deeply active inside. We can pause without being passive. And then there’s Lindsey’s voice in the back of my head: “That sounds like a first-world problem.” “Speak life.” “Be thankful. Rejoice always.” And she’s right. So here’s to filling waiting time with something creative. Something kind. Something that turns a delay into a doorway.

I have painted this art when I was in 8th grade as a homework, but my teacher wasn’t see my sketch from some reasons and I came to sad cuz I work hard for it. So I upload it to show at least to you!

The tulips in my art studio are in full bloom but I’m gonna have to mow my grass again soon.

This park didn’t have enough trees so I painted this ultimate tree.

Years ago, I sketched Gibby at work—pencil in hand, bold strokes alive with motion. I caught them from over the shoulder: just the back of their head, the soft curve of their face, and that focused arm bringing something into being. They were 9 or 10 then, already showing the spark of creativity and concentration that pointed toward who they’d become. Now in their mid-20s, Gibby is thoughtful, insightful—quick to listen, slow to speak, and wired to process the world with care. Their path has been remarkable: two degrees in 2.5 years, no debt. That didn’t happen by accident. It took grit, German immersion schooling, 16 college credits earned in high school, and testing out of 24 more once at university. That’s Gibby—quietly determined, resourceful, and steady. But their story isn’t just academic. Gibby’s always been gifted with their hands—drawn to set design, locksmithing, welding. Trades they wanted to pursue early on, and still feel pulled toward. They’re at a bike shop now. It’s not the dream, but it fits: their hands know how to build, repair, and reshape the world. There’s been frustration—maybe even anger—that we didn’t let them follow the trade route right away. I get that now. Life veers, and sometimes the path chosen isn't the one imagined. But Gibby’s resilience—their ability to adapt and press on—is what I admire most. They’ve embraced their journey with honesty, stepping into their identity as a they/them person, unafraid to define success in their own terms. That takes courage. I’m proud of them—not for a résumé, but for who they are. This old drawing isn’t just a memory—it’s a thread connecting past to present. A reminder that the creative spark, the steady hands, the deep soul I saw back then is still shining. So here’s to you, Gibby: the kid who sketched with fire and the adult who still shapes the world with quiet brilliance. Your value has never been about the path you’re on. It’s about the person you are. And I’ll be here, cheering you on—every step of the way.

I made this after geting back into the undertale fandom, and realized that it would be cool to see an AU of both Undertale and Gravity Falls together!

I painted this in the wild nature forest of a one-block city park. Maybe it's a deer, maybe it's a: "Pink Panther"

Art was created in acrylics and colored pencils on gessoed illustration board. Size 10 x 12 inches

Years ago, while digging through old journals and sketches, I stumbled across a quick, scribbled drawing of two pears. Beneath it, I'd written a raw and honest note: "Ann is pissed. I think it's because she's uncertain about me, us, life itself. She just ran into my car with the van. She says it was an accident, but she seems happier now—almost like it was cathartic. . . Like sex." At the time, I scribbled this in frustration, feeling a deep disconnect between us. Intimacy had become a confusing and distant concept in our relationship. The pears I'd sketched were rough and scratchy, charged with my chaotic feelings. Looking back, I see how emotions can drive us to strange actions, some intentional, some accidental, often leaving us oddly relieved afterward. Humans are complex, fascinating beings, navigating messy emotions and messy relationships, sometimes colliding intentionally or unintentionally, seeking relief in unexpected ways. Perhaps the pears were my subconscious pun on "pair," reflecting the awkward, confusing way Ann and I were bumping through life together—making messes, but occasionally finding strange humor and genuine catharsis in the chaos. I've learned to smile gently at the rawness of our humanity, appreciating even our scratchy sketches and emotional collisions. They're reminders that life, relationships, and our own hearts are never simple, but they're authentically human. Here's to embracing life's unexpected catharsis and finding humor in our imperfections.