pr

Did you ever have a page in your sketchbook that was so bad and so embarrassing that you tore it out and chucked it? This was one of those pages that made me cringed every time I came to it. So today I said to myself, "ENOUGH!" and ripped it out of my moleskine. But something wouldn't let me throw it in the can. Now, I'm not one of those artists that can't bring himself to throw away any of his stuff because each and every piece, good or bad holds some kind of sentimentality or sense of importance. This particular page was a result of a crappy angst filled day and stuff poured out of me. For some reason, it felt like I was throwing away some piece of my soul. There were parts that were overworked and others that were painfully too personal. So I decided to cut it up and put it back together in no particular order, however it seemed best. As I was pasting the pieces down it occurred to me that this had a comic book feel so I scanned the final and added the black borders in photoshop which I really dug. I like that it is cryptic and jumbled up like my brain can so often be. This reminded me of the awesome @johnhendrix who said something in his book, Drawing Is Magic that stuck with me. He said, "Don't worry about doing anything wrong. If you're hoping your sketchbook turns into a glossy display of only your best drawings, you are not carrying a sketchbook, you are carrying a portfolio." In other words, explore, take chances, loosen up and have fun. Try your best to go at it like an uninhibited child. In so doing, you will stretch as an artist by avoiding repetition and predictability. We all know how to do what we already know. To sum up, I created a bad page, and whether or not I was able to fix it, it expanded me. So, follow your pencil, pen, or whatever and let them take you to places you never imagined when you started. Then, maybe you will end up staring happily at the final and with childlike wonder, say, "man, where did that come from?"

8.5"x11" Screen print on Speckletone Madero Beach 140# paper. Limited run of 55. Prints will be protected and shipped flat.

Lunchtime doodle

Model Portrait Color Art by Oz Galeano Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arte_ozgaleano/ Comissions: https://ko-fi.com/c/775fa10e7d 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

whatman, markers, 32x31 cm, 2023

Trying a different style! A bit messy because I thought the orange ink was waterproof... but it's not :(

Bird Illustration by Oz Galeano Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/arte_ozgaleano/ Buy your custom Portrait: https://www.fiverr.com/s/6WzyVL Donations: https://www.paypal.com/paypalme/ozgaleano Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@OzGaleano/videos 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

THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN WITH FIVE COWS From Favorite Folktales from Around the World by Jane Yolen. One morning a little old woman got up and went to the field containing her five cows. She took from the earth a herb with five sprouts and, without breaking either root or branch, carried it home and wrapped it in a blanket and placed it on her pillow. Then she went out again and sat down to milk her cows. Suddenly she heard tambourine bells jingle and scissors fall, on account of which noise she upset the milk. Having run home and looked, she found that the plant was uninjured. Again she issued forth to milk the cows, and again thought she heard the tambourine bells jingle and scissors fall, and once more she spilled her milk. https://www.instagram.com/p/CnnCvkZpxW0/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link

Coloured Pencils

This is a picture of the lady at the cash register who bags produce at the produce store. She let me take her picture and I painted from it. I gave the picture to her but she wishes it had been done before she gained weight. : (

I printed my black and white zentangle drawing on marker paper and colored it with alcohol markers. At first it was a bit to garish with too much contrast, so I painted a warm grey over the whole piece. That gave me what I was looking for. Of course, THEN I completely undermined that with making a bunch of wild colored ones (two shown here) by playing with them in Photoshop. I shall be using this (along with my Zentangle koi posted la while back) for printing blank cards that we sell for charitable (mostly foodbanks) organizations.

Been working on a drawing of my cat recently so decided to layer in my favourite colour for this prompt… orange.

Digital illustration - Three friends travel to a picnic on a rainy day

DAY OF THE DEAD SKI MASK #dayofthedead #diadelosmuertos #skimask #nails #longnails #drawing #sketch #sketching #blackandwhite #grey #shading #art #artist # smoke #smoking #eyes #makeup #lips #biglips #pencil #piercings #cross #freckles #beauty #face #profile #look #aesthetic #sketchbook

Watercolor and India ink on cold press cotton paper.

Saw a similar drawing on Pinterest and decided to put my micron pens to use

It's crazy to think that 6 years have already flown by since I first moved onto the Xcel gymnastics team, let alone the fact that I've spent 15 years of my life as a gymnast. Tomorrow, August 6th, 2021, marks my last day as a gymnast on the team since I'm officially a college student. I've genuinely been dreading this day, but it's not the ending I expected...in an oddly good way. I know no one expected to spend the past year in a pandemic, and I definitely didn't think gym would shift so much in the following months, but here we are. Gymnastics has taught me more than I ever imagined it could, and my coaches (especially one of them) have become two of the people I'm closest with, words can't describe how grateful I am for everything. This 'ending' doesn't feel like an end, more so a closing to this chapter. Honestly, my love for the sport has only grown, and it feels like I'm finally figuring it all out. So, although my final practice as a team member is tomorrow, my journey is not over yet. "Goodbyes are the hardest part, and this ending has been something I’ve been dreading, although I know it’s time to let go. I’d like to say this isn’t a permanent goodbye to you or the sport, it’s more of a natural conclusion. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you’ve done for me and managed to teach me in this short amount of time, I couldn’t have asked for anyone, or anything, better. Thank you most of all for helping me achieve my dreams and for helping me get to a point in which I can say I’m proud of my journey. All that’s left to say is I care about you, I love you, and take care."

Hammer Horror and Highgate Cemetery – two of my favourite things, thus this . . .

I don’t know if we are supposed to do coloring sheet, watercolor books etc. But this is one I did a long time ago that I am very proud of!

So many dots.... this project was done for a class.

Take time to enjoy the beautiful things around us

eye wide open

Getting into drawing more complicated things like glass, lots of fun stylising

11” x 15” Original ink and watercolor illustration on Arches 140# hotpress watercolor paper. Signed by the artist. Unframed.

Where do I begin with this one? This is a drawing of my dad and I; the picture was taken back in 2006, a happier time, I suppose. I don't commonly think about my dad, I don't necessarily think about how much I miss him or how I wish I could see him again, so it was odd for me to sit and look through old photos. I don't really know my dad; I do, but I don't. My dad was physically part of my life for 10 years, the second half of those were not the best. Mental illness, self medicating for years, debt, heroin, arguments, threats, uncertainty. I feel like I remember the negative more because I was older, my parents couldn't hide it from me like they used to. At the same time, when he was sober and stable, life was good. Life was great, things felt complete. So here I am, 6 years since he died. I don't want to say his image is fading, but I know less of who he was than I did before. I see the good from some (the ones who praise him, who act like he was a saint), and I see the bad from others (the one who felt the pain). I suppose I no longer see my view, my memories aren't there anymore. I don't necessarily feel sad, the anger has faded, and I can't say I'm happy. Maybe I'll figure it out one day, but, for now, it is what it is.

I'll be honest, this prompt stumped me a little bit, I wasn't sure where to go with it. Here's my take on it, reflecting the 50s and 60s vibrant music scene and the Cold War shadowing it.

So this painting began as a simple project and ended up for sale at a coffee shop. I found out recently it actually sold, making it the first official painting I've sold.

I've spent recent lockdown days watching far too many Youtube videos about attachment styles and honestly it makes a lot of sense. Here is a little message for my anxious preoccupied self

A watercolor interpretation of a teenager waiting for her life to "start."