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My Art

Sorted by date added, not necessarily by date created!


c. 2024

My therapist asked me to draw a safe place. To me it'd be someplace remote, seldom visited, beautiful. Cascadia is full of these places. This was largely based on a cove I live next to, where the Hood Canal divides the Kitsap and Olympic peninsulas, the mountains stretching as far as I could see to the north and south. Seldom any boats cross this stretch of the chuck.


c. 2023

I don't know why but I decided to frame a face practice with a book


c. 2023

Faces I see around town


Content Warning: Nudity, blood
c. 2023

She knows if she runs, she will die sooner or later. Cristal turns back, hatchet in hand, to face the inevitable.


c. 2023



c. 2023

Interloper flags of four different Bioregions across North America; Cascadia, Ozark, Alaxsxaq, Borealis. Definitely not every bioregion in North America, but are major ones. I'm not a vexilologist so don't go minging about it. And, I'm not a fan of the "official" designs either; Cascadia is just a JPG of a Doug Fir over an inverted Sierra Leone flag, Appalachia's just looks like some default header from Google Plus.


Content Warning: Body Horror
c. 2023

The mysterious Druid which Cristal encounters various times.

It was a chance excuse to get away from home, again, but to also not have a destination I have to meet. As opposed to hunting, I instead opted to sit under the shade of a madrone, which finally received its full head of leaves. Reijo sat patiently by me, but on occasion nudged me with his nose like he was begging me to do something. So, I snapped off a low hanging branch and chucked it back down the trail, Reijo galloping right after it. Then, the stick twirled through the air, landing directly at my feet. I took a pause for a moment, calculating whether a dog could even throw a stick. I heard Reijo sound off several sharp barks, and immediately got on my feet, rifle aimed down the trail. He wasn’t very far, nor was his quarry. The hooded man. A lot closer than he’s ever been to me. I couldn’t make out his face, or any of his features, but I felt… ease, the built up anger over the past two weeks mellowed out, and I was aware that I could just breathe. Still, I hesitated coming closer, remembering how lost I got when I attempted before. Instead, he slowly stepped toward me. Reijo barked more, but didn’t engage. I felt his anxiety, the unknown coming for me rather than the usual vice versa. When he was an arm’s width away from me, he slowly reached up to pull the hood back from his head. He was an old Chinese man, half of his face warped and scarred with an ancient burn. It took away his left eye, the burn scars erasing any evidence it was ever there. His remaining eye scanned my face. He didn’t speak, didn’t blink, not even a gesture to acknowledge me. Instead he turned off the trail and into the woods. Unlike before, I felt invited to follow him. Where he was taking me, his intentions, his reasoning… I had no clue, but I didn’t feel threatened by him; he wasn’t armed as far as I could tell.


c. 2023

Self portrait. Hi!!! Hiiii!!! :3 Haiiiiii!!!!!!

LINDSEY EL-GHAZZAWY ليندسي الغزاوي

c. 2023

Lindsey El-Ghazzawy, with her VR/AR headgear in front of her Grey-2 quantum computer. She has an ability to interpret machine code as a result of the MAIA-CETO program, allowing her to "communicate" with binary computer systems.

Some Sketches

c. 2023

Some random sketches. Top left to bottom:
1. Some guy with a boonie hat. Initially wanted to draw an AFUN ranger, which turned into an Interloper, which then turned into some mix of the two. Maybe some defector or something.
2. Damien Lewis, rough sketch of him running or doing some action.
3. Damien Lewis, head. Cute lil' journalist man.
4. Some goth chick I saw smoking a cig leaning on the rail.


c. 2023

Adalgard, the Rootwalker. Adalgard was born a year after her older sister, Heledewis. She grew up with an interest in herbology and medicine after her father Potbelly demonstrated the use of the woundwort on a scraped knee as a polutice. When she was 12, after discovering that her youngest sister Raelene was blue-green colorblind in her dominant eye, she attempted to "cure" it with a dose of psilocybin. She's hardly ever seen without a bag of dried herbs or remedies, and the scent of spices follows her everywhere. When building her cabin, she installed a wet sauna for use as both a cleansing area, and a sterile environment for minor surgeries and births. Though she is the shortest sister at 4'8", she is just as capable as the rest of her sisters in what she does for an occupation.


c. 2023

Amaranth, Cristal's mother, looks more haggard in this one which is what I've looked for in her design. This is probably sometime after she reunited with Cristal.


c. 2018?

Ani Glow, moved to Seaoko for university but dropped out to pursue comedy.


c. 2023

Boatman without his hat. Girl on bottom right was going to be Omote, the handloader, but I gave up halfway.


c. 2019

An old friend of mine since elementary school. We kind of grew apart since they moved over a decade ago and we're entirely different people now, but I'm still grateful for them and I wish them the best!


c. 2019.

Violet Semmet, reporter by day, street artist by night. One of Damien's best friends. I really miss designing cyberpunky characters as opposed to Interlopers.


c. 2019.

Damien Lewis, the protagonist of my game in hiatus. He's an investigative journalist for the Seaoko Tribune, who would find a conspiracy that aimed to reignite a war long over. Though the game isn't coming out anytime soon, I am putting him in my novel to show how he got his big break!


c. 2020.

I like to keep her alive on paper.


c. 2018.

Important person in my life. Gone too soon. 1999-2015


c. 2018.

Caleb Laurel, a character from aforementioned game in hiatus. He was going to be a supporting character (or 'Informant') which would allow the player to use drones for certain segments to gather information.


c. 2019.

Sketch from my personal diary. I lost this one after some renovations. I miss it.


c. 2023.

Someone let Jared Leto loose in the house (again) and now I have to chase him out with a broom. It wasn't even my turn to do it.


c. 2023.

Cristal after her second visit to Victoria, which resulted in losing her right ovary. 'Qulstuxw' is a Halkomelem (Hu¬œumí!uμ) word for Hatred.


c. 2023.

Cristal with a different hairstyle, and smiling for once. Probably because she's tired of the wavy bob I keep giving her.


c. 2022.

Concept image of a game idea I had, where airships and other dirigables inhabit Venus in its upper atmosphere, where common gasses can float above its immense pressure. It would play kind of like a more in-depth Sid Meier's Pirates! but your actions with certain factions do have an actual impact on the game world. This image is an expeditionary marine about to board a neighboring vessel.

NASANT m.1895

c. 2021.

Nasant m.1895 revolver, Cristal's sidearm throughout the novel. Though its trigger pull is 20 pounds, its cartridge weak and replacement parts scarce, she doesn't part with it.


c. 2021.

Just a simple sketch of my avatar and how he solely expresses emotion through blank dead eyes


c. 2020.

A scene from my novel:

At this point I was at least 20 miles away from Quinault, walking northward along Highway 101. After passing through Queets, finding nothing of use save for some rope, I had been tired for a while and needed to find a place for respite. That's when I looked up, panting, at the scene before me. The road was blocked, twice, by a fallen Douglas Fir, and by a trailer which had fallen over on its side. A car was beneath the tree, which had driven on the wrong side of the road. Products of The Great Rumble, I imagined. I peered past the several limbs of the dead tree and noticed large writing upon the bed of the truck.


I hadn't realized I was reading the same lines, over and over again, my head wondering what it had meant. Pondering on who wrote it. Thinking about how everything here, the car, the tree, and the semi truck, had come together in a great climax, for them to then lay here for nearly a decade, like rusted monuments for a time, an era, which had ceased in a moment. Then the glyph of Cascadia had caught my eye, which lay above many handprints. Handprints, big and small. Handprints masculine and feminine. Handprints, even from bionics. As often as I have seen signs of decaying humanity lay before my path to Vancouver Island, I have yet to see anything like this. To know that many others had walked the same broken highway I have, seeing the things I have seen. People with their own backgrounds, their own journeys... their own destination. The back of the trailer was propped open by a large tree limb, inside was a barrel chock full of ash and charcoal, no doubt set alight by the many hands belonging to the prints outside. I struck a fire with the striker, rolled out my blanket, and rested against the cold, yet somehow inviting metal from the trailer. Reijo curled up in my lap, acting like a living, breathing blanket which absorbed and radiated his own heat.

He was alive, and so was I.


c. 2020.

The first concept image of an Interloper I've ever drawn, even before Cristal. Stinkeye is a famed bear hunter, but he didn't lose his eye from one; he was hunting a buck during mating season and it lodged its antler into Stinkeye's eye. As revenge, Stinkeye killed the deer and used its tail as his eyepatch, hence his name "Stinkeye". Before that, he was known as "Swampman".


c. 2019.

The Fluffypants Shop, an important store from my game that in indefinite hiatus. This store would be the only place the player could purchase camera film. Mr. Fluffypants and his wife Mrs. Fuzzybutt, a Shiba Inu and Corgi respectively, are both equipped with cybernetic collars which allow them to speak like humans (yes its the collar from UP). I imagined Mr. Fluffypants to sound like the late Gilbert Gottfried. And YES, you can PET the DOG!


c. 2023.

The Old Guard, or six of the original nine Cascadian Rangers who hail from Vancouver Island. They are the supporting characters in my novel.

From top left to bottom right:

  • Heather "Amaranth" Lovelace-Bellamy: Cristal's biological mother, who was forced to adapt into Interloper life to escape the law.
  • Jessie "Anaheim" Keighley-Bright: The blonde goliath of the mountains, mother of five daughters.
  • Greg "Stinkeye" Horton: The only Vancouver Island, and by extension Canadian, native of the Old Guard. Hunts bears, hates deer.
  • Bartholomew Lance "Boatman" Harper: Former captain and FP Rear Admiral during the Second Korean War, ferried a majority of Vancouver Island's inhabitants from Neah Bay to Vancouver Island.
  • Henry "Keeper" Stenton: Master Sergeant in MARSOC during the Second Korean War. Formerly the premier gunsmith of the island.
  • Gideon Heath: Champion of the "Northrange" of Vancouver Island, likes to keep to himself but knows when he's needed and when he needs others.


    c. 2023.

    Cristal Bellamy, the protagonist of my novel. Best described as a blank quilt, with each experience adding onto her tapestry.

    Cristal struggles with insecurity and self-doubt, trying to find her place in Interloper society, questioning her abilities and hindering her confidence. Her emotional vulnerability in times of strife affects her decision-making, leading to poor choices that feed into a feedback loop of failure and self-doubt over it, especially with her degree of bloodlust which can become destructive if mismanaged. The internal conflict between herself and the person her mother wants her to become leads to a difficulty in asserting herself and her own desires. The absolute culture shock between her polite clean upbringing and the rugged brash reality of Cascadia leads to inner turmoil between who she was and who she is now, leading to a sense of imbalance.

    My Photos

    Sorted by date added, not necessarily by date created!


    c. 2019

    The view of Halfmoon Bay on a rainy day. I prefer beaches when they're raining, bonus if they're also rocky. It clears away the annoying beachgoers.

    The service here sucks

    c. 2018

    "I don't think we can eat these flowers..."
    "Nonsense bro, its hummingbird culinary, you just gotta open your mind to it."


    c. 2019

    View from the lighthouse in Westport.


    c. 2020

    Bee on a flower. I think it's a woodsorrel but we usually have a bunch of mountain flowers growing here.


    c. 2020

    A buck and doe sitting across the field. They know me and usually come by to visit to feed on the lichen and ferns.


    c. 2023

    The view from a vista near where I live, on a rather wet and hazy morning. The water helps me think.

    Logging Trail

    c. 2023

    The view from one of the several trails I walk on from time to time. Its kind of scary to walk through, given its the perfect place to hide a body or deal drugs.

    Knife Collection

    c. 2023

    My knife collection. From left to right:

  • Some knife I found in a stump on Hurricane Ridge, no make or model
  • Opinel no.9 in carbon steel; my delicate working knife, starting to form a patina.
  • Kershaw Clash; my EDC knife, keeps and maintains a nice edge
  • Some dinky BSA knife from when I suffered through Boy Scouts. Not any good by my standards, but its a fair backup.
  • Gerber Multitool; Leathermans are overrated and overpriced, fuck you.
  • Terävä Jääkäripuukko 140 in 80CrV2 carbon steel; by far my favourite, it works like a thicker Morakniv. Sometimes I carry it concealed, with the sheathe tucked into my belt. The belt loop on its sheathe is slowly tearing, unfortunately.
  • Gerber Mk II; The only dagger I own, marketed as a 'survival knife' but I know its just an updated Fairbairn Sykes fighting knife, and that's what I hope to never use it for.
  • Buck 110; My late grandfather's camping knife. I use it as a "bag knife" attached to where I can access it on the outside.
  • Random shitposts

    Sorted by date added