I don’t sketch to plan anything.
I sketch to hold on to the feeling. To remember what it means to be real.

The pinned sketches on the wall — they’re not for show.
They’re just my movements. My breathing. Answers that appeared before any questions.

Some of them grow into full series.
But even the ones that stay behind — they’re never lost.
They remain part of it.
An archive. A living memory of the process.

For me, it matters to see where things began.
What felt honest from the start.

These forms don’t have conclusions.
They’re not polished. Not worked out.
And that’s their strength.

I don’t push myself toward results.
I just watch what appears — and trust it.

Every line carries something deeper.
A rhythm etched from ancient, eternal patterns.
Not for effect — but as a way of being.

Osinska isn’t a signature on the wall.
It’s a state I enter when I work.
Simple. And real.

— O.O.