Kevin O'Connell Art

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, that is accompanied by the acidic aroma of conifers. Occasionally, a sweet waft will come to you from some unknown source, and the peat-softened ground muffles a sound, leaving one with a sense of quiet and calm. The green pallet soothes the eyes. You touch a tree that has fallen decades ago, perhaps a giant Sitka four feet in diameter, and it stains your hand. Soot, lichens, fungus, and a variety of microscopic detritivores have left their mark. You catch a glimpse of a rodent that is living in the hulk. A small snake...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, that is accompanied by the acidic aroma of conifers. Occasionally, a sweet waft will come to you from some unknown source, and the peat-softened ground muffles a sound, leaving one with a sense of quiet and calm. The green pallet soothes the eyes. You touch a tree that has fallen decades ago, perhaps a giant Sitka four feet in diameter, and it stains your hand. Soot, lichens, fungus, and a variety of microscopic detritivores have left their mark. You catch a glimpse of a rodent that is living in the hulk. A small snake...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, that is accompanied by the acidic aroma of conifers. Occasionally, a sweet waft will come to you from some unknown source, and the peat-softened ground muffles a sound, leaving one with a sense of quiet and calm. The green pallet soothes the eyes. You touch a tree that has fallen decades ago, perhaps a giant Sitka four feet in diameter, and it stains your hand. Soot, lichens, fungus, and a variety of microscopic detritivores have left their mark. You catch a glimpse of a rodent that is living in the hulk. A small snake...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, that is accompanied by the acidic aroma of conifers. Occasionally, a sweet waft will come to you from some unknown source, and the peat-softened ground muffles a sound, leaving one with a sense of quiet and calm. The green pallet soothes the eyes. You touch a tree that has fallen decades ago, perhaps a giant Sitka four feet in diameter, and it stains your hand. Soot, lichens, fungus, and a variety of microscopic detritivores have left their mark. You catch a glimpse of a rodent that is living in the hulk. A small snake...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...

I find comfort in forests, especially the few remaining old-growth stands of the Pacific Northwest. Life is churning in such places. Death and rebirth create a rich musk of decay, th...