A Silence That Watches Back
It began with the absence of movement.
The storm had passed in the night, and when I stepped onto the jetty, the stones were still slick beneath me—washed clean, each joint luminous with rain. The lake held itself like breath held too long, unwilling to break the hush. I stood in that hush. Not thinking. Not composing. Just listening.
The lions flanking the path had softened through centuries, their once-roaring faces now calm. They no longer seemed to guard. They watched. And beyond them, the sugar palm—unmoved, unadorned, alone. Its fronds motionless in the sky’s still half-light. It didn’t demand reverence. It just stood. And something about that was deeply consoling.
A heron lifted from the far edge of the baray. I watched its flight disappear into cloud without ripple or sound. Even its wings seemed reluctant to disturb the silence.
I didn’t feel like I was photographing a place. I felt like I was entering it. Or being entered by it. I opened the shutter, and time began to drift. It wasn’t the light I exposed for—it was the hush.
Later, in the studio, I shaped the negative as carefully as breath returning after sorrow. Chiaroscuro revealed the depth I had felt more than seen. And the final hand-toning laid a warmth across the silver—not gold, but something remembered. Something held.
Stone lions keep watch—
still water cradles first light,
palms whisper of dawn.
Also in Library
The Crocodile and the Moon Eel: A Tide-Bargain
A crocodile waits in hush where river bends to moonlight. From the silt, a pearl-lit eel rises, whispering a bargain of scale and tide. What is given is never returned whole: hunger meets silence, storm keeps watch, and the river writes its law in breath.
Field Note: Blue Hour at Angkor
The blue hour settles over Angkor like a hush in stone. Naga coils dissolve into shadow, carvings soften into silence, and hunger without teeth endures. A sketch becomes listening. Each fracture is a hymn, each hollow a river. A field note on patience, memory, and the stillness that lingers.
At the River’s Bend
Dusk leans against the bank and the water forgets its hurry. A heron holds one bead of light. In the reeds, someone counts—commas between breaths. The river practises memory; cicadas re-thread a broken necklace. Perhaps art is only this: placing the pause so the note can be heard.
$250
Srah Srang, Angkor, Cambodia — 2024
Limited Edition Archival Pigment Print
Edition
Strictly limited to 25 prints + 2 Artist’s Proofs
Medium
Hand-toned black-and-white archival pigment print on Hahnemühle Bamboo — a museum-grade fine art paper chosen for its quiet tactility and reverent depth, echoing the spirit of the temples.
Signature & Numbering
Each print is individually signed and numbered by the artist on the border (recto)
Certificate of Authenticity
Accompanies every print
Image Size
8 x 8 inches (20.3 x 20.3 cm)
A pale hush lingers above the royal reservoir of Srah Srang. Rain has passed, but its breath still clings to the stones. The lake lies still as lacquered silk, holding light without shimmer. On the cruciform jetty, stone lions lean forward—not as protectors, but as witnesses. One lone palm lifts skyward, offering no judgment, only presence.
Here, stillness is not empty. It is full of memory, of breath, of reverence. The nāga no longer bare their teeth. Their serpent bodies curl like blessings around the void. All motion has been set aside. Even time bows its head.
I stood in this hush for hours. The shutter open, the film receiving not form but atmosphere. I did not seek to capture. I waited, and was offered. Later, I shaped the image in the darkroom, drawing forth chiaroscuro with care, hand-toning each impression to echo the warmth of wet stone after rain.
Printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper and strictly limited to twenty-five numbered prints and two Artist’s Proofs, each impression is signed on the border recto.
Let this image keep vigil in your space, a quiet mirror of stillness and breath.
Click here to step into the Artist’s Journal and walk the still jetty once more.
