Before the Door That Breathes
The last hush of night clung to the fig leaves like breath withheld. Rain had moved on, but its presence lingered—in scent, in shadow, in the way water tucked itself into the seams of stone. The forest did not wake so much as deepen.
I approached the doorway slowly. The roots were not wrapped, but woven—fig and spung braided into one living threshold, one memory of ascent and surrender. Stone, too, had softened. Beneath the Kala’s devouring mouth, a lintel held the impression of prayer, half-eclipsed by bark. The shadows inside the door did not recede. They breathed.
I stood without speaking, spine aligned with root, as if waiting for a breath I might share in silence.
roots taste fallen rain
limestone inhales the stormlight—
a doorway exhales
The exposure was slow, but time was already altered. Later, I would guide the negative back into form, each hand-toned contour a return to the hush that held me. What emerged was not the image of a ruin, but the exhale of something that remains alive.
Also in Library
The Weight of Light
In the hush before dawn, light gathers until waiting becomes prayer.
Long exposure teaches surrender — to breathe with time, to let the unseen complete the image.
What remains on film is not possession, but trust made visible.
The Silence Between Temples
Between one breath and the next, the world holds its pulse in silence.
Here, between temples, devotion hums without voice—light becoming memory, memory becoming air.
Step softly into the space where sound has already bowed,
and feel the sacred linger in what remains unspoken.
Hands of the Sculptor — The Craft as Meditation
In the hush of the galleries, the sculptor listens rather than strikes.
Each breath, each measured blow, opens silence a little further.
Unfinished reliefs reveal the moment when mastery becomes meditation—
when patience itself is carved into being,
and the dust that falls at a mason’s feet becomes the residue of prayer.
$250
Ta Prohm, Angkor, Cambodia — 2020
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)
There are doorways that do not open into rooms, but into listening.
At Ta Prohm, before the jungle stirred, I stood before one such portal. Two trees—one strangling, one yielding—had braided themselves into the stone, their roots clinging like hands to a forgotten threshold. Above, the Kala’s mouth devoured time. Below, silence pressed against the dark.
The photograph was made slowly, as breath returned to the forest after rain. I worked with a large-format analogue camera, allowing the long exposure to gather what little light there was. In the studio, I shaped each silver tone by hand, using classical chiaroscuro to echo not just the scene, but the hush I felt inside it.
The final print is an 8 × 8-inch archival pigment print on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper. The edition is strictly limited to 25, with 2 Artist’s Proofs. Each piece is hand-toned, signed, and numbered on border recto, and includes a certificate of authenticity.
Let this image become a threshold of stillness in your space.
Click here to step through the breath of the image into the Artist’s Journal.
Previously titled ‘Strangled Doorway, Ta Prohm Temple, Angkor, Cambodia. 2020,’ this photograph has been renamed to better reflect its place in the series and its spiritual tone. The edition, provenance, and authenticity remain unchanged.
