Beneath the Storm, the Gaze Remains
“The watcher does not ask, only remembers.”
The ground was still wet with the last hush of rain. I moved through the half-light of Banteay Kdei, the temple barely breathing beneath its own weight. Ahead, a face emerged from the broken western gate—not whole, not lost, but listening.
I stood with the camera as a monk might kneel—offering presence, not action. Around us, vines wrote their silent sutras. Lichen shimmered faintly on stone as if touched by distant thunder. And the mist, that sacred intermediary between worlds, held the ruin like breath between prayers.
I did not speak. The shutter would open when it was time.
ruined faces breathe
dawn-storm gathers stone and hush
centuries hold watch
When I returned to the studio, I shaped the image not to reveal, but to remember. Each print—hand-toned, quiet—carries that same early morning breath.
More from the Library
The Leaf and the Pencil
A leaf holds my attention. Then I remember that I can draw. The pencil reveals things I had never noticed, but introduces its own demands: proportion, shading, the desire to make something beautiful. When I try to describe the encounter, language presents another difficulty. An essay about the uncertain distance between looking at something, understanding it, and being present with it.
The Work We Return To
We have become very good at measuring persistence, and less good at asking what deserves it.
A musician begins the same passage again. A writer returns to an unfinished sentence. Someone stands before a familiar face carved in stone, with nothing new to photograph.
What brings us back when enthusiasm has gone? And how do we distinguish devotion from the demands that quietly consume the rest of our lives?
Under the Gallery
Rain, a carved hand, and the small movements of lives separated by centuries. A new literary piece from The Vow.
$895
Banteay Kdei Temple, Angkor, Cambodia — 2020
Limited Edition Archival Pigment Print
Edition
Strictly limited to 7 prints + 2 Artist’s Proofs
Edition Number
This listing is for the first numbered print from the Large Collector Edition: 1/7
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
28 x 28 inches (71.1 x 71.1 cm)
Storm-heavy dawn cloaks the western gate of Banteay Kdei, where a fractured guardian face rises from a broken tower—its gaze turned not outward, but inward. Light moves across the ruin like breath through a reed, quiet and shaping. Moss clings to cracked lips. Vines trace their own soft sutras.
The silence is not absence—it is memory. A stillness that bears witness to centuries of devotion and decay. In this hush, the ruin becomes a kind of offering, neither whole nor lost, but entirely present.
I stood before it with the lens steady and my breath slower than the wind. The shutter opened long enough for storm and mist to thread their weight into the emulsion. Later, in the studio, I shaped the image with chiaroscuro, deepening shadows to reveal light’s edge. Each print is hand-toned—its warmth born not of color, but of reverence.
This limited edition of twenty-five archival pigment prints (with two Artist’s Proofs) is printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper. The tactile quiet of the paper holds the image like an echo holds sound. Each print is signed and numbered on the border recto, accompanied by a Certificate of Authenticity.
Let this sentinel find its stillness within your own sacred threshold.
Previously titled ‘Face-Tower Ruin, Banteay Kdei 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.