Presence Beyond Time: A Sacred Axis of Seeing
At the threshold of Angkor Wat, a god waits without speaking. Eight arms extend from a body cloaked in jasmine and sequined saffron. Known as Ta Reach—the King of the Ancestors—he stands not as relic, but as presence. To encounter Him is to feel a hush enter the chest. To photograph Him is to listen more than to frame.
Lucas Varro arrived before dawn. The corridor smelled of sandalwood and time. Pilgrims moved like breath. When the hush within the gopura and the hush within the artist aligned, the shutter opened for a single long exposure—medium format black-and-white film receiving what words cannot hold. In the studio, light and shadow were shaped through classical chiaroscuro and hours of hand-toning until presence returned to the print.
Here, Vishnu does not dominate—He dwells. His smile, grave yet human, holds both creation and dissolution in balance. This is Cambodia’s soul: ancient, wounded, luminous. Within the Spirit of Angkor series, Presence Beyond Time stands as a sacred axis—an image through which all others quietly orbit.
The edition is limited to 25, with 2 Artist’s Proofs reserved. Each print is signed, numbered, hand-toned, and printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper—chosen for its softness, sustainability, and reverent tactility. Included are a Certificate of Authenticity and Collector’s Print Folio Statement.
To live with this work is to welcome a presence—not loud, but unyielding. A gaze that remains.
Also in My Journal
Stillness in the Shape of Shelter
A rain-streaked Buddha sits beneath the coiled naga Muchilinda, not to resist the world, but to hold stillness within it. This meditation reveals a print shaped by breath, not description.
The Shelter That Remains
Time gathers around the Buddha as breath, not burden. In this haibun, the artist offers a moment that does not explain itself—it simply remains, unmoving beneath the shelter of silence.
What Light Remembers
Light rests on the Buddha’s chest without revealing him. In this moment of reverent waiting, the image forms as presence—not picture. The serpent shelters, the stone remembers, and the poem listens.
