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 Library
Multiplicity and Mercy — The Face Towers of Jayavarman VII
A new vision of kingship rises at the Bayon: serene faces turned to every horizon, shaping a world where authority is expressed as care. Moving through the terraces, one enters a field of steady, compassionate presence — a landscape where stone, light, and time teach through quiet attention.
Stone That Dreams
Bayon wakes like a mind emerging from shadow. Its many faces shift with light and breath, teaching that perception—and the self—is never singular. In walking this forest of towers, the pilgrim discovers a quiet multiplicity within, held together by a calm that feels both ancient and newly understood.
The Still Eye — Craft, Meditation, and the Listening Camera
In the darkroom, silver begins to breathe—and a morning at Bayon returns. The essay moves from tray to temple and back, tightening its centre around a single vow: consent, not capture. A butterfly’s tremor, a lintel at dawn, a print clearing in water. Craft becomes meditation; the camera, a quiet bowl for light.
