She Stood in Flame, and Did Not Burn
There are places where dusk becomes ceremony. The western gate of Angkor Wat is one of them. In that hour, the stone does not reflect—it releases. And standing in its breath was a devata carved not only in form, but in presence.
She lifted her flower like a prayer still being spoken. Her gaze neither forward nor away, her gesture neither offering nor withholding. She stood in flame and did not burn.
The photograph was composed on large-format black-and-white film as the sun exhaled its last breath across the stone. Each movement of the camera was a slow devotion. The image emerged later through chiaroscuro—shadow and light drawn out with care. The gold, hand-toned in soft layers, was not embellishment. It was reverence made visible.
She Who Remembers the Light marks a threshold within the Spirit of Angkor series. It does not depict history, but presence—revealing the sacred feminine not as symbol, but as witness. She does not perform. She is.
—
She does not shine—she remembers.
This devata at the western gate was not carved for the eye, but for the spirit. Her stillness holds fire. Her offering is breath.
The image was shaped with great patience. Captured on large-format film, exposed in silence, and hand-toned in gold. Each print is a singular gesture—printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper in a strictly limited edition of 25 + 2 Artist’s Proofs.
This is not a record. It is a presence.
Also in Library
From Mountain to Monastery
Angkor Wat survived by learning to change its posture. Built as a summit for gods and kings, it became a place of dwelling for monks and pilgrims. As belief shifted from ascent to practice, stone yielded to routine—and the mountain learned how to remain inhabited.
Why Theravada Could Outlast Stone
Theravada endured by refusing monumentality. It shifted belief from stone to practice, from kings to villages, from permanence to repetition. What it preserved was not form but rhythm—robes, bowls, chants, and lives lived close together—allowing faith to travel when capitals fell and temples emptied.
The End of Sanskrit at Angkor
The final Sanskrit inscription at Angkor does not announce an ending. It simply speaks once more, with elegance and certainty, into a world that had begun to listen differently. Its silence afterward marks not collapse, but a quiet transfer of meaning—from stone and proclamation to practice, breath, and impermanence.
$270
Angkor Wat Temple, Angkor, Cambodia — 2019
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
11.5 x 5.8 inches (29.2 x 14.7 cm)
She rises from the sandstone like a breath returning—crowned in fire, cloaked in stillness, and held in the last light of day. This is not a carving, but a remembrance.
At the western gate of Angkor Wat, where the jungle exhales and shadows lengthen, a devata stands poised. The air hums with cicadas. Light falls not from above, but wells up from the stone itself. Her gesture—one hand raised in offering—feels less like movement than a memory held.
Made on large-format black-and-white film in the hush of evening, the photograph was later shaped using classical chiaroscuro and carefully hand-toned in gold. The process was devotional. The goal: not to capture, but to consecrate.
This signed and numbered print is rendered on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper and offered in a limited edition of 25 + 2 Artist’s Proofs.
To dwell with her is to enter the silence where light still lingers.
Click here to enter the Artist’s Journal and follow the gold her spirit remembers.
