Still Water, Listening Light
Rain-sweet air clings to the stone causeway; every leaf gleams with last night’s bloom. At the pond, mirrored darkness cups the sky’s first tremor. I lean close, sensing how stillness thickens once observation grows reverent. Long exposure is less decision than devotion: a willingness to let time speak its full sentence.
In studio solitude, chiaroscuro becomes continuation rather than correction. Shadows open like doors to deeper rooms; highlights breathe out of the paper’s warm bamboo grain. What was received at the pond is offered forward—light held in trust, then released.
Light steps barefoot
onto the broad back of water,
gathering centuries of hush
in a single cupped palm.Clouds drift like unvoiced psalms;
five towers ascend and descend
within the same held breath.Somewhere between wing-beat and prayer
the horizon loosens its name—
time slipping, shutter-slow,
into an older word for awe.Whatever remains of us here
is only stillness listening
after seeing—
a filament of reflection
trembling,
unbroken.
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
Angkor Wat 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)
Dawn enters on a breath so soft it barely stirs the palms. Over the lotus pond, the five towers of Angkor Wat rise not in stone, but in reflection—sky doubling back into water, memory leaning toward form.
The hush is complete. Wind holds its voice. Light kneels. In this early hour, Lucas Varro stood unseen, lens poised at the water’s edge. Reverence guided the exposure—a slow inhalation of the moment as the towers drifted into mirrored stillness.
Captured on 8×10 black-and-white film, the image was later shaped in the darkroom through classical chiaroscuro and hand-toned with care. Shadow and light were coaxed gently forward, honoring the atmosphere of that silent hour.
Each impression is a museum-grade archival pigment print on sustainable Hahnemühle Bamboo, limited to 25 prints with 2 Artist’s Proofs, signed and numbered on the border recto.
Let this reflection become the still water of your interior shrine.
To step softly into the hush of mirrored dawn, click here and enter the Artist’s Journal.
Previously titled ‘Dawn Reflection, Angkor Wat Temple, 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.