Complimentary worldwide shipping on orders over $400 · No import tariffs for most countries

0

Your Cart is Empty

Artist’s Field Journal

Shadow and Stone
Ta Prohm Temple, Angkor – Spirit of Angkor Series
Black-and-white film, hand-toned archival pigment print

The shadows came first—cool, vast, and breathing.  Before even the first light of dawn crept in through the broken lintels, they were already there: waiting.  They gathered like memory along the corridor walls, veiling the stone in silence, folding time into texture.

I stepped softly into the gallery as one might step into a dream half-remembered.  Each pillar stood like a monk in meditation, cloaked in shadow, carved with time.  Light arrived slowly—tentatively—touching the edges of stone, revealing not form, but feeling.

This is where the visible gives way to the invisible.  Where shadow does not obscure, but reveals—through absence, through hush.  Photographing here is not about seeing more, but seeing less… and in that less, discovering what endures.

The exposure was long, as was the stillness I kept.  The lens gathered shadow like water into a vessel, and only then, when stone had revealed its inner hush, did light begin to speak.

 

shadow enters first
stone listens without answer—
stillness opening


Also in Library

Stone That Remembers the Sky
Stone That Remembers the Sky

1 min read

This poem listens to Angkor not as ruin, but as grammar—where moss, shadow, and proportion carry devotion forward without spectacle. What endures here is not glory, but measure: a way of standing that no longer needs witnesses.

Read More
Rice-Ghost and the Seven Drums
Rice-Ghost and the Seven Drums

3 min read

At harvest, the danger is not hunger but forgetting how to listen.
This folklore retelling speaks of drums struck for silence, of grain taken without gratitude, and of a narrow figure who does not punish—only waits. A tale of pacts made not with spirits, but with attention itself.

Read More
Sepia-toned banner illustration of a jungle-choked ancient stone doorway, its entrance wrapped by a massive naga-like serpent and tangled roots, leading into deep shadow and mist.
Naga Vow

2 min read

A lost city sleeps in the jungle, its thresholds carved with serpents — not ornament, but law. This vow-poem enters love as sacred hunger: desire as guardianship, devotion as possession, the body speaking without language. A liturgy of heat, roots, rain, and the terrible tenderness of being claimed.

Read More