Stone Waits Before Light
It had rained in the night. Not heavily—just enough for the stone to exhale. The corridors of Angkor Wat were slick, and silence thickened in the air like the scent of wet lichen. I ascended slowly toward the heart of the temple, the third tier, where gods once turned inward and kings sought communion in breathless stillness.
She emerged before me—not from light, but from the absence of it. A devata, carved yet conscious, cloaked in darkness so deep it felt ancestral. Her face bore the touch of centuries. Her lotus hand rested not in display, but in repose. Her eyes held not presence, but patience.
I stood without movement. No adjustment. No lens. The moment did not need me—it was already complete.
Only when breath returned to me did I reach for the shutter. The exposure lasted minutes, but it could have been years. She did not change. I changed.
Later, in the quiet of my studio, I would coax the negative into form—chiaroscuro shaping her shadow, hand-toning her presence into warmth. But the image was never made there. It was received here.
lotus in her hand—
light hesitates on her cheek,
stone remembers breath
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.
$260
Angkor Wat Temple, Angkor, Cambodia — 2020
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
10.75 x 6.2 inches (27.3 x 15.7 cm)
She waits in the silence of the sanctum, where time has stilled and stone has begun to breathe. Before the sun could reach her, before even the birdsong stirred, she stood in shadow—soft-lipped, bare-shouldered, crowned in stillness.
This devata, carved high into the third tier of Angkor Wat, reveals not only the beauty of divine form, but the sacred patience of centuries. Smoothed by reverent touch and wrapped in the hush of dawn, her presence transcends ornament. She is not a relic—she is remembrance.
The photograph was taken on large-format black-and-white film using long exposure in near darkness. It was shaped using classical chiaroscuro techniques and hand-toned by the artist to honor the emotional atmosphere of the moment. The result is a print of deep dimensionality and reverent quiet.
Each signed and numbered print is rendered on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper, in a strictly limited edition of 25 + 2 Artist’s Proofs.
She does not ask to be seen—she waits to be welcomed into silence.
To step further into the breath behind this moment, click here to explore the Artist’s Journal.
