The Flame She Carried Within
Even before I saw her, the light changed. It no longer fell from the sky but rose softly from the stone, as if the sandstone itself were remembering. The western gate of Angkor Wat opened in silence. Cicadas turned their chant inward. The last warmth of the day gathered along the walls like the breath of something sacred.
And there she stood.
Crowned in fire, draped in carved adornments, offering a single blossom held as though it had always been in her hand. Not symbolic. Not ornamental. A gesture as real as breath. I lowered the tripod with care. Each movement slowed by reverence, not decision. She did not ask to be captured—only received.
Her stillness carried a heat that was not temperature, but memory.
Weeks later, I shaped the print slowly, the way one shapes smoke. I listened as I worked. The chiaroscuro emerged gently. The gold I added with a brush as fine as whispering. It was not toning. It was return.
She did not shimmer. She remembered.
she does not shimmer—
she waits where the sun once stood,
gold beneath her skin
Also in Library
Hands of the Sculptor — The Craft as Meditation
In the hush of the galleries, the sculptor listens rather than strikes.
Each breath, each measured blow, opens silence a little further.
Unfinished reliefs reveal the moment when mastery becomes meditation—
when patience itself is carved into being,
and the dust that falls at a mason’s feet becomes the residue of prayer.
The Asura Within
At the gates of Angkor Thom, gods and demons share a single serpent.
Across this bridge of struggle the pilgrim learns that the asura is not evil but unfinished — the restless force within each of us still grasping for light.
To cross the naga is to balance passion with compassion, struggle with stillness, shadow with dawn.
Garuda and the Serpent · Flight and Surrender
Between Garuda’s wings and the Nāga’s coils, Angkor breathes its oldest truth: flight and surrender are one motion. In the carvings where sky and water entwine, the pilgrim learns that freedom depends upon gravity, and that stillness itself is a kind of flight.
$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.
