The Hoof That Called the Evening Down
The medallion was easy to miss. No grandeur, no height. Just a small ring of carved leaves near the base of a corridor wall. And inside it—a deer, mid-step, its flank catching the last breath of the sun.
Everything around it had begun to darken. The vines hung low. The stone smelled of dust and rain. But that circle of light held. Not bright—just enough. The kind of light that feels like memory instead of fire.
I stood with the camera for a long time. Letting the hush arrive. Then, quietly, I exposed the film. I knew the silver would hold it more tenderly than words ever could.
In the studio, I shaped the tones until dusk began to gather again. Gold was added by hand, softly—less an effect, more a remembrance. Something to honour the silence that had come before it.
The deer lifts its hoof
into the last breath of dusk—
no wind,
no sound,
only gold gathering
in the folds
of shadow.
Also in Library
Where a Name Could Not Follow
A boy in the sandstone quarries beneath Phnom Kulen learns the first law of sacred building: not strength, not speed, but attention. Where a Name Could Not Follow imagines the life of an unnamed Angkorean stone-master whose hands helped move mountain into temple — and whose name vanished where the stone endured.
The Apsara Against the Assembly Line
In the darkroom, the print rises slowly from the tray: silver darkening into shadow, stone gathering itself from blankness. At Angkor, the apsaras offer the same lesson. Though repeated in their thousands, each waits to be seen. Against the assembly line of speed and sameness, slowness restores the soul’s signature.
The Wall That Still Holds Them
Two presences endure within a wall that no longer closes seamlessly around them. One withdraws into shadow; the other comes further into the light of legibility. Around them, fracture, erosion, and carved stone become a single field of custody, where grace survives within damage, not beyond it.
$895
Ta Prohm, Temple, Angkor, Cambodia — 2021
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)
A deer, encircled by stone leaves, raises one hoof into light that feels both remembered and newly born. When the Deer Danced the Sun Down captures a moment not of action, but of invocation—a gesture held in silence that seemed to draw dusk from the sky.
At Ta Prohm Temple, as the Cambodian sun vanished behind the jungle canopy, a sandstone medallion shimmered with sudden presence. The deer appeared to glow from within, its curved form receiving light as breath, not surface. The image evokes sacred circularity—motion paused in eternity.
Captured on medium format black-and-white film with long exposure, the photograph was later shaped using classical chiaroscuro techniques to reveal its quiet gravity. Each print is hand-toned in gold, echoing the molten warmth of that sacred dusk.
Printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper, this archival pigment print is signed and numbered in a strictly limited edition of 25 + 2 Artist’s Proofs.
Let it offer stillness—the kind that glows in the corner of your room long after the sun has gone.
Click here to enter the Artist’s Journal and step deeper into the hush behind the light.