The Lake Does Not Ask to Be Seen
The stones beneath me were cold from rain, but not unwelcoming. I had walked the length of the jetty slowly, as if each step might speak too loudly. But nothing spoke. Not the trees. Not the birds. Even the mist hung in stillness, as though it too were listening.
The nāga balustrades curled softly at the edge of vision—no longer fierce, only present. The lions, worn smooth by time and water, leaned toward the lake like monks bowing into prayer.
I placed the tripod low and stepped back. Not to frame a shot. But to let the scene open itself.
What unfolded was not a composition. It was a waiting. And within that waiting, something timeless pressed inward.
The shutter opened. Hours passed.
In the darkroom later, the negative seemed to emerge like a memory I hadn’t lived, only carried. And in the slow shaping of light and tone, the stillness returned. Not captured—received.
The lake does not ask
to be seen—only received.Lions lean
into silence
as if remembering
the name of wind.A palm
rises
without declaring anything.And time—
time bows
without footsteps.
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.
$250
Srah Srang, Angkor, Cambodia — 2024
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
8 x 8 inches (20.3 x 20.3 cm)
A pale hush lingers above the royal reservoir of Srah Srang. Rain has passed, but its breath still clings to the stones. The lake lies still as lacquered silk, holding light without shimmer. On the cruciform jetty, stone lions lean forward—not as protectors, but as witnesses. One lone palm lifts skyward, offering no judgment, only presence.
Here, stillness is not empty. It is full of memory, of breath, of reverence. The nāga no longer bare their teeth. Their serpent bodies curl like blessings around the void. All motion has been set aside. Even time bows its head.
I stood in this hush for hours. The shutter open, the film receiving not form but atmosphere. I did not seek to capture. I waited, and was offered. Later, I shaped the image in the darkroom, drawing forth chiaroscuro with care, hand-toning each impression to echo the warmth of wet stone after rain.
Printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper and strictly limited to twenty-five numbered prints and two Artist’s Proofs, each impression is signed on the border recto.
Let this image keep vigil in your space, a quiet mirror of stillness and breath.
Click here to step into the Artist’s Journal and walk the still jetty once more.
