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

0

Your Cart is Empty

The Last Light of Kurukshetra, Angkor Wat Temple, Cambodia — 2020

 

A hush had settled across the western gallery as if the stone itself were holding its breath. The last rays of the sun, burnished and low, glanced through the ancient columns and touched the wall with a light that did not fall but rose—from within the sandstone, as though the reliefs remembered the fire of their own making.

Before me: the battle. Chaos chiseled into silence. A galloping horse rears above a tangle of limbs and shields, yet nothing moves. The warriors, caught forever mid-charge or in the arc of their final gesture, seem less like the conquered and the conquerors than the visible dreaming of some deeper current—an eternal conflict beneath time. One figure stands out: a lone soldier, shield raised, neither fleeing nor triumphant. I could not decide if he was about to fall or break through. Perhaps both.

The light was difficult, diffuse yet glowing, with an uncanny green-gold cast, as if filtered through the canopy of centuries. I did not frame or compose so much as listen. The image came not with precision but with surrender. I waited, then made the exposure slowly, letting the long breath of time settle into the film.

Later, in the quiet of the darkroom, I returned not to the facts of what I had seen, but to the feeling—the weight of stone, the ache of myth, the glow that came not from the sun but from something older. I shaped the final print by hand, not in black and white, but in the gold and ash of memory, letting the toning seep into the paper like lichen across old walls. It is not the colour of war, but of what war leaves behind: dust, silence, a question unanswered in light.

 

— L.V.


Also in Library

Multi-towered Angkorian stone temple with long causeway and surrounding galleries in red and black chalk style.
From Mountain to Monastery

2 min read

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.

Read More
Two robed monks walking toward a small temple building with distant stone towers in red and black chalk style.
Why Theravada Could Outlast Stone

2 min read

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.

Read More
Angkorian stone temple with naga-lined causeway and central towers in red and black chalk style.
The End of Sanskrit at Angkor

2 min read

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.

Read More