The Roofless Shrine That Holds the Sun
There is no ceiling left above the inner chamber, only a lace of light through jungle leaves and slow-moving birds. The tower stands open to the elements, but Lakshmi remains: upright, luminous, whole.
Her four arms extend like quiet rivers: two bearing cosmic emblems, two resting in stillness. The disc and trident shimmer faintly where sunlight touches. I don’t read symbolism here—I feel equilibrium. A hush between inhale and exhale.
I rest my palm on the weathered brick beside the camera, letting its warmth sink into me. The exposure lasts nearly a minute. During that time, I become less photographer than listener, waiting not for an image, but for an offering.
The sun leaves one word
on the tongue of brick, and Lakshmi
spells it slowly in light.A moth circles what remains.
Two kneeling attendants keep still—
guardians of an embered hush.Somewhere, film cools to quiet.
Somewhere, the print waits
to relearn that word in gold.
In the darkroom, the memory returns slowly: not the surface, but the breath beneath it. I work with chiaroscuro, not to recreate the light, but to preserve the silence that came with it. The silence she still holds.
Also in Library
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At first light in Banteay Kdei, a devata draws the eye into stillness. Through sanguine chalk, black shadow, and repeated returns to the page, sketch and prose slowly deepen into a single act of devotion—until the words, too, learn how to remain.
The Spark and the Weight of Being Human
At some point in our past, a human asked the first question—and self-awareness was born. Yet the same consciousness that gave us power also confronts us with our limits. This essay explores the paradox of being human: the spark of understanding and the weight of knowing.
The Pact of the Uncounted Grain
A village does not starve only when rice runs out. It begins to thin when everything is counted, explained, and held too tightly. The Pact of the Uncounted Grain remembers an older law: that once each season, abundance must pass through human hands without measure, or the world begins, quietly, to lose its meaning.
$250
Kravan 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
8 x 8 inches (20.3 x 20.3 cm)
A final breath of sun threads through the broken roof of Prasat Kravan and brushes Lakshmi into living gold. She emerges from the brick wall—not only as the goddess of wealth and beauty, but as the supreme Shakti, consort of Vishnu, and one third of the sacred Tridevi. Her arms open into blessing, her presence woven into the silence like a lamp still lit.
The chamber stills. The air holds centuries of incense, murmured prayers, and vanished flame. In that hush, I recognize not just sculpture but presence—offered, intact. I open the lens and let the moment settle into silver.
Captured on large-format black-and-white film, the image was later shaped through chiaroscuro and delicate hand-toning to restore the glow that dusk had granted. Printed on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper, each print holds the warmth of that shrine, lovingly preserved. The edition is limited to twenty-five numbered impressions with two Artist’s Proofs.
Let this quiet ember of divine Shakti dwell as a radiant threshold in your space.
Click here to step into the Artist’s Journal and trace the path of her golden breath.
Previously titled ‘Lakshmi, Study 2, Kravan Temple, Angkor, Cambodia. 2020,’ this photograph has been renamed to better reflect its place in the series and its spiritual tone. The edition, provenance, and authenticity remain unchanged.
