The Touch That Remains
A breeze moved through the canopy—soft, unhurried. The stone still held warmth, though the sun had already gone.
I stood before a bare wall in the courtyard of Angkor Wat’s second floor—unfinished, flat, waiting. From that silence, two figures had risen. Devatas nearly identical, their shoulders tilted slightly toward one another. Each held a lotus blossom. One reached across to rest her hand upon the other’s shoulder—a gesture so precise, so intimate, I could not tell if it had just occurred or had never ceased.
Their gaze was not outward, but inward. They did not watch. They remembered.
The exposure was long, but not longer than the silence. In the studio, I shaped the print slowly—my own ritual of return. Hand-toning it in gold was not an embellishment, but an act of listening. A way of giving light back to those who had given it away.
They were not made to glow.
They were made to keep.
they were not carved—
they arrived
in the silence the wall had kept
they did not shine
but remembered the sun
that loved them
one touch held both
offering and return
in the same breath
and what they gave
is still
being given
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A concise and impartial dictionary of absence, promises, quarrels, ordinary objects, and the troublesome instability of words.
The City of Service
The temple we inherit is a building from which almost all necessity has been removed. Nothing must be brought for it to continue being what we call a temple. The sanctuary asks nothing of us. Stone is good at this kind of independence.
A living temple was otherwise.
Water had to come in. So did grain, cloth, oil, aromatic substances, fuel. The things required for worship arrived because someone carried them across a threshold.
Houses of Wood, Light, and Smoke
Some of Angkor’s most intimate ruins do not rise above the ground at all. They are postholes, low mounds, hearths and ponds: durable traces of a domestic city built largely from things that decay. To restore that city is to see Angkor not only as stone, but as wood, smoke, water, repair, and people living within calling distance.
$895
Angkor Wat Temple, Angkor, Cambodia — 2020
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
9.5 x 6.8 inches (24.1 x 17.3 cm)
At the threshold where light becomes memory, two devatas emerge from stone—graceful, entwined, and radiant in their stillness. This is not a moment captured, but one consecrated.
Carved high upon the unfinished sandstone of Angkor Wat’s second-level courtyard, the figures appear almost identical—twin sisters or mirrored selves—each lifting a lotus blossom in quiet offering. One reaches across to rest her hand upon the other’s shoulder, their embrace suspended in golden silence. The air was thick with the hush of evening, as if the day itself were bowing.
Lucas Varro waited for the light to find them. Using large-format black-and-white film, he made this image beneath the sun’s last breath. In the studio, the negative was shaped through chiaroscuro and hand-toned in gold—an act of reverence, not effect. Each print is unique, bearing the subtle fire of what the stone once held.
This museum-grade archival pigment print on Hahnemühle Bamboo paper is offered in a strictly Limited Edition of 25 + 2 AP.
No two impressions are alike. Each carries the light that stayed.
Click here to walk deeper into the artist’s journal—where silence remembers the offering.