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

0

Your Cart is Empty

The air was holding its breath.

At the western gate of Angkor Wat, the last gold of day lingered without urgency, pooling at the edge of stone. Above me, high in the façade, she stood—unmoved, unbroken. A devata not defined by gesture or adornment, but by presence. Not watching. Not waiting. Simply there.

She received nothing. It was she who gave. Her silence was the kind that outlives centuries. Her gaze did not invite—it endured.

I placed the tripod slowly, knowing I would not take this image. I would wait for it to arrive.

What the lens received that evening was not light, but memory. What passed through the film was not exposure, but recognition. In the studio, I did not tone for effect. I offered gold as one offers breath—to return what had once touched her face.

Each impression I finish carries the hush of that hour. No two are alike, and yet each one remembers the same silence.

stone warmed by the dusk—
a light no longer visible
lives behind the gaze


Also in Library

Before the Shutter Falls
Before the Shutter Falls

3 min read

Before the shutter falls, fear sharpens and doubt measures the cost of waiting. In the quiet hours before dawn, the act of not-yet-beginning becomes a discipline of attention. This essay reflects on patience, restraint, and the quiet mercy that arrives when outcome loosens its hold.

Read More
A red-and-black chalk sketch of an Angkor terrace at dawn: a broom leaning on a square column, a water bowl, a folded cloth, and a freshly swept stone path.
Those Who Keep the Way Open — On the Quiet Guardians of Angkor’s Thresholds

3 min read

Quiet gestures shape the way into Angkor — a swept stone, a refilled bowl, a hand steadying a guardian lion. This essay reflects on the unseen custodians whose daily care keeps the thresholds open, revealing how sacredness endures not through stone alone, but through those who tend its meaning.

Read More
A red and black chalk study of a Bayon face tower in soft morning light, shown in three-quarter profile with calm, lowered eyelids.
Multiplicity and Mercy — The Face Towers of Jayavarman VII

5 min read

A new vision of kingship rises at the Bayon: serene faces turned to every horizon, shaping a world where authority is expressed as care. Moving through the terraces, one enters a field of steady, compassionate presence — a landscape where stone, light, and time teach through quiet attention.

Read More