When Light Begins to Listen
The stillness before names were born.
The air was thick with breath the earth had not yet released. Mist rose in slow exhalations from the moat, folding over the guardian stones with the gravity of prayer. I did not arrive to make a photograph. I came to keep vigil.
Before me, the Deva leaned—not toward threat, but toward silence. His body, softened by centuries of rain and jungle hush, bore the offerings of time: lichen constellations across his chest, a hollow in his cheek where once there had been form. And though his arms had been worn by weather, they still held their shape—cradling the naga Vasuki in a gesture both intimate and enduring.
I waited. No thought, no reason. Just stillness. And then a shimmer—barely a suggestion of light touched his face, and for one breath, the mist paused. I exposed the film, not to capture him, but to accompany what had already become eternal.
Dawn held in still breath—
lichen listens to the light
stone leaning inward.
Also in Library
Before the Shutter Falls
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.
Those Who Keep the Way Open — On the Quiet Guardians of Angkor’s Thresholds
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.
Multiplicity and Mercy — The Face Towers of Jayavarman VII
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.
$250
Preah Khan Temple, 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)
The morning opens like a held breath over Preah Khan, mist unraveling across the moat until stone and water share the same hush. A guardian Deva—scarred by centuries yet unbowed—leans toward the unseen, his remaining arms still gently encircling the naga Vasuki, his silence deeper than the water below.
In that pale interval before birdsong, Lucas Varro stood motionless, feeling the statue’s weathered poise reflect the stillness within his own chest. The lens became less an instrument than a listening ear, attending to the syllables of light as they brushed lichen-flecked skin.
Captured on medium-format analogue black-and-white film with a long exposure that welcomed the drifting vapor, the negative journeyed home to the darkroom. There, classical chiaroscuro guided shadows into dimension, and careful hand-toning breathed warmth into silver so the final print might pulse with the same quiet awe that stirred beside the moat.
Printed as a museum-grade archival pigment work on sustainable Hahnemühle Bamboo paper and restricted to twenty-five numbered prints with two Artist’s Proofs, each sheet embodies a vow of presence and rarity.
Welcome this vigil of quiet stone.
Click here to follow the misted path into the Artist’s Journal.
