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

0

Your Cart is Empty

In the hush of the western gallery, battle yields to breath, and light becomes a prayer pressed into stone.
A lone warrior stands—neither fleeing nor triumphant—beneath a glow that speaks not of war, but of remembrance.

Carved across nearly fifty meters of sandstone, the Battle of Kurukshetra unfolds in waves of chariots and warriors—a crescendo of divine conflict drawn from the Mahabharata.  Yet here, in this image, the tumult dissolves.  Only one figure remains.  Shield lifted, body stilled, he hovers between resistance and surrender.  His gesture is not action, but pause—not conquest, but contemplation.  The myth falls quiet, and story becomes presence.

The photograph was made slowly.  Lucas Varro entered the sacred corridor with a large format analogue camera, alone in the silence of a world suspended.  He waited as the fading sun, filtered through the jungle canopy, brushed the walls with a strange green-gold glow.  He did not seek to compose, but to receive.  When the moment opened, he exposed the film in one long breath of reverence.

In the solitude of the studio, the ritual continued.  Chiaroscuro shaped the negative like shadow carved into bone—guiding the eye through quiet rather than contrast.  Hand-toning followed, not for ornament but remembrance.  Layer by layer, washes of gold and ash were coaxed into the print until it held the atmosphere of that hour: something not seen, but felt.  The result is not a reproduction, but a return.  A devotional artefact shaped by the same silence that once held the shield aloft.

Created as part of the Spirit of Angkor series, this photograph is not a record of myth—it is its echo.  For the spiritually attuned collector, it offers not a story to behold, but a space to enter.  A still point.  A breath suspended in stone.  A light that does not strike, but listens.

Each print is crafted on museum-grade Hahnemühle Bamboo paper, known for its soft tactility and tonal richness.  The edition is strictly limited to 25, with 2 Artist’s Proofs, each one hand-toned, signed, and numbered.  Accompanied by the artist’s Field Journal, poems, and curatorial texts, the work becomes a place to return to—again and again—where the fever of myth gives way to the stillness that endures.


Also in Library

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
Red and black chalk study of a Bayon face dissolving into shadow and space, evoking quiet multiplicity and inward stillness.
Stone That Dreams

4 min read

Bayon wakes like a mind emerging from shadow. Its many faces shift with light and breath, teaching that perception—and the self—is never singular. In walking this forest of towers, the pilgrim discovers a quiet multiplicity within, held together by a calm that feels both ancient and newly understood.

Read More
Red-and-black chalk study of a camera before temple wall, dawn light and butterfly trace suggesting stillness.
The Still Eye — Craft, Meditation, and the Listening Camera

4 min read

In the darkroom, silver begins to breathe—and a morning at Bayon returns. The essay moves from tray to temple and back, tightening its centre around a single vow: consent, not capture. A butterfly’s tremor, a lintel at dawn, a print clearing in water. Craft becomes meditation; the camera, a quiet bowl for light.

Read More