The former Khmer Rouge prison stands as a memorial to the indescribably tragic events that took place on this site, and throughout Cambodia, in the late 1970’s. After thirty years, the walls are crumbling. Flaking layers of plaster and paint give way to encroaching damp and oppressive heat. Surfaces seep with the beauty and inexorable touch of natural elements, fading the stencilled numerals and text, healing the symbolic scars of human brutality. In the haunting black and white photographs, names are replaced with numbers. On the walls that bore witness, the numbers grow faint and the voices fall silent. The paintings of this series attempt to capture something of the contrast between the injustice and brutality of the Khmer Rouge rule and the inevitable regeneration of nature. Each number represents a lost name, each line of text a rule demanding mute compliance. The images are the distillation of a complex experience which seeks not to find any particular answer or pose any particular question, but rather to provide an acknowledgement. An acknowledgement of Tuol Sleng as a place. An acknowledgement of prisoner 55 and all the nameless numbers whose identities and lives were stolen in the dark shadows of Tuol Sleng’s walls.