I READ RECENTLY in an article by Adam Gopnik (The New Yorker, 3/17/08) that it has been observed that every great adult skill requires sustaining some moment of childhood. All scientists are eternally four years old, wide-eyed and self-centered. Writers, he said, are "forever eight years old, over-aware and indignant." Magicians (the subject of his article), and, I would argue, photographers are eternally twelve years old, having discovered how to do their first sleight of hand trick or make a magic box trick work -- or having used their first camera, that ultimate, magnificent gadget.

Twelve it was for me. Unlike my previous fascinations like building forts in the woods or a chemistry set, the camera was a world of possibility contained in a small gadget. which I could learn to use better and better. And around it hovered the occult magic of the darkroom. At thirteen I entered high school, and used my paper route earnings to buy a small Speed Graphic camera, the Brownie no longer being complicated enough.