Prologue

• Author: Ronald K. Fierstein
• Profession: Lawyer on the team of litigators from the prestigious patent law firm of Fish & Neave
• Pages: 7-8

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PROLOGUE

It’s always about the light. Any photographer will tell you that. It was a

beautiful December late afternoon in the desert town of Santa Fe, New

Mexico, a place renowned for its unique light. The rocky landscape,

faintly dusted with snow, would have been brightly lit in dramatic burnt

orange and rose rays refracted from an afternoon sun sinking in the sky

toward sunset. It is that magical light that illuminates the beauty in any-

thing it reaches. It is the photographer’s best friend and secret weapon.

The little girl was excited as her father snapped away, taking image

after image of her with his spiffy, high-tech camera. The father watched

his daughter with delight and shared her joy. The wonders of light had

enthralled him since his youth. They had already brought him great wealth

and success. He was all of thirty-four.

But the year was 1943, and the “high-tech” camera was a Rolleiflex

box model filled with Kodak roll film.1 His daughter was disappointed

when she learned that it would be weeks before she would be able to see

the pictures her father had taken. “Why can’t I see these pictures right

now? I don’t want to wait.”2

In those days, the film would have to be unloaded from the camera,

taken to a pharmacy, and shipped off to a laboratory to be developed into

negatives. That process would involve a series of baths in various chemi-

cals, all done in the dark at controlled temperatures. Once dry, each neg-

ative would then have a precise amount of light projected through it, the

image being focused onto photographic paper held at just the right distance

so that the image was sharp. That paper, or positive, would next be devel-

oped to bring out the image, washed, and then processed further to stabilize

the print. Finally, after drying, it could be shipped back for the little girl to

see, long after the enchantment of the moment had faded away.

When confronted with an upset child asking silly questions seem-

ingly impossible to answer, most fathers would respond with a comfort-

ing, if exasperated, “Because,” or “That’s just the way it is,” or even “I

don’t know.” But not this father. As a colleague acknowledged many years

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