As a young, naïve and hopeful photographer, I met Levitt in 1981 at her New York apartment. We looked at some of my recent color slides taken on the street in Poughkeepsie and Hudson, New York (I was then a poor if dedicated imitator of her work), watched TV (a PBS medical program on the heart), talked about our cats, and then I became ill from a migraine. (A memorable evening for me, but fortunately not for her!)

I had seen her color work at the Corcoran the year before and in awe, I immediately began to load my camera with color film. Like many young artists, I made the mistake of imitating another's work, taking the easy parts without understanding the hard parts, or why or how they got that way. Of course, following another's path is not very satisfying and I eventually found my own. But Levitt and her work stayed with me; an example of perfect discernment, of rigorous judgment (of the pictures, not the subjects). While I learned to edit by sifting through stacks of postcards searching for the few worth buying, I learned the importance of carefully editing one's own work from Levitt's example; she allowed few images off her leash.

Editing is largely about what is left out, not what is left in; there is always more removed or omitted than we can ever include. Think a moment about what Levitt left out, what we don't see in her photographs. We don't see: politics, her personal life, night life, adult violence, sex, social malaise, drugs, crime; the wealthy, the deeply impoverished; the South, the Midwest, the Great Plains, the West; suburbs, small towns or rural places. She chose carefully in her work and life what she did include: