Lewis in Wonderland.

"Dreaming in Pictures: The Photography of Lewis Carroll" at International Center of Photography, 1133 6th Ave. (43rd St.), 212-857-0000.

At the ICP's new exhibition, "Dreaming in Pictures," the walls are lined with 72 eye-level b&w photos from the mid-1800s, small enough to make you step forward and peer at them as though through little windows. There is something voyeuristic about this. Are you looking into someone's window unannounced? Or has someone left the Victorian shutters open, inviting you in for a peek at another era?

The photography of Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, more widely known as Lewis Carroll, is not for the indecisive. Much controversy has arisen around this less-well-publicized pastime. (His fame being rooted, of course, in his books about a certain little girl: Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass.)

The photos in the exhibit are almost entirely of children?and mostly of girls. They range from portraits to dress-up scenes, and there are quite a few photos of Alice Liddell, the girl who inspired the famous books and to whom the stories were told. Another young girl, Xie (short for Alexandra) Kitchin, also makes frequent appearances, sometimes in costume, sleeping peacefully on an ottoman or standing sullenly in front of a wall. One image shows her with siblings in a mise-en-scene of St. George and the Dragon, presumably from the photographic version of charades Carroll and the children sometimes played.

Though these particular photos are posed and structured, Carroll still managed to show something of the essence of childhood in them. One can see the playfulness in the dressing up combined with the seriousness that children take in playing the part of someone else. No less beautiful are the strange, now-controversial photos of girls posing with bare legs and shoulders, sprawled out on sofas, some offering almost coy looks to the camera.

Examining these photos, you get the peculiar feeling that someone is standing behind you, and in a moment, their shadow will fall across the photo. Maybe it is the shadow of Lewis Carroll behind the camera, watching his subject as he pushes down the shutter. Or it may be the shadow of judgment you carry in your back pocket.

Step back for a moment, and you'll find that the works are undeniably beautiful. All good photos raise questions; Carroll's also raise eyebrows over his intentions. At one time, there was an export ban in England on Alice photos?disputed to be "either images of childhood innocence or photographs of girls seen through the suppressed pedophile eye of Lewis Carroll." But parents readily gave their permission for the photo sessions, so it's likely that it never occurred to them to be suspicious. They were usually friends with Carroll, and during the Victorian era, children were seen as sexless.

The accusations are not new. Some have long asked why Carroll never married. He received a fellowship at Oxford University under the condition that he remain single and join the clergy, and yet he never took orders. He was purportedly a poor public speaker and wouldn't have made it as a minister due to a stammer (though he did eventually become a reverend). This speech impediment, curiously, disappeared when he was in the company of children, whom he clearly understood and could relate to.

There are no answers to be found in the images that sparked the controversy. The "enigmatic children" are silent, caught in a moment long gone. Whatever Carroll's private thoughts, he captured something distinct about childhood. The faces in his portraits convey the strangeness of growing up, a child's questioning and unquestioning innocence and awareness. The photos are quiet and dark, serene and warped. In the end, they are what the viewer wants to make of them, and much like childhood, much like art, should be viewed and enjoyed with questions hanging in the air, unanswered.