During a visit to Israel back in 2005, I had a chance to visit the Weizmann Institute of Science in Rehovot. It was my first time, and I spent a long day exploring only but a drop of what the large campus, with more than 75 buildings, has to offer – to visitors and the world at large. As most are familiar, Weizmann is one of the leading institutions in the world that devotes itself to researching the breadth of the sciences and technology. From the time that I walked through the main gate shortly before nine on a Tuesday morning, with a camera bag and tripod in hand, until the moment I left at close to 9:30pm, I did a lot of walking, a lot of talking, a lot of picture taking, and came to appreciate, that this institution, founded in 1934, is a leading example of how academic and research initiative combines with communal support and understanding to benefit our generation, and the generations that will follow.

I’m not a scientist. But I’ve always been curious, and that’s a significant reason why I’m a photographer and an artist. I like to explore things. Taking long walks, traveling - or, when going nowhere by land, air or sea, studying, reading, and contemplating… Thinking about “things”…

When I meet people, I often ask a lot of questions. That’s part of being curious, and that’s how I learn. Many, I find, appreciate the fact that someone is taking an interest in them, their life, their interests, and their beliefs. Others may wonder why all the questions. I can only imagine that scientists spend a lot of their time asking questions (and deciding which questions to ask), and even more time trying to answer them. Part of their time is also spent explaining to others – those less familiar with the sciences, or a particular discipline within the sciences, or a particular study within that discipline - what exactly it is that they do.

I observed an example of this that morning, after taking a 15-minute walk across campus to photograph a presentation by Weizmann’s glass blower, Professor Danny Nutman. A middle-aged man, affable, and looking the part of a professor or scientist – if there is such a look – Professor Nutman produces many of the glass instruments used by the Weizmann scientists in their experiments. Test tubes and beakers are staples in any laboratory, but the specific needs of a melange of experiments dictate other shapes, sizes, and intricacies.

When I walked into the auditorium at the Davidson Institute of Science Education (a school located on the far end of the Weizmann campus that trains teachers to teach the sciences), Professor Nutman was speaking to a group of visiting high school students from the city of Ashdod. Many of the kids were of Russian background, and he, standing up front with a pointer in hand, and just a few feet behind an active Bunsen burner, shooting out a serious looking jet of flame, was engaging them in a lesson about the properties of glass.

He shared with the class, by listing examples, how many of the items we use daily, aside from eyeglasses and drinking glasses, use glass as a key and necessary component. Fiber optics is but one example that he gave. I thought his presentation was great, and told him so afterwards. He was interesting, humorous, strict at times (gum chewing and talking were not acceptable during his lecture), and involved the students by calling on a good number of them to come up front as volunteers (willing or not), to participate in some of the demonstrations, goggles and all. The protective eyewear was a must and an item that he could even use to joke about with the kids. 

“Doesn’t she look good in them?” he asked the class at one point, seeking their assessment of the fashion trends he was promoting for the moment. They responded with a chuckle, one of many that I heard and witnessed on their faces during the hour-long get together with the professor. Through the lens of the camera, I watched those that were watching, scanning their faces: the signs of agreement, intrigue, and acceptance of his deft manner of presentation. I knew for sure that by the end of the session, not only was glass - its origins, properties and applications - more understood and appreciated by the young audience, but that there were now also some new “future scientists” sitting in the lecture hall. Professor Nutman had peaked their interest. He had made an aspect of science understandable. He had invited them to take a further interest in the sciences, to participate again, at another time, in a small or maybe a big way, in scientific exploration.   

As the lunch crowd petered out towards mid-afternoon, I left Charlie’s, passed the circular Life Sciences Library and made my way into a nearby building looking for a laboratory situation to photograph. As it turned out, I had happened into a building where scientists were involved with plant molecular genetics research, and the graduate students I met explained to me the nature of their work. They were involved in all stages of growing and experimenting on a plant that is a part of the larger mustard family. The Latin name they mentioned escapes me, though it was told to me a number of times (each time I asked). What I did understand is that this plant’s genetic structure is known in depth, so these plants are the obvious choice for experiments and studies designed to understand variations and other aspects of plant growth. These biologists are working hard to improve food crops, strengthening plant varieties against disease, improving their nutritional value, and fathoming the process of photosynthesis, with the possible changes that have been brought about by alterations in the ozone layer.

I watched as Sarit, an Israeli, but originally from South America, checked her beakers that were being agitated on a moving tray. She would soon put the vegetation into the refrigerator for a couple of days to stimulate the growth of these plants that are normally found in cooler climates. Afterwards they would be transferred to a greenhouse setting where the growth would continue to full size.

I spent more than three hours in a couple of the labs, photographed Sarit and six of her other colleagues, and then, aware of the waning sun, made my way back to the main gate to photograph a scene taken at dusk. I took a light meter reading, crouched down low, and seated myself on the sidewalk, composing a picture of the gate, featuring the Weizmann name, along with pedestrians crossing, cars exiting, and a bicycle moving in the foreground - all lit by my flash. In the last mentioned image, I pressed the cable release and took my picture just as a bicyclist peddled across my frame (see it, and many of the other scenes I refer to, in the photo essay that accompanies this article).

By now the sun had almost set, but my day wasn’t over yet. I returned to the area of buildings where I’d been before, this time stopping in the Life Sciences Library where I photographed a collection of colorful journals and books – green, yellow, blue, red, brown and violet - arranged side-by-side on the metal shelves of the second floor. I took a 20 minute break to check my e-mails and then, in search of any remaining life on campus at this late hour (maybe I’m also a scientist?), wandered into the nearby mathematics, computer science (and robotics) building. The halls were empty but a light was on in one of the rooms, an office with four separate areas, each with a desk, cabinets and an erasable board. The space on the far right was occupied by a graduate student in his mid-20s. It was soon clear that he’d be staying later in the evening than I would, sitting at the computer preparing a presentation and short lecture that he would deliver the next day to his fellow students and some of his professors. He didn’t feel he was ready yet, wanting to improve both the content and delivery of his message, a topic that he said was related to random generation.    

I photographed him at the computer and also turned my attention to the blackboards, or erasable easels, where math equations remained from that day or a prior day’s academic activity. Weizmann is certainly about math equations and microscopes, but it’s also about about the sun, our planet’s water supply, the human brain, curable disease, medications, new materials, quantum mechanics and outer space. I had stepped into six buildings during my one-day visit to the campus. It’s always good to leave some things to do next time.

Click here to view the photo essay A Day at Weizmann

Judah S. Harris is a photographer, filmmaker, speaker and writer. His work can be seen at www.judahsharris.com/visit and in a frequent e-mail newsletter that circulates to thousands of readers.

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