As illogical as it seemed, there he was, standing next to a tree, his camera on a tripod, its lens focused on an object only a few inches away.
The day before, Ernst Haas who many considered the world’s greatest color photographer, had electrified a group of his contemporaries with his photographs. They weren’t just ordinary images, but rather the same ones that appeared in his book, The Creation. As described in the scriptures of the Holy Bible, his book visually depicted what the earth must have looked like as it was being created.
To get those pictures, however, Ernst had to travel to many locations throughout the world. Some were remote while others had weather conditions that threatened him and his camera equipment. There was also the task of constantly making sure each scene closely matched how things must have looked after their creation.
In that regard, Ernst insisted each image be authentic and captured in straightforward fashion without the use of special photographic techniques. That required him to be at the right place at the right time so the image would fully reveal the mysterious, beautiful, and sometimes ominous.
Looming above all those conditions was the challenge Ernst had established for himself — record images so powerful they would appear to ease off the page to surround the viewer and cause that person to feel as if they had actually witnessed the making of our earth.
Then, and years later, there he was, on the University of Miami campus, a highly-populated and noisy urban environment.
As I approached him, he smiled when he recognized me as having been in the audience the day before. Then and still without saying anything, he motioned for me to have a look through his camera. I obliged and as I moved my eye up to the viewfinder I saw it, a black bug, sort of leaning backward on its shiny black legs and looking back at me.
Ernst then explained he just happened to see the bug as he was walking by. Without really thinking, he stopped and hurriedly set up the camera so he could take a closer look and maybe get a picture.
About the time Ernst was finally able to focus on the bug, it stopped walking and turned so that it was looking straight at the camera. Ernst said that although he had already taken several pictures, he hadn’t left because he wondered how long the bug would stay there staring into the camera.
How could a bug be so curious or so oblivious to what could have been a danger to its continued existence? Ernst could only speculate and therein lay the magic of the event, a thin slice of time never to be relived by either the bug or himself. Just as the bug would either be eaten by a bird or die a natural death, so would Ernst continue making pictures somewhere else in the world.
Until I came along, the accounting of what happened was destined to forever be between the Ernst and the bug. But since I saw what was happening, I was able to conclude in my own way if the event did or didn’t have any meaning.
The answer to that question didn’t come to me then, but it did later and now I believe it’s a good time to pass it on to you.
Imbedded in the life we live is a myriad of countless small happenings that help make up the whole or our existence. That bit of logic is rarely acknowledged because of the hugeness of everything else that keeps coming at us — family, jobs, people, disasters, war, political unrest, and economic uncertainty pounding relentlessly on our senses and dominating our thoughts.
Those events certainly deserve our attention, but only in the proper amount rather than with the overpowering deluge delivered by communications demanding we be constantly “informed” about everything.
The true flavor of life, however, lies in far smaller and sometimes mysterious things. Some are already bright and shiny and ready to provide enrichment and pleasure. Others are dull and uninteresting, waiting to be polished with our own thoughts and imagination until they also gleam and become part of our unforgettable past.
Ernst now belongs to the ages, but I still remember that day when I saw the sense of wonder in his eyes and heard his low voice tinged with quiet excitement.
It was only a bug, but not just any bug. That one apparently not only wanted to merely be seen, but to be photographed. Of course, you laugh at that thought and I’m laughing along with you.
Yet, what a fine example it was of engaging with and being entertained by the small wonders of the world. It’s a perfect way to prepare ourselves for wrestling with the much larger issues.
