Astronomy Art

A few days ago I came across an old post on a science art blog lamenting the fact that there are few artists and bloggers these days whose primary focus is space and astronomy art. Maybe because much of what is currently "observable" is not actually viewable--even with the aided  eye--this limits the personal experience with objects or scenes that can inspire an artist to create. Perhaps artists are intimidated by the perceived expectation to comment accurately on the science behind their works, or maybe they feel their efforts trumped by the scads of beautiful photographs created daily by professional and amateur observers alike.

Having occasionally experimented myself with observationally based astronomical sketching as well as illustrations of imagined objects, I've spent a lot of time thinking about my own concerns in approaching celestial subjects. One of the biggest hangups I've had is making sure that what I draw retains a degree of accuracy and scientific meaning. I know there's lots of art that is wild, abstract, out of proportion, and not at all based on a picture-perfect rendering of reality that is still aesthetically viable and even conveys a deeper sense of meaning about its subject than it might have otherwise. Still, when I've sat down and drawn a made-up nebula or star cluster, or thought about creating an abstract representation of a famous astronomical object (like the Lagoon Nebula...one of my favorites!), I always feel a little queasy about it. I worry that any artistic interpretations of an astronomical scene might only detract from the perfect beauty of the original, while simultaneously giving a false account of what actually exists in the universe.

I know. I worry too much.

Which is why, I finally gave in to my inclination to complete a rather unconventional portrait of a totally fictional astronomical body...

The creative spark for this drawing--which I'm calling Stellar Nursery--was initially inspired by those cool math pictures I wrote about a few posts ago, but then sat around untouched for days while I ruminated over how to develop the initial sketch (I hate that stage). Later, after I finished reading Frank Herbert's The Jesus Incident, I went back into the studio intending to put to paper a few of the fantastical scenes that were banging around inside my head. However, when I removed the old sketch and went to refit my drawing board with a clean sheet of paper, I hesitated. There was something about the sketch that still compelled me. I stared at it for a while, and decided to make a go of completing it.

Though the result looks only faintly like real stellar nurseries I've seen, and definitely does not accurately portray any scientific principal or process, it still evokes for me the exuberance I've felt when learning about, viewing, and remembering past observations of, our galaxy's active star forming regions.

It remains to be seen if this drawing signals the beginning of a series...

Flute-a-Pillar

After a weekend forecast of persistent rain, how could I not take advantage of a refreshing Sunday-morning break in the clouds and head outdoors. At the recommendation of a fellow BRAS member, I decided to visit the Schoepfle Garden (one of the many metro parks operated by Lorain County), to stretch my legs a bit and take some photos.

The park--only a short drive through the cornfields from Oberlin--consists of a traditional European style formal garden (complete with meticulously-manicured topiary), surrounded by acres of natural woodland that edge a stretch of the Vermillion River. Though this adorably perky green sculpture was undeniably charming, I'll admit I generally prefer seeking out slightly more chaotic and hidden treasures.

A jumbled leafy mess at first glance, the tantalizing geometry of this spiderweb drew my attention...

...and maybe raccoons are so common here as to be a nuisance, but what beautiful little five-fingered footprints they leave behind...

As cliche as it can be, I don't suppose I'll ever get tired of gazing at bits of dew glimmering in the morning sunlight...

...or finding bold bits of color that glare out atop beds of mud and decay...

 Nature high aside, nothing prepared me for what I later encountered in the children's garden. I'll let this one speak for itself...I really have nothing else to add!

..."OF COURSE"...  

                                     Hmmmm...

A Flute-a-Pillar... What they won't think of next!

I certainly didn't expect musical instruments to feature so prominently in the local landscaping...

But no trumpet...aw shucks!

In my own backyard

It's a GORGEOUS day outside.

At the Black River Astronomy Society's club meeting last week, one of the members quipped, "The things I love most about living in Ohio are September and October," and I'm beginning to understand why. In order to take advantage of the lovely afternoon I decided to go on a mini expedition into the backyard and see if I could discover any cool happenings.

Little yellow flowers glowed in the fading light of the afternoon...

...and I spent some time observing an engorged Orb Weaver as he slept off what must have been quite a memorable feast...

...but the most uninhibited festivities were taking place among our already prodigious population of crane flies.

There were at least four couples whom I observed livin' it up on the north side of the house, and many more single rovers buzzing around trying to woo a potential partner. Looks like Mr. Orb Weaver won't be missing any meals anytime soon...

Cool Math Pictures

If you search arnold tongues in google images, you might be surprised to discover that the lovely photo at left is not the first, or even the most eye-popping image that is retrieved.

Instead (and no offense to Mr. Schwartzenegger's unique performance), I hope you would be as mesmerized as I am by a boldly-colored panel that looks like it could have been taken from off the cover of some fantastic retro-science-fiction magazine...


...You stare in awed horror at an apocalyptic sky dotted with swooping UFOs, while an army of alien invaders advances over the barren desert landscape...

Last night, Rob came into the kitchen as I was cleaning up after a chocolate-chip-cookie fest and said...with typical nonchalance..."Hey, ya wanna see somethin' cool?" He's actually been showing me quite a few interesting pictures these past few weeks. Mostly ideas for homework projects to use in the computational physics course he teaches at the college, the images have ranged from the somewhat more familiar Mandelbrot set...

...to last night's unveiling of the Arnold tongues (two above), a bifurcation diagram of the circle map (doesn't this look like it could be found at a modern art museum)...

...and a comparatively simple--but sublime and elegant--logistic map...

Maybe because it's a bunch of lines rendered in (my favorite) black-and-white, this last graphic immediately sent my mind spinning off into a creative frenzy. This looks like something I might draw...or rather...it looks like something I wish I'd drawn...or even better, I thought, "I could use these graphics as inspiration for my next Masterpiece!!!" 

Now, I've still got an inspiration or two bouncing around in my subconscious, and I did fool around with some sketches this afternoon (which I'm sorry to say I won't show unless I finish), but what's occurred to me since that initial spark is the truly incredible thing about these graphics is that they were generated through mathematical functions...just sets of parameters run through a computer code a b'jillion times until these surreal and beautiful patterns emerged from the chaos. A butterfly flaps its wings in Paris and...

Once we got past memorizing multiplication tables in elementary school, whatever aptitude I might have had for mathematics faded away into oblivion. There are all sorts of ideas about why people get scared away from math. In spite of the current trendiness of "nerd" culture, it unfortunately remains a popular subject to hate (on an episode of Star Trek Enterprise I watched last night, Hoshi even used the phrase "calculus equations" to represent her frustrated feelings toward the impossibly difficult language she was trying to decode), and I'm ashamed to say I was chief among the haters. The grades on my senior-year high school report card were admirable...well, except for that D in trig/pre-calc (I don't remember a single thing from that class except that logarithms were impossible and I had a crush on a boy that sat nearby...not that HE cared). I dropped out of the only college math class I ever tried to take at the U of U, and I can't tell you how overjoyed I was when I found out I wouldn't have to take ANY math to graduate from Juilliard.

In the intervening years, I've begun to appreciate all that I've missed by not giving math a chance. Now (even though I still squint and wrinkle my forehead whenever a page of numbers presents itself to me), I sometimes even fantasize about going back and refreshing my algebra well enough to approach calculus with an open mind. Just think of all the cool graphics I might eventually be able to create!

(an image of the Chirikov Standard Map taken from Wikipedia)

Daddy Long Legs

I've already told you that the house Rob and I are sharing for the year is super cool.  I've set up a beautiful studio, have taken advantage of the extensive counter space and gadgetry available in the kitchen, and love the afternoons I'm able to curl up on the front porch with a good book and a cool drink.  From here it's only a five minute walk (or less) to the gym, the physics building, the college's observatory and planetarium, Oberlin's free art museum, the public library, and a host of restaurants that range from yer reg'lar ol' corner Subway to the trendy Feve (where--as a side note--last week I had the most delicious hamburger I've ever had in my life.  The burger itself was juicy and delectably flavorful. Topped with sun-dried-tomato pesto, chévre, lettuce, and tomato, it delivered an unforgettable burst of goodness to the taste buds).

One of the only problems I've confronted with this otherwise luxurious living arrangement, is that we have to share our space with an astonishing number of cellar spiders, or Pholcidae...more commonly known as daddy-long-legs. Just to be clear, the creatures we always referred to as "daddy-long-legs" while I was growing up (and swore possessed the most potent venom of the spider kingdom, and could kill you if their jaws were only big enough), were actually not spiders at all, but belong to an order of arachnids called harvestmen. The cellar spiders I run into here are gorgeously dainty, but hugely sprawling critters that build their messy webs in every possible nook and corner they can find...especially (and appropriately enough), in the cellar.

Whenever I go downstairs to do laundry or add newspaper to the recycling pile, I have to dodge clusters of webs on every stair corner and paddle my way through curtains of hanging silk that dangle languidly from the low ceiling.

Just the other day I had a more direct confrontation with one of these balletic beasts.  In order to prevent mildew, we've been asked to leave the front washer door open after every load. On this occasion I pulled back the handle and discovered the biggest specimen I'd yet encountered perched within a web that filled the washer's front opening. It's nice that these spiders are not particularly aggressive. I gently shooed this one away and, as he tiptoed off upon eight transparent willowy limbs, cleared away the remnants of his gauzy lair.

I suppose I should accept at least part of the blame for our infestation. As you may remember from my dealings with cockroaches in Evanston, I really dislike killing things...even those typically considered to be creepy and/or thoroughly disgusting. That I'm not a vegetarian (and so completely relished that hamburger the other night) is a glaring hypocrisy.

So far these spiders haven't caused me any real harm. I've even wondered from time to time what other pesky critters they may be keeping at bay. I suppose I'm getting used to our gangly neighbors. I'll just have to watch where I'm reaching and keep inspecting my shoes before putting them on.