On art and photography: By the light of the silvery moon

A friend of mine recently noted that it must be nice to live in Washington, D.C., and have access to so many varied museums. Indeed, it is – and the great thing about it is most of them offer free admission, too. Take the National Gallery of Art, for instance, which has grown into our favorite museum to visit in the two years we’ve resided inside the Beltway.

In addition to regularly attending the NGA’s monthly “Evenings on the Edge,” in which the east gallery stays open late the first Thursday of selected months, from time to time the NGA also sponsors insightful lectures in conjunction with its ongoing exhibitions.

Last week, my wife and I attended one of these lectures, “Photographing the Moon,” which featured curators from the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum discussing the history of photographing the moon and how photography played both a significant role in preparing for the Apollo 11 moon landing on July 20, 1969 and in shaping the cultural consciousness of the event.

We learned how “the mission, launched within the framework of Cold War rivalry with the Soviet Union, was not merely one of scientific discovery and technical prowess. It was necessary, as President John F. Kennedy explained in a famous 1962 speech, ‘to win the battle ... between freedom and tyranny’ and held nothing less than ‘the key to our future on Earth.’”

Buzz Aldrin’s Footprint, July 20, 1969

David DeVorkin, senior curator of astronomy and space sciences, spoke on “Mapping the Moon with Telescopes,” in which he illustrated the interplay of the eye and hand with the development of the photographic process of the moon over the past 150 years and how it impacted the Apollo space program.

Then, Matthew Shindell, curator of planetary science, in “Geology from Orbit: Robots, Cameras and Photogeology,” described the development and impact that photogeology, which provided for early photography of the earth and moon from airplanes, had in establishing a pathway for mapping and selecting landing sites for manned missions to the moon.

Finally, Jennifer Levasseur, curator of space history, showed how images captured by the Apollo Era astronauts formed a framework for our ability to understand human spaceflight today.

The hour-long lecture tied in nicely with the “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” exhibition at the National Gallery of Art, which we viewed afterward. (The exhibition opened on July 14 and continues through January 5, 2020 in Gallery 22 of the NGA’s West Building.)

“By the Light of the Silvery Moon” contains some 50 works including a selection of photographs taken by the unmanned Ranger, Surveyor and Lunar Orbiter missions that were preliminary to the Apollo 11 manned space flight. The landmark event is represented by glass stereographs that were taken on the moon by astronauts Neil Armstrong and Edwin “Buzz” Aldrin. They show close-up views of three-inch-square areas of the lunar surface. There are also many iconic NASA and press photographs of the astronauts, which brought back memories of my childhood, that received wide recognition and dissemination following the success of the Apollo 11 mission.

The exhibition also includes lunar photographs collected from the 19th and early 20th centuries, including Warren de la Rue’s late 1850s glass stereograph of the full moon and Charles Le Morvan’s photogravures from Carte photographique et systematique de la lune that was published in 1914, in which he tried to “systematically map the entire visible lunar surface.”

Collectively, the photographs displayed in “By the Light of the Silvery Moon,” ranging from the 19th century to the “space-age” 1960s, “merged art and science and transformed the way that we envision and comprehend the cosmos.”

Credits: Cover photo: By Michael Dickens. Other photos: Courtesy of “By the Light of the Silvery Moon” exhibition. Video: Courtesy of YouTube and National Gallery of Art.

As close to the bone as filmmaking gets: Ken Burns Presents "Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies"

A biography of cancer / First the book,
now the film

Imagine the problems that would be alleviated if a cure for cancer were found.

In the spirit of learning and understanding, last week my wife and I attended a screening of the new Ken Burns Presents "Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies," a film by Barak Goodman, at the invitation of KQED, our PBS affiliate, in San Francisco.

The film, a three part, six-hour documentary, will debut next week from March 30-April 1 on PBS -- and I highly recommend you see it.

After all, convening dialogue in the pursuit of lifelong learning can only lead to a better understanding of our world, right?

We saw a 45-minute preview that included portions from all three parts, followed by an interview and a Q & A session with Barak Goodman. The Emmy-winning and Oscar-nominated film director reminded us how we are all impacted by cancer and noted how some of us will die because of the deadly disease.

"Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies" is based on physician, researcher, and award-winning science writer Siddhartha Mukherjee's Pulitzer Prize-winning book, which examines cancer with "a cellular biologist's precision, a historian's perspective, and a biographer's passion."

Through Goodman's direction, the film tells the complete story of cancer, "from its first description in an ancient Egyptian scroll to the gleaming laboratories of modern research institutions," according to the program's website. "At six hours, the film interweaves a sweeping historical narrative; with intimate stories about contemporary patients; and an investigation into the latest scientific breakthroughs that may have brought us, at long last, to the brink of lasting cures."

The film combines science and case studies with history -- more than 100 people were interviewed and 700 hours of film were produced over a two-year period -- and, after previewing "Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies," it's easy to see the influence filmmaker Ken Burns had on the project as executive producer. Call it the Ken Burns effect, if you will, of panning and zooming from still imagery and using lots of talking heads on camera to tell the story.

"There's a lot of Ken Burns stuff (techniques) in it," said Goodman. "While his finger prints are all over it, the really great thing about Ken is he gave us the space to make the film."

Much of the film took place at the The Sidney Kimmel Comprehensive Cancer Center at Johns Hopkins Medicine in Baltimore, Md., and at the Charleston Area Medical center in Charleston, West Virginia.

The film tugs on a lot of heartstrings and emotions. "It was extremely emotionally challenging because we got very, very close to the patients we filmed, some of whom didn't survive their cancer," said Goodman.

In a PBS promo for the film, Burns said that "Cancer: The Emperor of All Maladies" is "about as close to the bone as filmmaking gets for me. Cancer has been a huge part of my life. There is never a moment in my awareness as a human being that I didn't know that something was desperately wrong with my mother, at 2 1/2 to 3 years. She was sick with cancer. She died when I was 11, almost 12 years old.

"The reason why I do what I do comes from this illness and this death and watching it  happen," he said.

After a 10-year struggle with the disease, Burns' mother died of breast cancer.

Cancer is a monumental and difficult but solvable problem, says Goodman. "We hope the series makes people hope; to not shy away from the disease."

To learn more:
http://video.pbs.org/program/story-cancer-emperor-all-maladies/

How We Got to Now: The power and legacy of great ideas

How We Got to Now / The history behind
everyday objects that are a part of our
contemporary life.

Steven Johnson is a bestselling author of nine books, including Where Good Ideas Come From, a founder of a variety of influential websites, and the host and co-creator of the PBS and BBC series How We Got to Now. His newest book is my current reading project, the just-published How We Got to Now: Six Innovations That Made the Modern World.

It is cerebral fun.

In How We Got to Now, Johnson explores the power and legacy of great ideas by investigating the secret histories -- innovation trails -- behind everyday objects that are a part of our contemporary life. He examines "unexpected connections between seemingly unrelated fields: how the invention of air-conditioning enabled the largest migration of human beings in the history of the species to otherwise uninhabitable cities such as Dubai and Phoenix; how pendulum clocks helped trigger the industrial revolution; and how clean water made it possible to manufacture computer chips."

Each of the six innovations that made the modern world, according to Johnson -- glass, cold, sound, cleanliness, time and light -- garners attention in How We Got to Now. 

"Johnson is a polymath," wrote the Los Angeles Times. "It's exhilarating to follow his unpredictable trains of thought. To explain why some ideas upend the world, he draws upon many disciplines: chemistry, social history, geography, even eco-system science."

In the book's opening chapter about glass, for instance, Johnson writes: "Mirrors appeared so magical that they were quickly integrated into somewhat bizarre sacred rituals: During holy pilgrimages, it became common practice for well-off pilgrims to take a mirror with them. When visiting sacred relics, they would position themselves so that they could catch sight of the bones in the mirror's reflection. Back home, they would then show off these mirrors to friends and relatives, boasting that they had brought back physical evidence of the relic by capturing the reflection of the sacred scene. Before turning to the printing press, Gutenberg had the start-up idea of manufacturing and selling small mirrors for departing pilgrims.

"But the mirror's most significant impact would be secular, not sacred. Filippo Brunelleschi employed a mirror to invent linear perspective in painting, by drawing a reflection of the Florence Baptistry instead of his direct perception of it. The art of the late Renaissance is heavily populated by mirrors lurking inside paintings, most famously in Diego Velázquez's inverted masterpiece, Las Meninas, which shows the artist (and the extended royal family) in the middle of painting King Philip IV and Queen Mariana of Spain. The entire image is captured from the point of view of two royal subjects sitting for their portrait; it is, in a very literal sense, a painting about the act of painting. The king and queen are visible only in one small fragment of the canvas, just to the right of Velázquez himself: two small, blurry images reflected back in a mirror.

"As a tool, the mirror became an invaluable asset to painters who could now capture the world around them in a fare more realistic fashion, including the detailed features of their own faces."

Who knew!

In reviewing How We Got to Now, the San Francisco Chronicle wrote: "Monks transcribing religious manuscripts in the 12th and 13th centuries began using pieces of crystal the better to see their work with, and so spectacles were born. And then came Gutenberg, whose printed books created a bigger market for them. In 1610, Galileo used a crystal lens to make the telescope, through which he observed moons orbiting Jupiter, and from there came the doctrine-shattering revelation that the Earth is not the center of the universe.

"The discovery had a reverberating impact that is still being absorbed today. Not only did it reveal a truth about the physical world, it reflected back on the human sense of our place in time and space."

Walter Isaacson, the author of Steve Jobs, calls Johnson "the Darwin of technology. Through fascinating observations and insights, he enlightens us about the origins of ideas."

By connecting all of the important dots through the centuries, Steven Johnson takes us on a wonderful journey through time and innovation. And, in doing so, he makes learning about science and technology great fun.

A Great Debate ~ imagination vs. knowledge

Albert Einstein / Imagination will take you everywhere.

Albert Einstein once said that imagination is more important than knowledge.  "Knowledge," he stated, "is limited to all we know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there will ever be to know and understand."

Put into a modern context, in our ever-changing, "wired" world of 24/7/365 news and information, technology and culture, does Einstein's vision of imagination over knowledge still hold true?  I would like to think so. After all, imagination gives us impetus to create.  Yet, I do believe imagination often owes a debt of gratitude to knowledge.

Here's an example: Knowledge is Thomas Edison developing the means for improving the audibility of the telephone. Imagination is Steve Jobs taking Edison's body of late 19th/early 20th century knowledge and ~ with a world of imagination (and some great marketing) ~ turning it into the modern creation of the Apple iPhone 4, a smart phone for the 21st century.  The Apple iPhone 4 is not only a telephone, but also it's a camera, an mp3 player, an information receiver, organizer, and a communications device all-in-one ~ and just slightly more portable than Edison's telephones ever were.

Here's another example: The American astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson, director of New York's Hayden Planetarium and host of the PBS series Nova scienceNOW, has studied the great debate of imagination versus knowledge.  He understands and appreciates the benefits that both sides contribute to the study of science and physics.

"You can explore (what's already been explored), but your life is not at risk for having done so," deGrasse Tyson said, explaining the worthiness and human spirit of adventure in sending man to explore Mars at a time when a return to Moon may be less risky.

During a recent appearance on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, deGrasse Tyson, a popularizer of science, expounded on the imagination versus knowledge debate:  "When you are on the frontier of knowledge between what is known and what is unknown ~ reaching out into that abyss ~ sometimes, you do actually have to make stuff up that might be true so that you can organize a research plan to find out whether or not it is."  

A false bridge?  Maybe, but it comes with good intentions and involves a bit of risk taking.

"This is the creativity of discovery," deGrasse Tyson concluded.

Which brings us back to Einstein, the German born American physicist with the whimsical facial expressions, who developed the special and general theories of relativity ~ no small fete ~ and won the Nobel Prize for Physics in 1921.  "The true sign of intelligence is not knowledge but imagination,'' Einstein said. "Imagination is the preview of life's coming attractions.

"Logic will get you from A to B.  Imagination will take you everywhere."

Life's an adventure.  The journey continues ...

Photo of Albert Einstein taken in 1953, Ruth Orkin/Hulton Archive/Getty Images.

Photography: Is it an art or a science?

Never underestimate the value of new social media.  I don't. Love it or loathe it, social media, such as Facebook and Twitter, fosters community, connecting us with friends and neighbors near and far ~ and sometimes, it connects us with others sharing a common interest.  At times, it can even be thought provoking.

Each week on Facebook, London's Tate Modern poses thought-provoking questions in its weekly "Thursday Tate Debate." Although most of the community who participate in this weekly forum are from Great Britain, occasionally, international respondents contribute to the discussion, from near and far ~ covering many, if not most, European Union countries as well as across the pond in the United States, closer to home.  I have participated in a couple of these discussions.

As someone who has visited the Tate Modern, Britain's national gallery of international modern art, several times (it's located on the South Bank of the Thames and is connected to central London and St. Paul's Cathedral via the Millennium Bridge), I appreciate their regular use of new social media as a means of fostering a community sharing an appreciation for art.

This week's debate topic centered on photography, a casual hobby of mine: "Do you think photography is more of an art or a science?"

I posted the following response:  "I think today's use modern digital photography raises the bar for art versus science. Certainly, photography is art because of the use of color and emotion.  Yet, the editing process (in digital photography) allows for science to be a part of the process.  It's a great debate."

Afterward, I started to think about my own photography and the great debate question.  As many of you know, I am fond of photographing our home gardens ~ roses, camellias, rhododendrons, fuchsia and calla lilies ~ often, to create greeting cards for family and friends.

Yesterday, I browsed through a variety of photographs I've shot this year ~ and there were many ~ and found a calla lily that in my opinion can be a catalyst in the debate.  When shown in its natural colors, I think of this photograph of a calla lily as art. However, when I digitally edit the photograph to eliminate its natural color, changing it to black and white, my focus shifts toward thinking of this photograph as a product of science at work.

In color: Calla lily, 2010

In black and white: Calla lily, 2010

Photography:  Is is an art or a science?  I welcome your thoughts and comments.