Touching Space

As I begin this essay, I’m eagerly awaiting the launch of ESA’s Euclid Mission from Florida. Ten years in development, the Falcon 9 rocket will send a telescope, with one of the most powerful cameras in space and two sensitive instruments, to explore the nature of dark matter and dark energy. But the spacecraft is also dispatching another extraordinary item: mounted on its hull is the Fingertip Galaxy plaque with the finger marks of over 250 mission scientists and engineers, its goal to convey the spirit of the mission. The handmade galaxy painting, encircled with poetry, is etched on an aluminium A5 size plate and glued to the craft. Many of the scientists who worked with me to achieve this effort (alongside the critical instrument and theoretical work required) are excited by the prospect of their mark going into space. However, why in the broad sweep of space exploration, as we reach further into the universe and consider living off planet, is it so important to make room for creative projects in future missions?

In the process of trying to answer this, we are compelled to review the importance of art to humanity in general – a subject copiously covered by art historians. An expression of culture, thinking and aesthetics, art is a vehicle to respond, expose and process the world in which we live. In the context of space science, art touches on feelings and emotions not considered by science or technology. For example, Euclid’s data scientists have developed complex ways to measure galaxy distortions in order to map the structure of dark matter but this won’t express the emotional experiences that drive their work. While artist in residence at Mullard Space Science Laboratory, I interviewed 13 members of the VIS instrument team and many said the thrill of being involved in space exploration influenced their choice of work. The lure of the unknown, the romance of exploration, thirst for knowledge, call it what you want but the emotional response is real and motivating. Their painted fingertips offered them a means to express the motive that underpinned years of research in an extremely demanding field.

A candid tweet by ESA Research Fellow Guadalupe Cañas-Herrera sheds light on the experience, ‘I doubted for days and Lisa pushed me to include my fingerprint on the last day (of the Helsinki Consortium meeting 2019). I thought I didn’t deserve it because I had just recently joined the EC Euclid team. Years later, I’m happy I did. Too emotional.’

In general, a hesitancy by many scientists had to be overcome. Many felt that ‘art’ wasn’t for them and needed convincing. As the number of participants and enthusiasm swelled during the conference, it became easier to convince others to take part. Many confided that they hadn’t done any art in years. And here may be the rub – scientists leave the trappings (and joy) of art behind with their childhood. As professionals with exacting disciplines, mixing creativity with scientific concepts was foreign, an unsettling mix. Artists, however, see a way around this, embracing the cultural activity of science in the arms of creativity. Rare is the scientist who is open to the stimulating mix of art/science relationships.

I was therefore fortunate to meet Prof Tom Kitching at UCL’s MSSL Space Lab (Euclid Mission Science Lead) who enthusiastically accepted my proposal to be artist in residence while completing an MA in Art and Science at Central Saint Martins London 2018. Our many philosophically tinged conversations about dark matter and gravitational lensing led to an unexpected outcome for the mission and a burst of creative activities at the lab that are still talked about. Art workshops during lunch hours included glass fusing, cyanotype prints, painting and visits by other artists. I shared my work while responding to lab visits and casual conversations in their common room through a series of presentations and a final exhibition in London. Art had snuck in through the back door of MSSL – held open by two curious people (who happen to have very different jobs) with a love for astrophysics. Institutional support was essential: Arts Council England’s Lottery Grant funded this extraordinary collaboration; later, as the project grew and was better understood, it was supplemented by MSSL and the European Space Agency.

There is a school of thought that believes art and science aren’t natural bedfellows and that it’s an anomaly that such relationships develop at all. This leaves us staring at a crucial misconception about humanity: are our minds bent solely toward ordered reason or attuned to expressiveness? Humans hold both qualities but choose (or are nudged by society) to cultivate one over the other in their work over time while developing creativity for different ends. Science is incredibly creative and innovative. Leaps of intuition backed by years of research result in most technological and theoretical breakthroughs. Artists are driven by curiosity and combined with intense powers of observation and determination, find ways to embody and express the extraordinary. But try swapping these descriptions for both professions: they work because we share more than the sum of our differences. Together we carry the spectrum of humanity in our work.

This is why it is crucial to include artists in space missions, to leave room for the unexpected merging of ideas and inspiring outcomes that these can provide. Unique perspectives are achieved only when the full breadth of humanity is drawn in through poetry and art. The public can enter the mind of both scientist and artist and find a way into increasingly complex endeavours, coming away with an emotional link to new concepts and prompting fresh engagement with some of the most existential questions of our time. How did we get here and how do we go forward? The scientists who put their mark on the Fingertip Galaxy knew intuitively that they wanted to be part of that unified future.