Opinion: Our ignorance of eternity

Published in the Mountainview

There is in the heavens now a symbol of divine disapproval, a harbinger of doom, a messenger from the gods, a comet. Described by one astronomer on NBC's "Today" show as "an iceberg, twenty-three miles wide, hurtling through space, disintegrating," the Hale-Bopp Comet is now visible to the naked eye.

It is in the north-by-northwestern sky both in the morning and the evening, and will be visible at least through mid-April, if not later in that month. It will pass relatively close to Earth, within about 100 million miles. This is not as close as Halley's Comet came eleven years ago, but is closer than most comets come to our planet. Detected about two years ago by two astronomers (Hale and Bopp), working separately, it is bringing to us knowledge about the universe's very beginnings.

Comets are thought by astronomers to have been created at the moment of the Big Bang. Some of them, like the one whose crater was recently found off the Yucatan Peninsula in Mexico, crashed into planets. Some have no doubt been sucked into stars, and others, like Halley’s, are in regular orbits which are predictable and observable. Hale-Bopp, on the other hand, is a survivor.

It has no known orbit, no explicable reason for coming into our solar system now (as opposed to sooner, or later), and will leave our solar system for parts of the universe we know nothing about. It is not expected to return for nearly 5,000 years, by the best predictions of Earth's scientists.

Comets have an odd place in human history. They have always been seen as messengers from other times, other places, other people. Even now, in the age of ultra-rational science, comets are fossils from the Big Bang, carrying clues to the origin of the universe. Centuries ago, comets drove icicles of fear into the hearts of peasants and academics alike. They were signs of certain doom, crop failures, unhappy gods (or God).

Many things feared long ago we now can explain and study intellectually. There is, however, sornethirig very deep about a comet. No matter their origins, or their chemical composition, the appearance and disappearance of comets throughout history has always reminded humans that there is something larger than this planet, even than this solar system. Whether we are the sole sentient beings in the universe or not, we cannot escape the reality of the immenseness of space.

Hale-Bopp, when it returns, if it ever does (a lot can happen in 5,000 years traveling all over the universe - just as Arthur Dent), will be the best-traveled physical body we know of. It will have gone to more places in the known and unknown universe than any space probe from any solar system. It will have reached distances beyond radio contact with Earth, beyond sight of places from which you could see the Sun.

We can explain a lot about Hale-Bopp, and describe it in meticulous detail. But we must always admit that there will always be things we do not know, and things we cannot explain. Comets remind us of this. They appear overhead, move through the visible heavens, and disappear. We know why this happens — gravity. We do not, though, know all of what it means, and we never will.

Comets are a sign of something we have come to truly fear these days: human ignorance, impotence, and insignificance. Hale-Bopp, as an unexpected and unpredictable heavenly body, forces us to confront what we do not know, what we cannot know, and accept that the universe (or the gods, or God) is larger than we are, here on Earth. We must deal with this fear of the unknown and remember that there will always be an unknown.

Franklin D. Roosevelt said in his First Inaugural Address, "The only thing to fear is fear itself." We often try to forget even that. Hale-Bopp, the oddly-named visitor from other worlds, other galaxies, and Beyond, signifies to us all that we must conquer fear, because we cannot dispel the cosmic ignorance from which fear comes, and to which we are, ultimately, doomed.

Opinion: Larger than Life

Published in the Mountainview

I now have the opportunity to experience my own art on the scale on which I experience others'. Five of my photographs now hang framed on the walls of my apartment, next to photographs by friends, commercial art, and maps of various parts of the world. At art galleries and museums I see photos blown up and matted, mounted on the wall.

My images are now in that context. The decision to do this was very personal: I want to be reminded of my visual artistry every time I walk into my living room and my bedroom. I want to remember that I am a photographer and to see some of my own best work hanging with what I consider to be that of others. It puts me in context, reminds me of my place, and, in the end, makes me smile.

I had a hard time choosing which of my thousands of images to blow up and put on my wall, for me to see, and for my visitors to look at. I wanted to choose something people would admire, but of which I was also very proud. I wanted to show off what I consider to be my best work. They will not be my best-selling images, nor my most universally accessible. They will, however, be my first favorites.

My own reaction has been the most interesting. Others have made the appropriate comments: "Oh. I like it," "It's so...orange,” and so on. I, on the other hand, see something new in each image each time I look at it. I remember something more about the rest of the scene, outside the photograph, or something someone said to me just before or after I made the picture. More often than not, I remember what I felt when I made the photograph.

I explore, each time I see a photograph, the feeling the artist had when she made the image. I try to feel what she felt, to figure out what she left out of the image, to figure out why there is a dark spot in the lower right corner. I have always done this, with photographs, paintings, lithographs, and so on. I have never before been able to study my own work.

I find, happily, that I can learn more from myself than I thought I could, I also have found a lot of room for improvement. variation, and learning. I can pay close attention to details I would have missed in a slide show.

This self-examination and evaluation of my own work is art excellent barometer of my mindset and ability at the moment. It permits me to understand more concretely where I am and what I am doing with myself. The art serves the artist, even as I create it.

It gives me hope that visual communication can still have this effect on me and on others; in an increasingly visual age expressive images are in high demand. Expression of feelings, ideas, and thoughts are at least as important as expression of facts, figures, and non-fiction. The world, shrinking and even closing in a bit, is becoming more surreal, more abstract. Art of all media are expressing this feeling.

The exploration of the artist's mind and heart have been the topic of much discussion and debate for centuries. Entering that dialogue is important and energizing. It affirms the relationship between the self and the surroundings, and enforces respect between the two. Not without risk, it invites not only praise but criticism and misinterpretation. That is part of the bargain: the art is left to speak for itself. Its effect is never predictable, and the artist will never react the same way to her own art as she does to others', or as others do to hers.

Perceptions of the world are dangerous: they reveal ourselves below the surface. Images created by artists, like words spilled by writers onto the page, give away sometimes more than they reclaim.

The relationship between an artist and the public is never clearly defined. I invite you to visit my walls and see for yourself, and to share with me your thoughts on the world I see.