Monday, September 13, 2010
Other Planets on Earth (2)
Over the years we have found another planet on Earth. During our travels we discovered the sister planet of Polifemo, once in December 1984, and again in February 1984. Its name is Iguazú. I am convinced that it has to be Polifemo’s mundo hermano because it’s a place of rain forest, water and a Roger Dean’s type of landscaping. It is a world of falling water surrounded by the dense vegetation of the most southerly finger of the matto grosso. Those persons who saw Robert De Niro and Jeremy Irons in “The Mission” would have had the opportunity to have a glimpse of this other unique planet on Earth. Of course, it is much more accessible than the Planet Puna. Sitting on the edge of the infamous so-called triple frontier, it can be easily reached by paved highways from Argentina, Brazil and Paraguay. It even has its own international airport and lots of five-star hotels.
Nevertheless its greatest attraction is its spectacle of sound and fury coming from its myriad of falling waters in the midst of its jungle’s dark heart. The breadth of the falls is over a mile and half long. Over 275 different cascades drop over the 90 meter basalt cliff of its U-shaped canyon, ranging from small transparent veils to the thundering chaos of the “Devil’s Throat.” On sunny days each fall can supply brilliant rainbows and the wet rainforest that envelops this planet is full of exuberant flora and fauna that are a continuing inspiration for artists looking for exo-biotic life forms.
From the Brazilian side supplies an incredible wide angle vista that spans over 180 degrees. No where on Planet Earth can so many different falling bodies of water be viewed at the same time. From the Argentine side, by means of special walk-ways, visitors are able to stand at the head of over 200 different falls on their walk through the Iguazú jungle while surrounded on all sides by the sound of surging water as it plunges over the edge right at your feet. Unfortunately at the time there were no blue skinned na’vi’s to be seen, and so far obtainium has not been discovered. Perhaps somebody has come across a mother tree but for obvious reasons no one is talking. Maybe you should come and see for yourselves.
Nevertheless its greatest attraction is its spectacle of sound and fury coming from its myriad of falling waters in the midst of its jungle’s dark heart. The breadth of the falls is over a mile and half long. Over 275 different cascades drop over the 90 meter basalt cliff of its U-shaped canyon, ranging from small transparent veils to the thundering chaos of the “Devil’s Throat.” On sunny days each fall can supply brilliant rainbows and the wet rainforest that envelops this planet is full of exuberant flora and fauna that are a continuing inspiration for artists looking for exo-biotic life forms.
From the Brazilian side supplies an incredible wide angle vista that spans over 180 degrees. No where on Planet Earth can so many different falling bodies of water be viewed at the same time. From the Argentine side, by means of special walk-ways, visitors are able to stand at the head of over 200 different falls on their walk through the Iguazú jungle while surrounded on all sides by the sound of surging water as it plunges over the edge right at your feet. Unfortunately at the time there were no blue skinned na’vi’s to be seen, and so far obtainium has not been discovered. Perhaps somebody has come across a mother tree but for obvious reasons no one is talking. Maybe you should come and see for yourselves.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Other Planets on Earth
In April of 1997, Dory and I went to the Province of Salta to ride on “El Tren a las Nubes.” The construction of this particular rail line, officially designated Ramal (Track) C-14, was started in 1920 and was designed and built under the leadership of an American named Richard Maury. It suffered all kinds of stops and starts, mainly caused by the political upheavals of the 30’s and 40’s, and was finally finished in 1949 during the first presidency of Juan Perón. The original feasibility study which was started back in 1890, was to build a railroad that would link up the Atlantic in the south of Brazil with Pacific in the north of Chile. The main challenge was to make it over Los Andes which would require laying track at an altitude of 14,000 ft. The transcontinental railway was never completed because of the political and institutional turbulence that reigned throughout South America in the early part of the 20th Century. Nevertheless, the city of Salta, the capital of the province of the same name, was indeed connected to the Pacific port of Antofagasta, in Chile. The tour train ride takes all day covering over 220 kms. up to a place called Polvorillo, and then back. The city of Salta is at 4300 ft., and the turnaround point up on la puna (the high plateau) has an altitude of about 13,000 ft. On the way up the train crosses 21 bridges and 13 trestles, goes through 12 tunnels and uses 2 curly-cues and an ingenious “backtrack” to climb the required 9,000 ft. without a grapple or “claw” system. All the passenger cars have oxygen tubes and paramedics are on hand for those who have adverse reactions to the high altitude.
In some ways this ride is like a trip to another planet. The last stop before arriving at the turnaround is the mining tpown of San Antonio de los Cobres, altitude, 12,000 feet. As I walked away from the train an looked around, it struck me that if Mars baring the differences in gravity, had a little more atmosphere, and a little more surface water then I could have been standing on the Red Planet. During the day you are warned to wear hats and sun glasses to protect yourself from the naturally low solar filter. If you are staying overnight then a heavy wool poncho is highly recommended to fend off the sharp drop in the air temperature. San Antonio is the most important town on the route which can also be reached by car. It has a resident population of around 6,000 Kollas, the tribal name of the largest group of the local natives. Thin air, no humidity, only artificial shade, and substantially lower air resistance for futbol games. Of course, for centuries the locals have totally adapted themselves to these conditions. You see them literally run up and down hill paths in order to sell their wares to those gawking turistas del tren. It goes without saying that naves espaciales would not be out of place in these landscapes.
So what are we waiting for to try and adapt to adverse conditions on other planets. I have no doubt that there are other planets on Earth where we can test ourselves. It’s just a question of looking around. High mountain ranges are a great place to start. I have seen anther planet on Earth.
In some ways this ride is like a trip to another planet. The last stop before arriving at the turnaround is the mining tpown of San Antonio de los Cobres, altitude, 12,000 feet. As I walked away from the train an looked around, it struck me that if Mars baring the differences in gravity, had a little more atmosphere, and a little more surface water then I could have been standing on the Red Planet. During the day you are warned to wear hats and sun glasses to protect yourself from the naturally low solar filter. If you are staying overnight then a heavy wool poncho is highly recommended to fend off the sharp drop in the air temperature. San Antonio is the most important town on the route which can also be reached by car. It has a resident population of around 6,000 Kollas, the tribal name of the largest group of the local natives. Thin air, no humidity, only artificial shade, and substantially lower air resistance for futbol games. Of course, for centuries the locals have totally adapted themselves to these conditions. You see them literally run up and down hill paths in order to sell their wares to those gawking turistas del tren. It goes without saying that naves espaciales would not be out of place in these landscapes.
So what are we waiting for to try and adapt to adverse conditions on other planets. I have no doubt that there are other planets on Earth where we can test ourselves. It’s just a question of looking around. High mountain ranges are a great place to start. I have seen anther planet on Earth.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Space Art 5-- What’s a spaceship look like?
From where did the shape of a spaceship originate? In the movies and on TV, I guess it was Mélièse who came up with the original form in the shape of an enlarged artillery shell to describe Verne’s lunar lander. The Flash Gordon and Buck Rodgers series of the 30’s kept the basic shape, added the fins, the forward shooting cannons, and the concept that it could be landed and taken off like a whacky sled. It did have a cool sliding door hatch! Then along came the finned flying bomb that after Werner’s V-2, become the SOP rocket all the way to Apollo 11 and beyond. This was quite evident with the vehicles portrayed in “Rocketship XM” and “Destination Moon,” both of 1950. It would suffer retro-alterations as artists, designers, engineers and movie producers tried to take an aircraft back out into space. This concept was best illustrated in the rocket plane built in “When Worlds Collide,” in 1951. Nevertheless, this first concept of the atmosphere penetrating aerodynamic foil probably reached its highest point with the George Pal’s “Conquest of Space” in 1956. Simultaneously an animated version for “The World of Walt Disney” was launched by Von Braun, visualized by Chesley Bonestell, and distributed by Walt Disney. I believe that it was in the 60’s that the ideas of the flying bottle and the modified space plane were slowly replaced by the concept of a vehicle that would never have to land on a planetary surface.
However, with the help of the barrage of satellites that followed Sputnik 1, a new concept for interplanetary and interstellar vehicles slowly crept into view. Never ending orbits along with the feasibility of self-sustaining human space colonies eliminated the necessity of romantic spaceports to handle deep space traffic. Forever doomed to never touch land like the cursed Flying Dutchman, aerodynamics and winged airfoils were left on the drawing board. Perhaps the first massive public view of this new concept was the Star Trek series that began in 1966 showing the Enterprise being permanently relegated to interstellar voyages. In 1968, Clark’s USS Discovery in Kubrick’s “2001, A Space Odessey,” would smack the general movie public’s eye furthering the idea of a non-rocket spaceship. This was followed by Trumble’s flying forest in the self-contained hydroponics farm in “Silent Running,” in 1971. Uncovered machinery, globes of all shapes, cylinders, and different kinds of tanks, all strung together like elaborate constructions, surreal erector sets, or floating oil refineries started to make their appearance. We all remember the deep space ore freighter, the Nostromo, of “Alien” in 1979. Even the operatic “Star Wars” epic while largely retaining the romantic rocket-plane surface-to-space vehicle, showed signs of radical design changes, as in the “Millennium Falcon,” the bad guy TIE Fighters, and the good guy X-Wing Fighters.
As we all know, a space vehicle’s purpose is threefold. First it must safely contain, sustain and protect human life as long as possible, preferably indefinitely. Second it must be able to go precisely where its crew and inhabitants desire. And finally it must travel as fast as its propulsion technology allows. As long as it stays in space, its final design only has to consider these three premises. On its design our only limits for a spaceship are time and technology. And for time and technology we have our imaginations. And as in all things some imaginations are more imaginative than others. Anyway, I’m having fun.
However, with the help of the barrage of satellites that followed Sputnik 1, a new concept for interplanetary and interstellar vehicles slowly crept into view. Never ending orbits along with the feasibility of self-sustaining human space colonies eliminated the necessity of romantic spaceports to handle deep space traffic. Forever doomed to never touch land like the cursed Flying Dutchman, aerodynamics and winged airfoils were left on the drawing board. Perhaps the first massive public view of this new concept was the Star Trek series that began in 1966 showing the Enterprise being permanently relegated to interstellar voyages. In 1968, Clark’s USS Discovery in Kubrick’s “2001, A Space Odessey,” would smack the general movie public’s eye furthering the idea of a non-rocket spaceship. This was followed by Trumble’s flying forest in the self-contained hydroponics farm in “Silent Running,” in 1971. Uncovered machinery, globes of all shapes, cylinders, and different kinds of tanks, all strung together like elaborate constructions, surreal erector sets, or floating oil refineries started to make their appearance. We all remember the deep space ore freighter, the Nostromo, of “Alien” in 1979. Even the operatic “Star Wars” epic while largely retaining the romantic rocket-plane surface-to-space vehicle, showed signs of radical design changes, as in the “Millennium Falcon,” the bad guy TIE Fighters, and the good guy X-Wing Fighters.
As we all know, a space vehicle’s purpose is threefold. First it must safely contain, sustain and protect human life as long as possible, preferably indefinitely. Second it must be able to go precisely where its crew and inhabitants desire. And finally it must travel as fast as its propulsion technology allows. As long as it stays in space, its final design only has to consider these three premises. On its design our only limits for a spaceship are time and technology. And for time and technology we have our imaginations. And as in all things some imaginations are more imaginative than others. Anyway, I’m having fun.
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Space Art 4--- “Granjas de Naves”
What if space ships could be grown instead of built? Up to now and into the near future our manned space vehicles will be constructed from designed components made from diverse materials. Everything will be fabricated separately in space or on the surface of a planet or a moon, and then fit back together to make the construction work as planned. This is the way we have been building our transportation and habitat for many centuries. However, what if through controlled genetics and robotics, the whole working ship could be designed and then grown to specification…like an enormous and complex plant. Elements, minerals, compounds and nutrients could be genetically engineered to develop into these vehicles that would take man between the stars. You could grow everything from propulsion systems to hulls to living habitats. They would be self-repairing, and could be designed to better themselves in their functions and to improve themselves with use. They could be programmed to grow in size and complexity under the control of their resident populations. And they could be living worlds for their thriving crews.
They might be able to grow from a prepared surface on a planet or reengineered asteroid where they would be supplied and fed with the programmed ingredients required for its gestation. They would have capillary like networks for internal power, a solid structure for its power plant, internal farms for food supplies, along with all of the necessary structures and services to maintain its population alive, comfortable and prosperous while travelling in deep space. In fact they would be programmed to grow in size along with the ship’s population. Here are a couple of ideas on what my imagination has come up with concerning theses unique “farms.”
They might be able to grow from a prepared surface on a planet or reengineered asteroid where they would be supplied and fed with the programmed ingredients required for its gestation. They would have capillary like networks for internal power, a solid structure for its power plant, internal farms for food supplies, along with all of the necessary structures and services to maintain its population alive, comfortable and prosperous while travelling in deep space. In fact they would be programmed to grow in size along with the ship’s population. Here are a couple of ideas on what my imagination has come up with concerning theses unique “farms.”
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Space Art 3—Me! A Spacenik?
I saw “Rocketship X-M” (1950) and “Destination Moon” (1950), when I was in the 3rd or 4th grade. It was the first time I remember visualizing going to the Moon, and even to Mars. This was one of the reasons I started off with Space Art. I distinctly remember man in space never struck me as pure fantasy or romantic adventure, but rather a portrayal of something we humans eventually would get about to doing. In another decade we were apparently on our way into space. All of the pre-dawn sittings in front of the old Magnavox b&w that generally ended in a scrub, did nothing but cement my conviction that man was doing what we were supposed to do. For me the Moon landings and the Spacelab were obvious markers on the road to the stars. And then in the next decade it slowly became apparent that we, mankind, weren’t going any farther than a low orbit. And the years went by and the human being never went any further than couple of hundred miles.
Have we collectively come down with a case of cold feet with the challenge of having to finally go outside…into space permanently? Recently Steven Hawkins echoed the words of Heinlein, Asimov and many other others when he said (again) something like, “if we (us humans) don’t go out there somewhere (remember Kirk?), then we’ll probably have a good chance of becoming extinct within the next couple of centuries.” He named a few of the bummer events that could do us in like asteroids, comets, plagues, nukes, overpopulation, famine, climate, pollution and others. To me this is a very strong medicine to prod us back into putting manned space exploration very high up on our list of things to do right now. So why do we keep putting it off? Why do we immediately say it’s too expensive and that it’s more important to pour out huge sums to save mishandled financial institutions and misbegotten military operations half way around the globe? Is this unending argument about humans going into space fuelled by political expediency in the face growing economic crisis? Or is this prolonged discussion caused by collective corporate fear of shifting power bases and endangered privileges?
When it comes down to it, we humans have been leaving the nest ever since we looked down out of the tree. Or the only way to look at the future is by looking at our past. The Earth is an island and it is surrounded by hostile space. And as far as we know we live on the only inhabited island in this neighborhood. Up to now our island experience on the surface of our lonely planet has had to deal with water and its ever present climate. Most of our island people cultures have learned how to navigate and dominate (up to a certain extent) the water and weather that surrounds them. As a race we have been doing this for quite a few centuries; leaving our islands to explore and expand beyond the horizons of our local beaches. One of these island cultures became a powerful empire. Others crossed vast stretches of uncharted water and populated new islands. Others hopped from island to island in dugouts to eventually populate continents. We have accumulated centuries of experience developing hulls, oars, rudders, sails, cordage, maps, instruments, steam propulsion, metallurgy, and nuclear engines. Now this experience can now be quickly applied to our vast industrial and technological resources. Today were are capable of sending humans to the Moon, the Asteroids, the other three Inner Planets, and even as far out as Jupiter and Saturn. And we have started getting ready to go ever since Jules came up with the idea of digging a hole to place a gigantic cannon in the middle of Florida over 150 years ago. As you can see I’ve been in Space for quite a while.
Have we collectively come down with a case of cold feet with the challenge of having to finally go outside…into space permanently? Recently Steven Hawkins echoed the words of Heinlein, Asimov and many other others when he said (again) something like, “if we (us humans) don’t go out there somewhere (remember Kirk?), then we’ll probably have a good chance of becoming extinct within the next couple of centuries.” He named a few of the bummer events that could do us in like asteroids, comets, plagues, nukes, overpopulation, famine, climate, pollution and others. To me this is a very strong medicine to prod us back into putting manned space exploration very high up on our list of things to do right now. So why do we keep putting it off? Why do we immediately say it’s too expensive and that it’s more important to pour out huge sums to save mishandled financial institutions and misbegotten military operations half way around the globe? Is this unending argument about humans going into space fuelled by political expediency in the face growing economic crisis? Or is this prolonged discussion caused by collective corporate fear of shifting power bases and endangered privileges?
When it comes down to it, we humans have been leaving the nest ever since we looked down out of the tree. Or the only way to look at the future is by looking at our past. The Earth is an island and it is surrounded by hostile space. And as far as we know we live on the only inhabited island in this neighborhood. Up to now our island experience on the surface of our lonely planet has had to deal with water and its ever present climate. Most of our island people cultures have learned how to navigate and dominate (up to a certain extent) the water and weather that surrounds them. As a race we have been doing this for quite a few centuries; leaving our islands to explore and expand beyond the horizons of our local beaches. One of these island cultures became a powerful empire. Others crossed vast stretches of uncharted water and populated new islands. Others hopped from island to island in dugouts to eventually populate continents. We have accumulated centuries of experience developing hulls, oars, rudders, sails, cordage, maps, instruments, steam propulsion, metallurgy, and nuclear engines. Now this experience can now be quickly applied to our vast industrial and technological resources. Today were are capable of sending humans to the Moon, the Asteroids, the other three Inner Planets, and even as far out as Jupiter and Saturn. And we have started getting ready to go ever since Jules came up with the idea of digging a hole to place a gigantic cannon in the middle of Florida over 150 years ago. As you can see I’ve been in Space for quite a while.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Space Art 2-- Names
On titles…for the Space Art, after some internal debate and literally no consulting, I have decided that each work requires an individual title. First I thought about using just numbers and letters which would have been much simpler and uncomplicated but too much like a code. This might have been an easier way to organize them. Nevertheless I don’t feel like a machine. To me all works tend to take on a personality, an individual identity. They remind you of more than just a finished exercise in color and composition. Each one fixes passages of specific time and or brings back particular states of the mind. So I decided to launch them like ships…no champagne or broken bottles but with a phrase or name to call them by. And I have a little fun in the process…
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Getting started...otra vez.
From an early age I have always been attracted to the visual arts. Even though the obligations of supporting a family led me into the corporate fields of marketing and sales support in several Direct Sales companies such as Avon, Amway and Shaklee, over the years I have never stopped painting, drawing and shooting pictures. At Fullerton my curriculum included the fine arts, graphic design and photography, and later in Argentina I studied painting with Raúl Russo, Domingo Mendez Terrero, and Miguel Warnes. Until now, along with my wife who in her own right is an accomplished portrait artist and painter, we have only participated in a handful of collective exhibitions. There never seemed to be enough time or the right circumstances to seek opportunities to take our work to professional or commercial levels. However, it appears that the time has arrived to bring these works out into a more public environment. And I’ve decided to show off a little bit of everything
To get the ball and the blog rolling, I'll start with something that's both old and new. Space Art
Visiting memory lane, I sent to a good friend a file containing some juvenile work to compare with a few more recent space works. And my buen amigo who just happens to work at NASA’s Ames Facility, pointed out that maybe it was time to launch into new program. So late last year, HainArt came into existence. Obviously I had grown up in the splendorous light of the pioneering years of the U.S. Space Program. Coupled with those wee-hour wake up calls during the early sixties filled with many scrubs and those heart pounding triumphs, I consumed and collected large quantities of Sci-Fi’s Great Generation…Asimov, Clarke, Bradbury, Heinlein, Herbert, Niven, Harrison, Le Guin, Vance, C.S. Lewis, Wells, Sturgeon, de Camp, Leiber and on to many many others. At the end of the decade during another one of those early mornings, I watched Armstrong come down the ladder on that fuzzy B&W screen with my only months old son sitting on my lap. And I still have the hope to be around when we go back.
So it really isn’t really that strange that while paintings (abstracts and landscapes) have piled up, I did produce a small quantity of “space art” illustrations in acrylics and ink following a path leading directly from childhood notebooks. They are a series of “naves” or perhaps “spaceclippers,” vaguely inspired at first by Stanley Bonstell and Life’s coverage of NASA’s first triumphs and disasters. Later I was struck by Roger Dean’s work for the the Yes record jackets and especially for his creation of Jon Anderson’s Olias of Sunhillow (1974). And finally Joe Haldeman’s descriptions of a spaceship in his “The Forever War” (1976), pushed the last button. The earliest of these works date back to around 1980. Only ink on paper they slowly evolved into full color acrylics, and the others have followed slowly during the next years.
Perhaps it is time that they should be allowed to sail out into the open. So being a new first time blogger, here goes the first timid launch.
To get the ball and the blog rolling, I'll start with something that's both old and new. Space Art
Visiting memory lane, I sent to a good friend a file containing some juvenile work to compare with a few more recent space works. And my buen amigo who just happens to work at NASA’s Ames Facility, pointed out that maybe it was time to launch into new program. So late last year, HainArt came into existence. Obviously I had grown up in the splendorous light of the pioneering years of the U.S. Space Program. Coupled with those wee-hour wake up calls during the early sixties filled with many scrubs and those heart pounding triumphs, I consumed and collected large quantities of Sci-Fi’s Great Generation…Asimov, Clarke, Bradbury, Heinlein, Herbert, Niven, Harrison, Le Guin, Vance, C.S. Lewis, Wells, Sturgeon, de Camp, Leiber and on to many many others. At the end of the decade during another one of those early mornings, I watched Armstrong come down the ladder on that fuzzy B&W screen with my only months old son sitting on my lap. And I still have the hope to be around when we go back.
So it really isn’t really that strange that while paintings (abstracts and landscapes) have piled up, I did produce a small quantity of “space art” illustrations in acrylics and ink following a path leading directly from childhood notebooks. They are a series of “naves” or perhaps “spaceclippers,” vaguely inspired at first by Stanley Bonstell and Life’s coverage of NASA’s first triumphs and disasters. Later I was struck by Roger Dean’s work for the the Yes record jackets and especially for his creation of Jon Anderson’s Olias of Sunhillow (1974). And finally Joe Haldeman’s descriptions of a spaceship in his “The Forever War” (1976), pushed the last button. The earliest of these works date back to around 1980. Only ink on paper they slowly evolved into full color acrylics, and the others have followed slowly during the next years.
Perhaps it is time that they should be allowed to sail out into the open. So being a new first time blogger, here goes the first timid launch.
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