Sunday, August 22, 2010

“Etoile prisonnière prise au gel de l’instant”

I want to be a starduster! I read an article in the New York Times a few weeks ago about interstellar dust particles that may have been collected during a NASA mission—and haven’t been able to get the stardust out of my head. So, NASA sent a spacecraft on a mission to collect dust particles during an encounter with a comet in hopes that some of the particles might turn out to be interstellar dust particles—potentially the building blocks of life. But the problem is that these particles are really, really tiny, there A LOT of them, and the scope of the search was overwhelming. 700,000 fields of aerogel—the whispy concoction that functioned as cosmic dust collector—would each need to be visually inspected for the “impacts” that signify these particles, so the scientists decided to ask for help. And that’s where I come in. Anyone can get on the site, go through a tutorial, take a test, and if you qualify you can take part in the research (http://stardustathome.ssl.berkeley.edu/). If you find one of the interstellar-dust-particle-impacts, not only do you get to name the particle, but your name will appear as co-author on the scientific paper announcing the particle’s discovery. http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/03/science/space/03stardust.html?_r=1&emc=eta1

The title quote was encountered recently while reading Bachelard’s “The Poetics of Space” and was simply too perfect. Translation: “Imprisoned star caught in the instant’s freezing.”


Friday, January 1, 2010

The year's doors open...



A few lines from a poem mentioned in Maps of the Imagination by Peter Turchi. Seemed appropriate for today. Also, a fantastic "found" image I've had for years (the back reads "a merry xmas to you all from alice and Charlie" and "Little Charlie pulling beans") with an overlay of a diagram taken from An Experiment With Time by JW Dunne (more on that soon). B

January First by Octavio Paz (translation by Elizabeth Bishop)

The year's doors open
like those of language
toward the unknown
Last night you told me:
tomorrow
we shall have to think up signs, sketch a landscape, fabricate a plan
on the double page
of day and paper.
Tomorrow, we shall have to invent,
once more,
the reality of this world.