The show explores the 鈥渞ich iconography of space鈥� (Image: Colin Davison 漏 2013 BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art)
Visions of a new space race dominate a group show at the BALTIC 39 gallery in the UK, but sometimes the wonder of space is lost amid the practicalities
Fifteen thousand years ago, someone painted 29 dots with great care on to the wall of one of the Lascaux caves in south-west France. It is one of the oldest lunar calendars we know of, revealing the reverence that our ancestors had for this familiar, comforting rhythm in the night sky.
Advertisement
Since then legions of poets, philosophers, writers, musicians and artists have been inspired by the moon. Gradually, though, as our knowledge of this rocky lump has grown, so our feelings have changed . Now, more than 40 years after the last crewed moon landing, an exhibition at the BALTIC 39 gallery in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, , explores some of the dilemmas we face as humans venture further into space.
Joseph Popper鈥檚 The One-Way Ticket (video, print and sculpture), envisions a solitary man鈥檚 journey deeper and deeper into space until, eventually, he dies. Clamping the headphones on, I immediately feel an eerie chill. My head is filled with a rumbling, whining hiss. A brilliant white light fills my field of view and the walls gently rotate. A banana floats by, and for a moment I catch a glimpse of the Earth out of one of the round portholes. Some feet come into view, swaddled in black socks.
Then the face belonging to the feet emerges: a young, clean-shaven dark-haired man, wearing a blue jumpsuit and munching something from a tin. He is staring aimlessly, and he looks bored. Later we catch him again, his body strapped to the wall while he brushes his teeth. A beard has grown in the meantime. He opens a cupboard and is faced with row upon row of tins of tuna, which he proceeds to open and eat, wearing a glazed expression.
Mission map
Back home this solitary astronaut will achieve glory and immortality as the man who spent the longest time in space and travelled the furthest into the void. But first he has to suffer the monotony of a 712-day journey. A lithographed mission map plots bleak waymarkers along the route: soon after passing the moon he eats his last ration of fresh fruit; after passing Mars the Earth disappears from view; finally, somewhere in the asteroid belt, 149 million kilometres from Earth, he expires.
Katy Cole thinks about space tourism and captures some of the concern surrounding exploitation of the moon鈥檚 resources. Cole鈥檚 fragmented collage sprays precious minerals across the wall, juxtaposing them with portly trains of tourists, hauling themselves up to viewpoints, ticking off their list of things to see on their 鈥渉oliday of a lifetime鈥�.
Some of the 30-odd works by the 20 artists featured conjure up a future in which everyone has a slice of space. Hefin Jones pictures a Welsh Space Campaign, complete with Welsh wool, while in Afronauts, Spanish artist Cristina de Middel brings Zambia鈥檚 forgotten space programme (started by a schoolteacher in 1964) back to life in spectacular photographs.
But for me, the exhibition鈥檚 most mesmerising part was a small glass case, containing four meteorite samples belonging to retired biologist George Wake (he鈥檒l be ). These unassuming, sometimes dull-looking lumps of rock, some no bigger than a fingernail, contain memories about the birth of our solar system and the moon鈥檚 formation.
Little room for mystery
The exhibition鈥檚 more powerful moments did make me ponder how the moon might be exploited: as a mining enterprise, as a springboard for more ambitious space exploration, and as a destination for tourists. But I was disappointed that such considerations dominated the works, leaving little room to explore the beauty and mystery of our moon, or why scientists are still eager to gather moon rock today.
We owe our existence to the moon. It stabilises the Earth鈥檚 rotation and helps steady our climate. Etched upon its surface is the history of the early solar system, the key to understanding how planets form, and even clues to how life arose on our planet. Fundamental questions, such as how and when the moon formed (a collision between Earth and another planet around 4.4 billion years ago is the dominant theory), still await answers.
To label and explain everything in these terms would, it鈥檚 true, turn a rich gallery show into a rather thin museum exhibit. It would turn powerful pieces like Popper鈥檚 The One-Way Ticket into mere illustrations. At the same time, George Wake鈥檚 extraordinary meteorite collection cries out for some context; I fear many people will simply glance at it, shrug, and move on.
A smaller but equally thoughtful curation, Arts Catalyst鈥檚 group show on London鈥檚 South Bank earlier this year, hit the selfsame problem. Is China鈥檚 Jade Rabbit rover moon landing the start of a 鈥渕oon rush鈥�? Is India鈥檚 Mangalyaan mission to Mars the start of a new space race? These political questions do matter. Equally important, however, is the sense of wonder and possibility conjured by the thing itself: a clear sky, and a bone-white light.
is on at the BALTIC 39 gallery in Newcastle upon Tyne, UK, until 29 June 2014
