Ultimately, starships will be grown, not built. The staggering information content and capacity for building macro structures from molecular code--currently known to us only in the DNA molecule--will not be ignored. As DNA grows life from inanimate matter, starships--entire self-contained, human-population-supporting ecosystems--will be grown from inanimate matter, raw materials harvested from asteroids, comets and planetary moons, grown into systems that can take humanity on interstellar voyages.
If no...well if not all human works go up in flames when the Sun burns out, and that is not _if_ but _when_, because the Sun is a simple chain reaction with a limited chemical fuel source. Long before that happens, though, it is much more likely that a 'civilization killer' asteroid or comet will strike the Earth. The 'safety' of Earth is a modern illusion cobbled together from a 5,000-year written human history that represents only 1 1/000th of the Earth's actual long and calamitous life, in which at least five times more than half of all Earth life has perished in one mass extinction event or another.
So -- it is time to get moving! It is time to learn from Nature how to survive extinction, and how to build systems that can sustain us outside our cradle Earth.
Friday, February 18, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Choir Practice
Choir practice recorded in Durham Cathedral on my audio recorder. It settles down after a minute or so when I take my seat. This is in WMA format, I can't translate it to others while I'm traveling. When I was an undergraduate here, 20 years ago, I didn't spend much time in the cathedral; too busy. The other day, though, I spent half an hour at the crypt of St. Cuthbert and another half at the crypt of St. Bede, the two at opposite ends of the 1,000-year old cathedral.
The cold and dark atmosphere, with a glint of gold here and there, stone underfoot, a candle in a blood-red glass...I remembered a lot of this, deep down from so many cathedrals visited over the years, and here I realized this cavernous space and atmosphere are deep in my bones. They soaked in a long time ago. It seems I have been carrying the essence of this cold, darkling and immense void for a long time, somehow, inside, and I have sought to replicate it while exploring the world outside. It is not entirely welcoming in any conventional sense, but it is in some way home.
Link to WMA audio file.
The cold and dark atmosphere, with a glint of gold here and there, stone underfoot, a candle in a blood-red glass...I remembered a lot of this, deep down from so many cathedrals visited over the years, and here I realized this cavernous space and atmosphere are deep in my bones. They soaked in a long time ago. It seems I have been carrying the essence of this cold, darkling and immense void for a long time, somehow, inside, and I have sought to replicate it while exploring the world outside. It is not entirely welcoming in any conventional sense, but it is in some way home.
Link to WMA audio file.
Monday, January 31, 2011
La Valse & Book Cover Concept
I've been looking for this for some time, and have finally found it! Ravel's 'La Valse';
...and a cover currently being worked with;
Book cover (and book) design is an art in itself; I'm mainly working with Evan to select the cover image on which the text is placed; text font, color etc. decisions are in the hands of the Springer production department.
...and a cover currently being worked with;
Book cover (and book) design is an art in itself; I'm mainly working with Evan to select the cover image on which the text is placed; text font, color etc. decisions are in the hands of the Springer production department.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Huanuco Pampa
Plan view of the architecture of Huanuco Pampa for my textbook; the site was an Inca administrative and military center with a large central plaza for public participation in state ritual and nearly 500 buildings. Among the facilities are nearly 40,000 cubic meters of storage space in the form of state granaries called quollcas. These numbers mean very little for a general impression of things, so for comparsion on the right I've added plan views of Edinburgh Castle, the citadel of Mycenae and a Boeing 747. These give a much better impression of the size of Huanuco Pampa.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Mexica
A Mexica (Aztec) warrior; my copy, in pen and ink on vellum, from the Florentine codex. After scanning the b & w image I worked a bit with color.
The warrior bears a small wicker shield and a wooden club with black obsidian blades inserted on two edges; he wears a jaguar skin costume and wooden helmet with a feather headdress. The military elite, otomi, vowed to never step backwards in battle.
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Bright Moon
I step off the bus and start down the street. It's dark and the stars stand out. I come around a corner and there is the moon, white and giant. "People walked there," I think, trying to imagine the distances. It was a very extended SCUBA dive.
Folded in my pocket are Kip's two poems and Carrie-Ann's pitch letter: I am walking to Carrie-Ann's for our weekly meeting. Aside from a 6-month absence, I've done this for five years; Wednesday night is writing group.
I linger a bit, outside; I'm looking at the moon, trying to absorb something from its light. OK, enough; time to go in.
Inside Carrie-Ann's six people examine Kip's poems in excruciating detail. "I dunno, this line seems condescending...." We work as a group. Some people have come and gone but the constitution of the group has remained essentially the same. We have poets, realists, memoirists, fiction writers.
"I dunno, I think this is a cliche..." We jab and jibe, we have fun, we talk about how the work influences us, or not, we laugh and people talk over one another sometimes. A lot of what we say says as much about each of us as what we mean to say about Kip's poems. We toil over every word and punctuation mark like engineers preparing a deep space probe before liftoff. We might as well be wearing sterile suits. This attention is exactly what I love.
A slice of cheese, some crackers, some comments on the ridiculous rewording of Huckleberry Finn, and down we dive into Carrie-Ann's book pitch letter. "This might not play too well..." someone says, and this is nicely refuted with logic--actually it should play very well in the hand of an Acquisitions Editor.
I sort of slide away, sometimes, watching Bruce's animated physical style, and Tracy's folded position. Tola sits like a professional; Kip's sits carefully; Carrie-Ann is in the lotus position with her laptop; David leans back but is exploding with interest; and I wonder what I communicate physically, and I think on the fragility of groups, and the integrity of ours. Half of this is showing up, I think, the other is being present, really taking time to examine the work. We all do both parts, and that is a wonderful thing to see. Five years we've been at this, learning each other.
On the way to Carrie's the moon was so beautiful that I'd thought, "This is the best moment of my life..."
How could that be, walking alone on a road with a 7-11 coffee in one hand, and a stale burrito in the other?
Folded in my pocket are Kip's two poems and Carrie-Ann's pitch letter: I am walking to Carrie-Ann's for our weekly meeting. Aside from a 6-month absence, I've done this for five years; Wednesday night is writing group.
I linger a bit, outside; I'm looking at the moon, trying to absorb something from its light. OK, enough; time to go in.
Inside Carrie-Ann's six people examine Kip's poems in excruciating detail. "I dunno, this line seems condescending...." We work as a group. Some people have come and gone but the constitution of the group has remained essentially the same. We have poets, realists, memoirists, fiction writers.
"I dunno, I think this is a cliche..." We jab and jibe, we have fun, we talk about how the work influences us, or not, we laugh and people talk over one another sometimes. A lot of what we say says as much about each of us as what we mean to say about Kip's poems. We toil over every word and punctuation mark like engineers preparing a deep space probe before liftoff. We might as well be wearing sterile suits. This attention is exactly what I love.
A slice of cheese, some crackers, some comments on the ridiculous rewording of Huckleberry Finn, and down we dive into Carrie-Ann's book pitch letter. "This might not play too well..." someone says, and this is nicely refuted with logic--actually it should play very well in the hand of an Acquisitions Editor.
I sort of slide away, sometimes, watching Bruce's animated physical style, and Tracy's folded position. Tola sits like a professional; Kip's sits carefully; Carrie-Ann is in the lotus position with her laptop; David leans back but is exploding with interest; and I wonder what I communicate physically, and I think on the fragility of groups, and the integrity of ours. Half of this is showing up, I think, the other is being present, really taking time to examine the work. We all do both parts, and that is a wonderful thing to see. Five years we've been at this, learning each other.
On the way to Carrie's the moon was so beautiful that I'd thought, "This is the best moment of my life..."
How could that be, walking alone on a road with a 7-11 coffee in one hand, and a stale burrito in the other?
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