Man-made satellites carry our aspirations into the inky blackness of space. They peer back at us with watchful attention and cast their probing eyes on a seemingly infinite cosmos. Through them we ask “where did we come from?” and “where are we going?”. They form a geometry with us on this Earth that mirrors the perpendicular appeal to “God(s)” that populate our imagination from our earliest recorded histories. I was born in 1957 – shortly before the Soviets launched Sputnik into earth’s orbit. My life’s trajectory parallels that of the satellite industry and these artworks mime my complicated love affair with these bodily objects.
My Sputnik Fails to Launch
From earthy dystopia to heavenly transcendent splendor
If only I could master this Rubicon
Yet my sputnik fails launch
My Splendid Satellite
Tethered companions
Dancing towards celestial harmony
The Artist as a Satellite
Some early satellites (Explorer I for example) were painted with black and white longitudinal stripes (in part) for thermal regulation. The black adsorbed radiation (heat) and the white reflected radiation. This artist is thermoregulating (alternatively labeled – “If I Couldn’t Live Without Love”).
Thirteen Attempts
The U.S. Navy Naval Research Laboratory and, later, NASA attempted to launch 11 “Vanguard Project” satellites into Earth orbit between December, 1957 – late 1958. All but three failed. The first to succeed – Vanguard I (which successfully gained low Earth orbit in March, 1958) was derisively labeled by Nikita Khrushchev “The Grapefruit Satellite” yet it remains the oldest satellite remaining in space (projected to remain there for another 240 years). “Thirteen Attempts” documents an attempted launch of my Vanguard I into space. Thirteen is an unlucky number.
