THE ARC OF SPACE EXPLORATION by Roland Miller

But that was the point. The program’s official title, the Space Transportation System, demonstrates the space shuttle’s purpose—transportation, not deep space exploration. Satellite deployment, microgravity research, and space station construction were the program’s main goals. Though it never arrived at the predicted level of launches per year and cost overrides became the standard, the Space Shuttle program succeeded in its main goals. The Space Shuttle program did fulfill its role in building a space station—the International Space Station.

The International Space Station is criticized for being an expensive endeavor in science research that might be accomplished in less costly ways. The aspects of the station’s research that cannot be effectively duplicated with any other methods include the microgravity environment and investigation of the effects of long-duration spaceflight. Without this research, exploration of Mars and beyond will not be possible.

It impresses me that for 60 years, NASA has been able to maintain a steady approach to space exploration. It is not always to everyone’s liking, and it is slower than everyone had hoped— especially for NASA. But despite the insecurity of congressional funding, changing political imperatives, and shifting societal attitudes, NASA has persevered. We stand at the threshold of a new era in space discovery—commercial space exploration. Time will tell if NASA can maintain its steady progress toward Mars in these uncharted waters of for-profit space exploration.

Opportunities

My photography of space exploration endeavors often presents opportunities to record aspects of the space program I was not focused on at the time. In 1998, while documenting the Space Shuttle program, I had the opportunity to photograph a number of the main sections of the International Space Station while they were being processed in the Space Station Processing Facility (SSPF) at the Kennedy Space Center. It was exciting to see these modules, adaptors, and truss sections that would soon be orbiting the Earth. I returned to photograph more segments at the SSPF in 2010.

In 2009, also while working on Space Shuttle photography, I had the opportunity to photograph the Environmental Control and Life Support Systems Test Facility and the Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory.

Located at NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center, the Environmental Control and Life Support Systems (ECLSS) Test Facility is a set of ISS test modules utilized to develop and analyze the life support systems onboard the International Space Station. These include HVAC, CO 2 scrubbing, the Oxygen Generation System, the much-ballyhooed Water Recovery System that turns astronauts’ urine into drinking water, and more. The Neutral Buoyancy Laboratory (NBL) at NASA’s Johnson Space Center is a basically an underwater version of the International Space Station. Neutral buoyancy training has been utilized to simulate a weightless-like environment for training astronauts since the mid-1960s. The Neutral Buoyancy Lab has been a critical resource in training astronauts for the construction and maintenance of the International Space Station.

I always seize opportunities to make photographs of space exploration equipment and facilities, even if I don’t have a clear use for them at the time. As often happens, the use presents itself— sometimes in amazing ways. At the time I photographed these ISS-related facilities, I had no idea that I would eventually collaborate photographically with an astronaut onboard the ISS. In 1999, I received a phone call from Cady Coleman on my work voicemail. Cady said she was an astronaut staying at the Astronaut Crew Quarters on the Kennedy Space Center. A number of my photographs of abandoned and repurposed space launch and test sites were on display in the crew quarters.

I didn’t know Cady. She had called to say how much she enjoyed my photographs. She went on to say that her husband Josh Simpson was a glass artist. She said that the visual arts were an important part of her life. After I listened to Cady’s voicemail, I called the Astronaut Crew Quarters to try and make contact. By that time, Cady had already returned to Houston.

Fast forward to 2014: I was at the Kennedy Space Center covering the test launch of EFT-1. This was the maiden flight of the Orion capsule on a Delta IV Heavy rocket. NASA sent four astronauts to KSC to work with the press during and after the launch. Cady was one of those four. I introduced myself to her, and she

remembered my photographs. Cady said she wished there were a way I could impart my artistic vision and photographic approach to the astronauts photographing onboard the International Space Station. She literally challenged me to figure out a way to have astronauts see with my photographic eye.

It was a daunting task and an amazing opportunity. How can you share your personal vision and approach with others in a remote and inaccessible (to me) location? More importantly, what was it that made my work stand out to Cady, and could I replicate that effect within the parameters of a microgravity space environment? And let me be clear, the images I see created from the ISS are typically spectacular. Many of the astronauts are extremely talented photographers. It was indeed a challenge.

I began by examining what was unique about my photographic style. For 25 years, I had been photographically documenting and interpreting the deactivated space launch and test facilities around the United States in a project entitled Abandoned in Place. The main attribute that makes the work I have done with the historic launch and test sites unique is the dual documentary and abstract approach that I adopted. In an effort to tell a broader story with the images from Abandoned in Place, I opted to approach the subject matter in a somewhat schizophrenic style by making straightforward compositions of these early space facilities along with abstracted details that describe the nuances, colors, and content.

In addition, I am a color fanatic. Color in the images would be important, and the interesting thing about the ISS is that the majority of the interior is white, beige, gray, and black. Colors stand out from the neutral tones that make up the majority of the experiment racks and equipment on the ISS.

This dearth of color became apparent to me during my photography of the ISS modules, adaptors, and trusses in the Space Station Processing Facility in 1998. One of the sections I photographed was the Pressurized Mating Adaptor 3 (PMA 3), which was to be connected to one of the station’s modules and then used for docking crew and supply vehicles. It (like most of the modules and sections) is mostly white, gray, and black. In the SSPF, the PMA was resting on a yellow ground support stand. It had a temporary ring of red tape protecting the module’s connecting surface, and there was a blue cloth pad resting in the adaptor’s tunnel. In front of PMA 3 was an aluminum scaffold, which broke the visual plane into a series of triangles. I immediately thought of the great abstract geometric painter, Piet Mondrian. His use of simple geometric shapes with bold, saturated primary colors stands as an icon of the great abstract painting of the twentieth century. I made my composition with Mondrian in mind. This experience would prove helpful in selecting my ISS interior compositions. In the end, it turned out that the abstraction of the Interior Space images was more subtle.

The other main question I had to answer was, what could I do that wasn’t already being done with ISS photography? The astronauts had created amazing photographs of the Earth from the ISS. Though I would love to collaborate in creating abstract photographs of the Earth from space (and most of them are dramatically abstract), this subject was more than professionally and sufficiently covered. The station’s exterior is sometimes photographed during spacewalks, but the critical timing, precious resources, and hazards of the vacuum of space make any nonessential activities out of the question. The interior of the station is photographed, but typically as the background of some other subject: the astronauts and cosmonauts, experiments, and demonstrations. Documenting and interpreting the station’s interior would be a challenge distant and different from the majority of the images made on the facility. The interior of the ISS as the subject also fits with the previous photography of space launch and test facilities I have done.

So, I had a thesis and subject to photograph, but not the process. How could I relay my photographic vision to astronauts onboard the International Space Station? I needed to understand what life was like for an astronaut on the ISS. I decided to do a little research on Cady Coleman, for a start. Cady first flew to space in October 1995 on mission STS-73 on the Space Shuttle Columbia. She returned to space in July 1999, on STS-93—again on Columbia. Cady’s final mission before retiring from NASA was on Expeditions 26 and 27, this time launching from Kazakhstan on a Russian Soyuz spacecraft. In studying Cady’s efforts on these missions, one of the events that stood out was a flute duet with Ian Anderson (of the band Jethro Tull) for the 50th anniversary of

Longitudinal View, ISS Starboard to ISS Port European Laboratory – Columbus Space Vehicle Mockup Facility – SVMF NASA Johnson Space Center, Texas

Longitudinal View, ISS Starboard to ISS Port European Laboratory – Columbus International Space Station – ISS Low Earth Orbit, Space

Yuri Gagarin’s space flight on April 12, 1961. She was onboard the ISS and Ian was performing a concert in Russia. Paolo Nespoli would later tell me how wonderful it was when Cady would play her flute in the station’s Cupola late at night, and the crew could hear her distant performance throughout the station.

This Earth-and-space-based collaboration gave me an idea. What if I were able to do something similar and work with an astronaut to photograph the interior of the ISS in real time? How would it work? Who would I work with? And most importantly, how would I ever get such a wild scheme approved by NASA?

It seemed that technology must exist to stream a camera’s image to Earth—much like a smartphone can “cast” an image to a TV or other monitor. I knew the voice communication abilities existed. I quickly devised a plan to work with an astronaut on the ISS. The collaborating astronaut would have a DSLR camera tethered to a laptop. The computer’s image would be cast back to Earth in real time, and I would view what the astronaut’s camera was seeing on another computer here on Earth. I could then instruct the astronaut to specific subjects and compositions in the station’s interior.

If NASA didn’t have the technology to pull off this unique Earth/space collaboration plan, nobody would. On the other hand, it was NASA. NASA doesn’t do things halfway. I would have to look at all the intricacies and ramifications a project like this would entail. It was an extremely long shot to get this approved. What would it cost? Could I use the existing cameras and computers on the station? How would I get an astronaut to work with me?

I put together a proposal that included a three-phase project: research of existing ISS imagery, photography of the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility (a mockup of the ISS) at the Johnson Space Center, and the actual collaborative photography with an onboard astronaut.

It was important to study the imagery being created on the ISS to avoid duplicating work already having been done. As things developed, it turned out that existing images would become even more critical to the project.

I wanted to photograph the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility (SVMF) at NASA’s Johnson Space Center. The SVMF houses a full-scale mockup of the ISS. I wanted to gain an understanding of what the ISS environment felt and looked like. It would also give me a chance to try different focal length lenses, gain experience in the same lighting available on the station, and experiment with different exposure settings.

I sent my proposal to Cady Coleman, and she replied that she really thought it was a good approach. Cady knew that the only way to get this plan approved and completed was to get an astronaut on board with the project—and she knew just the person. Cady had been on Expeditions 26 and 27 to the International Space Station with Italian astronaut, Paolo Nespoli. Paolo was scheduled to return to the station on Expeditions 52 and 53 in July 2017. Cady said she would contact Paolo about collaborating with me on the project during his upcoming time on the ISS.

A few days later, Paolo called me. We talked for about 45 minutes that afternoon. The first thing Paolo told me was that he understood the importance of including the humanities in efforts of space exploration and science research. Paolo said we should be sending poets, writers, dancers, philosophers, theologians, and artists of all kinds into space to interpret the experience. But we both agreed that we are not at the point where that is a practical use of current space exploration resources.

Paolo then politely explained that everything I proposed was technically possible and even practical, but the reality of the resources it required would not make it feasible. He said that the biggest hurdle was getting astronaut time.

“But,” Paolo said, “I think this is such an interesting and worthwhile project that I’m willing to do the work on my personal time. And instead of doing the working in real time, why don’t we just email images back and forth?”

Paolo and I continued to discuss the logistics and next steps. We agreed to speak again in the near future. I updated the proposal with Paolo’s suggestions. I presented our proposal to the Italian Space Agency (ASI), Paolo’s employer, and then NASA. Both agencies were receptive to the idea and allowed us to proceed. Thanks to Cady’s wise insight and Paolo’s openness to the project, we eventually got the go-ahead. Little did I know at that time what a perfect partner Paolo would be for this project.

Preparations

The International Space Station is about the size of a six-bedroom home based on its interior volume. That seems like a fairly finite environment—and I’m sure it feels that way to the astronauts and cosmonauts while they are aboard for five or six months. I knew that for the Interior Space project to be successful, I would have to get to know the station’s interior in great detail. I felt that for me to direct Paolo’s efforts at photographing the station’s interior, I would need an occupant’s understanding of the layout of the modules that comprise the ISS. Since I wasn’t going to get a chance to visit the ISS, I knew that my research would be limited to existing imagery of the station’s interior. Thankfully, there was plenty of material available online.

During the winter and spring of 2017, I spent an extensive amount of time reviewing any imagery of the International Space Station I could find. I wanted to familiarize myself with both the station itself and with the photography that was currently being done of and from the station. The first thing I learned is that the astronauts are good photographers—both technically and aesthetically. During my research, it became clear that the majority of the images made on orbit were either looking back at the Earth or documenting astronaut activities on the ISS. There were very few images that solely examined the station’s interior.

Along with this fact, the majority of the images of ISS activities were made with on-camera flash. This makes sense in the station’s lighting and microgravity environment. Since the astronauts were floating in a low light environment, there could be a lot of blurry images without the on-camera flash lighting. The main drawback to this supplemental lighting is its susceptibility to the inverse square law of light. The inverse square law of light dictates that light “falls off” or dissipates at a rate inversely square to the distance of the flash to the area being lit by the flash. In other words, light from an on-camera strobe dissipates rapidly, which means that if objects in the foreground look properly lit, the background will be much darker. The other issue created by an on-camera flash is harsh shadows.

I hoped to avoid both of these issues by avoiding flash photography as much as possible. There are two common ways to accomplish this goal. A photographer could use a slow shutter speed and a tripod or increase the camera’s sensitivity to light by adjusting the ISO setting—effectively increasing the camera’s “film speed.” The problem with the first approach is the simple fact that tripods don’t work in a microgravity environment. A tripod holds the camera steady simply due to gravity’s effect on its weight. Without the effect of gravity, the camera and tripod just float up. Therefore, my plan was to increase the camera’s ISO setting up to a maximum of 3200. I typically shoot at 100 ISO, which is the lowest ISO setting most cameras allow. The benefit of a low ISO setting is less grain or “noise” in the image.

In my early research of the International Space Station’s layout, I was surprised at the complexity of the interior. It was overwhelming at first. The experiment racks look similar in many of the modules. It doesn’t help that the module names sound similar: Unity, Harmony, Tranquility. The modules also often have several names. Unity is also Node 1, Harmony is Node 2, and Tranquility is Node 3. The Destiny Module is the US Laboratory, the Columbus Module is the European Laboratory, the JEM (Japanese Experiment Module) is also known as Kibo. The Quest Joint Airlock is actually two airlocks: Crew Lock and the Equipment Lock. The Leonardo Module is also the Permanent Multipurpose Module. Once I became familiar with these names, then my task was understanding their structural relationship within the station’s layout. Along with the image research, I even decided to build a small model of the International Space Station. This actually helped me grasp the three-dimensional relationships of the ISS modules.

I then made arrangements to photograph the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility (SVMF) at NASA’s Johnson Space Center in Houston. The SVMF previously housed the Full Fuselage Trainer (FFT) and the two Crew Compartment Trainers (CCT) utilized for the Space Shuttle Program. It is currently the home of the International Space Station full scale mockup—sans trusses, radiators, and solar arrays. My Public Affairs escort, Dan Huot, located a couple of days to give me access to the various ISS module mockups. We had to work around the almost constant training sessions held in the SVMF for astronauts, flight controllers, and others preparing to work on or with the ISS.

View Port-Aft, with Pressurized Mating Adapter 1 (on left) and Node 3 (on right) Node 1 – Unity International Space Station – ISS Low Earth Orbit, Space

View Port-Aft, with Pressurized Mating Adapter 1 (on left) and Node 3 (on right) Node 1 – Unity International Space Station – ISS Low Earth Orbit, Space

The pair of images on this page compare the ISS interior Google Street View screen capture (left) sent to Paolo Nespoli on the ISS and the image he made in response (right).

I had decided early on to concentrate solely on the NASA, European Space Agency (ESA), and Japan Aerospace Exploration Agency (JAXA) based modules. This decision was based on the limited time Paolo would have available to photograph, and also the extended approval process necessary if the Russian modules were included.

My primary plan was to use my images of the ISS Mockup to direct Paolo in his efforts to photograph the station’s interior. It was important that I make the most efficient use of the limited time Paolo would have available. My goal was to make images that I could send to Paolo and have him duplicate while on orbit. As it turned out, the ISS Mockup in the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility is fairly sparse in detail. It is not intended to train astronauts on the individual systems and equipment on the ISS, but instead is mostly used for emergency and critical scenario instruction.

The secondary goals of my ISS Mockup photography were to become familiar with the spatial relationships of the modules’ interiors, understand the station’s general lighting, and try out different focal length lenses. I also felt the mockup was an integral part of the overall ISS program and that these training facilities needed to be documented in their own right. Along with the SVMF, I also wanted to include the Space Station Training Facility (SSTF), also located at the Johnson Space Center. Unlike the ISS pressurized module mockups in the Space Vehicle Mockup Facility (which are exact replicas in proportion and layout to the actual ISS), the Space Station Training Facility Mockup only contains a two-wall version of the station. The ceiling and floor are blank. Since the equipment and experiment racks on the real ISS are laid out on all four walls, it is almost impossible to train on the Earthbound versions of individual experiments and equipment located on the floor and ceiling. In the Space Station Training Facility Mockup, the floor and ceiling experiment racks have been added to the wall racks, thus allowing astronauts to conveniently train in a 1G environment.

The mockups of the pressurized modules I photographed in the SVMF are true to the shape, size, and layout of their real counterparts on orbit, but they lack most of the actual instrumentation. The majority of the experiment racks are simply full-size photographs behind acrylic panels. Along with this, many of the experiment racks on the actual ISS change over time. New equipment, new experiments, and stowed cargo meant that the mockup I was photographing was well out-of-date compared to the actual ISS interior. I quickly realized that this would make it more difficult to relay to Paolo which sections of the station I wanted him to photograph.

The public affairs escorts I work with are always generous with their time and knowledge. Dan Huot at NASA’s Johnson Space Center was no exception. When Dan began to really understand the purpose of my photography, he told me that Google and NASA were releasing a Google Street View of the ISS interior in two days. Dan gave me a preview of the ISS Google Street View. I immediately realized that this view of the ISS interior would be extremely helpful in directing Paolo in his photography. Google Street View is a 360-degree virtual reality-style view of a specific location. You can move along the street—or in this case, through the ISS modules—and swing the view around, up and down, and zoom in and out. I quickly realized that I could move through the Google Street View of the ISS and take screen captures of the precise (or nearly precise) compositions I wanted Paolo to photograph. Google Street View is not perfect; there were only three or four “spots” from which to view each module, meaning I couldn’t always get the exact vantage point I wanted. The eyeline was also set. I could only swing the view up and down. No matter, this new resource would prove invaluable in the success of the project. The fact that the Street View images were made in March and April of 2017—and Paolo was launching in July 2017—meant that most aspects of the station would not have changed that much. I would have a window on what the station truly looked like while Paolo was on board.

Since Paolo and I were going to be exchanging images back and forth, I had to develop a simple yet precise method for describing how I wanted Paolo to make the photographs. Looking to NASA’s example of practicing everything, I decided to enlist the help of a friend and colleague, Mark Francis, professor of photography at Pensacola State College. I asked Mark if he would act as Paolo’s stand-in for an earthbound dry run of the system I was

testing. Mark generously agreed. We could have used any subject matter, but since Mark lived near the National Naval Aviation Museum in Pensacola, we decided he could photograph the space artifacts on display. The plan was to have Mark photograph the Skylab II Command Module and the Lunar Module replica. Once Mark had made the photographs, he sent me the uncropped files. I then used my “system” to mark up the images regarding cropping vertical center line, eyeline, and perspective angle. I sent the marked-up images to Mark, and he returned to the National Naval Aviation Museum and re-photographed the subjects based only on my feedback via email. It worked very well. Mark was able to interpret my markup and construct a composition almost as precisely as I intended.

In the end, I marked up the first batch of images I sent to Paolo and a few others along the way. It turned out that using the ISS interior Google Street View allowed me to be fairly precise in directing Paolo’s photography with very few markups.

In Orbit

On July 28, 2017, I watched on television the Italian astronaut Paolo Nespoli, American astronaut Randy Bresnik, and Russian cosmonaut Sergey Ryazansky launch to the International Space Station on a Russian Soyuz rocket from Russia’s Baikonur Launch Pad 1/5 in Kazakhstan—the same launch pad Yuri Gagarin made the first human flight to space from 56 years earlier. Already onboard the ISS were American astronauts Peggy Whitson and Jack Fischer, along with Russian cosmonaut Fyodor Yurchikhin. NASA TV showed the launch of Soyuz MS-05 on a beautiful July night. I also viewed the docking, hatch opening, and welcoming of the second half of ISS Expedition 52 crew.

A similar ceremonious hatch opening occurs about every three months on the ISS. The expedition crews of three people serve in an overlapping series of two expeditions. The pair of expeditions typically last four to six months. In Paolo’s case for this launch, they were Expeditions 52 and 53. Each crew spends about half of their time with two different sets of three astronauts. This ensures the station is always staffed and crews rotate safely with continuity of ongoing station operations. Paolo served all five months of Expeditions 52 and 53 with Bresnik and Ryazansky. The three existing crew members of Expedition 52 when they arrived were Whitson, Fischer, and Yurchikhin. After these three returned to Earth, Paolo and his launch mates were joined by American astronauts Mark Vande Hei and Joseph Acabá, along with Russian cosmonaut Alexander Misurkin.

Expeditions 52 and 53 would be Paolo’s third spaceflight. In October 2007, Paolo flew on the Space Shuttle Discovery on mission STS-120 to the ISS. STS-120 was commanded by Pamela Melroy, one of only two women to command a Space Shuttle mission. He also was a member of ISS Expedition Crews 26 and 27. It was on this mission that Paolo served with astronaut Cady Coleman, who introduced us.

I sent my first sample images of the Google Street View screen grabs to Paolo on Aug. 4, 2017. I wanted to let Paolo get acclimated to space before I engaged him. I sent him 28 jpeg files of the ISS interior utilizing my markup system.

The first images I received back were small jpegs, but it was obvious that the basic process worked—and worked well. Paolo’s interpretation of my sample images was near perfect. One of the points I made clear to Paolo when we were discussing the Interior Space project was that it was a collaboration. I wanted Paolo to utilize his knowledge of not only the ISS, but also his experience as a photographer to interpret my instructions. It was clear to me from the first batch of his images that Paolo could and would indeed add his insight to these images, and that was exactly what I wanted.

That being said, it was still almost eerie how much Paolo’s images felt like my photographs. Of course, it made sense, since I was giving him very direct instructions. It was thrilling and a little intimidating that another photographer could interpret my photographic vision so precisely. That was Cady Coleman’s challenge to me at the outset. Cady wanted me to relate my photographic vision and approach to astronauts on the International Space Station. It began to appear that this collaborative approach could really work.

The second batch of images held a few surprises for me. I had noticed that the ISO setting in the original batch of images was around 400. I was surprised, because I was expecting Paolo to

photograph at 3200 ISO due to the weightless environment and ambient lighting conditions. The first thing I noticed in the second batch is that the photographs were very sharp and had little grain or noise. I looked at the image files’ metadata and saw that Paolo’s exposures were up to four or even five seconds at 100 ISO. This seemed impossible without the ability to use a tripod. I wrote to Paolo, hoping he could explain these better-than-expected results. Paolo responded in his next email: “You are right thinking that a tripod would be difficult to be used in space. In fact, we use a ‘monopod’ (in my case a double monopod) to stabilize the camera. Today I was able to dedicate a bit more time to your project. Following your suggestions (but using a ‘monopod’ for stabilization), I fixed the aperture at F8 to get a better depth of field, then let the camera pick the shutter speed.”

Paolo was able to cobble together two of the articulated arms, which gave enough stability to the camera to make sharp images even at shutter speeds longer than one second. Paolo continued to work in this manner throughout the project, until his last shoot of the station’s interior. During his last day on the ISS, in an effort to get as many final images as possible, Paolo photographed with the camera handheld at 1000 ISO and shutter speeds ranging from one second to 1/80 th of a second. These images came out nearly as good as the stabilized photographs.

To keep a consistent quality to all the photographs from the project, I processed the image files with specialized software. I was able to reduce the grain introduced by the higher ISO setting and correct slight camera-motion blur created by Paolo’s handheld shooting while floating in a weightless environment.

Paolo and I worked this way, emailing images and feedback back and forth for the duration of his mission on Expedition 52 and 53. Though I say we “emailed” images back and forth, in actuality, I emailed my screen capture images from the ISS Google Street View to Paolo. Since the ISS is also home to the astronauts, and therefore to ensure their privacy, all the images Paolo made were first reviewed by the Astronaut Office at NASA’s Johnson Space Center before they were made available to me.

Though the main goal of the project was to photograph the interior of the station, I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to photograph from the Cupola, the seven-windowed observation port that points back down at the Earth. It is the greatest view not on Earth. I justified this by having Paolo include the interior of the Cupola in the images. I sent Paolo several screen capture compositions of the Cupola from the ISS Google Street View. Paolo, being an excellent photographer, was able to balance the interior Cupola lighting with that of the Earth by utilizing an on-camera flash. I wasn’t sure what to expect with these images, since they would have the randomness of whatever section of Earth was below the station when Paolo made them. I was not disappointed.

When I viewed Paolo’s Cupola images for the first time, I was astounded. They were beautiful! One in particular stood out. Not only was the lighting and detail of the Cupola interior splendid, but Paolo had also managed to capture a stunning pattern of clouds and light over the ocean—like none I had seen in all of the images I had researched. The cloud pattern was regular enough to introduce the design aspect of repetition, but irregular enough to be intriguing. The water visible in one of the Cupola’s windows was turned silver by the angle it was lit by the sun. The organic shapes of the clouds contrasted with the geometric lines and shapes of the Cupola’s interior. The central, round Cupola window showed the pattern of white clouds over blue ocean. It echoed the images of the entire Earth seen from space, the precious green, blue, and white orb that is our unique home. I felt that the entire project was worth this one spectacular image.

I met with Paolo in Washington, DC, a few months after he returned from space. I asked him if he waited for the cloud patterns to materialize. I pictured Paolo floating in the Cupola and studying the patterns as he made a revolution around the Earth in 90 minutes.

“No.” he said. “The Cupola is extremely busy. You need to get in, do your work, and get out. There is almost always someone waiting to get in the Cupola to work.”

The Interior Space project began as an attempt to lend my photographic vision and style to an astronaut onboard the International Space Station. It became possibly the first true collaboration between a visual artist on Earth and an astronaut in space. My hope is that this project leaves a unique record of what the

International Space Station looks and feels like to its inhabitants. It is important to interpret and record this amazing and unique facility before it is abandoned. Interior Space will remain as a record when the ISS—one of the most technologically advanced and important scientific tools of the 21 st century—no longer exists.

1

2 3 This exempts a couple of sponsored trips to MIR and a handful of uber-wealthy tourist trips to the ISS. We are on the cusp of limited space tourism, but large numbers of tourists staying in space for any length of time is still far off in the future. Bernstein, Jeremy, ‘’How About a Little Game?’’, The New Yorker, Nov. 5, 1966 Tyson, Neil deGrasse, Space Chronicles: Facing the Ultimate Frontier (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2012), 78.

PHOTOGRAPHY AND THE INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION ARCHAEOLOGICAL PROJECT

by Justin St. P. Walsh

The International Space Station is a remarkable milestone in the development of human capabilities for living in space. Planned for more than 15 years before its first modules were launched in 1998, ISS has been continuously inhabited since Nov. 2, 2000— 19 years, or over 7,000 consecutive days (by contrast, the Soviet/ Russian space station Mir was occupied for almost 13 years, 10 of them continuously). More than 240 people have visited ISS in that time, representing more than 40 percent of all humans who have ever traveled to space. These have included scientists, military officers, and wealthy tourists (euphemistically called “spaceflight participants” by the space agencies that manage the space station). The record occupancy for the space station at one time is 13, which happened during crew changeovers using the Space Shuttle. For readers who remember the early days of human spaceflight, these numbers are especially impressive. ISS is the largest spacecraft ever constructed. It can even be considered the most expensive building project ever undertaken, with some estimates as high as $150 billion to construct and maintain it. Taking all of these superlatives together, it should be no surprise that ISS has attracted attention from scholars from disparate fields who seek to understand human adaptations to the space environment. Countless experiments have been carried out both autonomously and by crews in physics, chemistry, biology, botany, health sciences, and other disciplines.

Even so, there has been hardly any study so far of the social and cultural aspects of life on board ISS—how crewmembers maintain traditional behaviors or develop new ones, how they cope with living with new people from different backgrounds, in an environment where multiple languages are spoken and written, and where everyday objects don’t fall to the ground when they’re dropped . . . but they also don’t stay in the same place, either! From the dawn of the Space Age, agencies have carried out countless physiological and psychological experiments, but the number of social science experiments can probably be counted on one hand. Yet NASA hopes to send a multi-person crew on a three-year round-trip mission to Mars, with other, even longer missions to deep space perhaps to follow. And a report on human factors in long-duration spaceflight by the National Academy of Sciences in 1972 already called a spacecraft “a microsociety in a miniworld.” Anthropologist Jack Stuster took the first steps in contributing a social-science perspective with his ISS Journals project. Over more than a decade, he recruited astronauts to write journal entries at least three times a week, which he then analyzed for positive and negative elements to make recommendations for future changes to the space station program. A team from the University of British Columbia, consisting of sociologist Phyllis Johnson and psychologist Peter Suedfeld, have recently concluded their experiment called At Home in Space. Their work used questionnaires administered to crews during their time onboard ISS to try to identify whether crews create “a unique ‘space culture’ that transcends their cultural differences.” The results of the UBC experiment are still being awaited.

Archaeologists are taking a different approach. It may seem unusual that archaeologists might examine human behavior of the recent past. After all, most archaeologists study people who lived hundreds or even thousands of years ago. But some archaeologists have been studying contemporary life since the 1970s. The first such project was by William Rathje, who examined the trash discarded by residents of Tucson, Arizona. The Tucson Garbage Project showed how archaeology could reveal what ques