Space art

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“… When art, space, dreams and know-how meet, … and when reflection becomes necessary.”

The conquest of space represents a singular point in the adventure, in the history, in the achievement, as well as in the writing of human knowledge. In this second half of the 20^th century, it is one of the crowning glories that spectacularly illustrate the realised capabilities of the species, as they develop in our technocultural, post-industrial societies.

What is more, in its very decoding, the substance proper to the conquest of space weaves manifold implications, profound and fruitful on different levels, in which ancestral aspirations, myths and realities are brought together.

This is doubtless why the images that flowed from it, widely broadcast by the media, would allow several billion people to benefit from it and to absorb it in its entirety.

For the first time indeed, a scientific adventure spectacular if ever there was one — as opposed to other scientific adventures, perhaps less “photogenic” but just as important — was followed by an entire population that was not necessarily professionally concerned. And, regardless of where they came from (the USSR or the United States), the great space firsts and their associated images would travel around the world as part of the human adventure, broadcast and rebroadcast as they would be on every international television channel.

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The establishment of the new imaginary linked to the conquest of space

Thus, for more than thirty years, as it was being accomplished, every human being with a television set had been able to follow the main stages of this conquest of space, living it almost in real time. And for the first time, in the moment, through images so powerful in themselves that commentary could become secondary, everyone had been able, without paying attention to it, through a media saturation without precedent on the scale of the entire planet, to broaden or shift their conceptual and cultural perceptions. Or else to inherit this acquisition, to be “born with it”, as far as the youngest among us are concerned.

A few major dates corresponding to the great firsts may be recalled here. Spread over a little more than thirty years, these great firsts would make the headlines — in the printed press and on the television news — and so be brought to the attention of nearly half the Earth's inhabitants: 4 October 1957: Sputnik, the 1^st artificial satellite of the Earth; 2 January 1959: the 1^st photograph of the far side of the Moon; 12 August 1960: Echo 1, the 1^st passive telecommunications satellite; 12 February 1961: Venera, the 1^st interplanetary probe launched towards Venus; 12 April 1961: Yuri Gagarin, the 1^st Man in space; 14 February 1963: Syncom, the 1^st geostationary satellite; 1965: the 1^st Man to step out into space; 3 February 1966: Luna 9, 1^st soft landing on the Moon; 21 July 1969: Armstrong and Aldrin, the 1^st landing of Man on the Moon; 1971: the 1^st orbital station; 1972: the launch of the Pioneer X probe towards Jupiter; 1976: the Viking laboratory probe makes a soft landing on the surface of Mars; 1986: Voyager II heading for Uranus; 1989: Voyager II, the 1^st human “object” to leave the solar system, and then also the space shuttles and their procession of live images, incidents, accidents, satellite retrievals…

So many powerful moments of emotion, indeed, coming from up there, from out there, from further away, from elsewhere, live… moments which, one will no doubt regret, were read against a background of competition and political ideology, when each of the two blocs prided itself, through these images, on demonstrating that it was indeed the stronger and the better. But on reflection, did not the most beautiful palaces built in Florence or in Venice also proceed from this form of challenge, from one family to another? Enough of this digression; let us return directly to the conquest of space and its impact on art.

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Art and space, did you say?

To put it briefly, space can be perceived under three fundamental aspects. Indeed, space implies at one and the same time:

— new physical conditions for experimentation;

— a new vantage point for observation;

— and a metaphysical seeding of the gaze.

While the first point does not specifically concern art but much more directly the community of scientific researchers, we owe to the second point, on the other hand, an event of capital importance for the metamorphosis of consciousness.

If indeed each of us were asked to name the work of art which, made during this century, could be identified as the most important, the most compelling, the one that had already been shown to more than 2.5 billion inhabitants of the Earth, the initiatory one through which individual consciousness would never again be quite what it was before… well, we would be forced to acknowledge, first of all, that this work exists, that it is in fact not the product of an artist, but rather the product of the work of several generations of researchers and, ultimately, the concrete result of the know-how of an entire society combined with political will.

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The most important work of art engendered by the 20^th century

For, on reflection, this work, “the most important”, might well not be Guernica or some other magnificent, one-off, local cultural production by an artist, but quite simply the first photograph of the Earth seen from space, together with all those that have followed since. Photographs that revealed an Earth, a blue pearl in space such as we could never have imagined it, a subtle and finite Earth, blue, fragilely blue, infinitely alike and yet never quite the same nor quite another… an Earth which, in its photographs taken up by all the media and often by advertisers, would overturn our archetypes, nourished and inscribed though they were over the generations… photographs that would at last show man his kingdom, his domain, our home base, our cradle… photographs, again, that would relegate the globe map to the antiques shop for ever, that would — as Saint Thomas might have asked — allow us at last to “touch with our eyes” this planet and make it definitively “ours”, such as it is in itself at last…

Clearly, even if we were to stop there, art would already be immensely indebted to science and to technological know-how for a major work, this revealed view of the Earth. A view whose full extent we have perhaps not yet measured today in terms of the change it has brought about in individual consciousness and in the new collective attitudes that flow from it: an ecological vision made easier, for example, the emergence of a nascent sensitivity to the notion of Earth/Humanity interactivity… in short, a new understanding of man in the face of himself.

To stop there would of course be unforgivable, since it would leave out of account the imagination of artists, who were also touched by all the images of the conquest of space in general: these views of the Earth, of course, and then man in weightlessness, man on

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his space scooter, his work in the cabins of orbital stations and his dances in the space shuttle, those odd trajectories taken by objects floating in zero gravity, the bubbles full of water, the rings of Saturn, the landscape and surface of Mars, Io, the chase after comets, the search for life…

So many unprecedented horizons pushing questioning further still, the questioning at the origin of the third point mentioned above, which referred to the “metaphysical” seeding of the gaze. A gaze carried truly further, further elsewhere, into those places where, in response to the information received, the sensitive imagination vibrates and sets off tremors in the cerebral arcana of each of us. Tremors responsible for impulses of curiosity in some, impulses of enthusiasm in others, and which, through an alchemy of the transmutation of emotion, release unprecedented concepts in the artist, new reflections in thinkers, spaces without reference in the philosopher, and dazzling hypotheses in the man of science.

Indeed, from this third point there would spring forth in artists entirely unprecedented concepts, out of all proportion to anything that had existed until then, artists whose creative unconscious would seize upon this new cultural dimension established before their eyes, with which they could henceforth conceptualise and then work.

The artist and the spirit of the times, or the birth of space art

The very first concepts of space art appeared between the 1970s and the 1980s. Four artists, who did not know one another, would each independently undertake a radical extension of artistic practice. Laying the foundations of a new art, they would: 1/ integrate the new frontiers of human knowledge as the conquest of space set them out; 2/ take up the technological know-how specific to this conquest of space as tools of artistic creation in their own right; and 3/ extend their

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concrete field of artistic production to the whole of space. As an implicit consequence, in certain variations, their works could be seen by the totality of human beings, and sometimes they might also — conceptually and intentionally at least — address those possible intelligences “other” than our own that may be present in the universe.

Four artists, two Americans and two Frenchmen, now prove to have been the undisputed pioneers of this artistic emanation in the 1970s and 80s: Pierre Comte, Joseph Mac Shane, Jean-Marc Philippe and Tom Van Sat.

Each in his own imagination, in his own way, according to his sensibility and his approach, had conceived projects in which art, space and know-how would combine.

Pierre Comte's ambition was:

— to place on the ground objects reflecting the sun, arranged in geometric figures, so that the resulting flashes would attract the attention of observers of space (Horus Project, 1978);

— to put into low orbit a steerable satellite reflecting the rays of the Sun which, seen from the ground at certain moments, could shine with a brilliance far greater than that of any existing star (Arsat Project, 1981)…

Joseph Mac Shane's ambition was:

— to bring back to Earth some of the “vacuum” of space, and to create unprecedented hues by vaporising metals in a vacuum in the absence of gravity (1977);

— to put into orbit garland-like sculptures which, at nightfall, would be visible to an observer on Earth…

Jean-Marc Philippe's ambition was:

— to light a crown of artificial stars around the planet using 39 pre-existing geostationary satellites after equipping them with lasers (the “Celestial Wheel”, 1975)¹;

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— to make visible the travel of the speed of light (same concept);

— to send messages into the universe from radio telescopes;

— to create artificial aurorae borealis and showers of shooting stars…

Tom Van Sat's ambition, finally, was:

— to make symbolic drawings on the ground so that they would become arresting and meaningful when perceived from near or more distant space;

— to make the scale of the infinitely large and that of the infinitely small felt simultaneously;

— to give material form to the notion of 10¹⁰…

At the same time, each of these artists in his own way — through lectures, letters, press articles, TV programmes… — would communicate with other artists and the general public, raising awareness and delivering information that would soon make known around them this new form taken by artistic creation, in that tremendous ferment and heady atmosphere of the spirit of the times.

Thus it was that in December 1983 NASA, attentive to this new form of artistic expression, commissioned a study on the “Artistic Potential of Space” and listed a number of technologically realistic avenues. These avenues would often take up, or develop differently, the principles underlying the concepts of the four artists named above, but would also enrich them.

The main ideas emerging from a reading of this study drew attention to the following options:

— placing in orbit an object visible from the ground or not (a sculpture of water and ice, or of polymer resin hardening under ultraviolet light, a sculpture using techniques identical to those of the “Echo” satellite, made of Mylar sheet);

— fireworks launched from space;

— artificial shooting stars (obtained by the explosion of a small charge filled with grains of sand destined to burn up in the upper atmosphere like small meteorites);

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— a kinetic sculpture in orbit powered by solar energy;

— the release into space of ionised and/or coloured inert gases producing, as seen from the ground, a variety of light effects;

— laser displays from orbital stations in order to remind the Earth's inhabitants of the orbital station;

— a musical satellite, with variables dependent on data collected in space (instantaneous local particle density, particle energy), broadcasting towards the Earth on a public frequency;

— a peace satellite broadcasting a message in all the languages of the world;

— interaction between satellites in orbit and sculptural objects on the ground…

And little by little, space art made its way: the concept of the “Celestial Wheel” was shown at the Musée d'Art moderne de Paris (“Electra”, 1984), the Cité des sciences et de l'industrie welcomed its visitors for several months with a videotape explaining the Artsat project, MIT in Boston received a paper on “Art and Space”, in May 1985, on the initiative of Pierre Comte, the four artists named above brought their imaginations together in a group exhibition (Galerie Alain-Oudin, Paris, May 1985). On that occasion the daily newspaper Le Monde ran the front-page headline “Les nouveaux faiseurs d'étoiles” [The New Star-Makers] and devoted an inside page, by Elizabeth Gordon, to this new artistic emancipation. Shortly afterwards, at the instigation of the author of the “Celestial Wheel”, an information dossier of some fifteen pages, illustrated with more than twenty full-page photographs of the various projects of the four artists, went round the world as an exclusive (country by country). Monthlies such as FMR in Italy, Muy interessante in Spain, Ça m’intéresse in France… published the dossier on space art in its entirety, so that this movement initiated by four artists would contribute radically to seeding minds across different cultures and to inspiring emulators in many countries. Coming very directly out of the group exhibition, a competition for ideas on the theme of space art was even launched by the company operating the Eiffel Tower;

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99 entries were received and 3 winning projects selected, which, for various reasons, including the unresolved questions of advertising in space and the light pollution of the sky, were never followed up in any concrete way.

In November 1986, on the occasion of the fortieth anniversary of Unesco, under the aegis of the European Academy and at the express instigation of Jean-Marc Philippe, a commission of experts was convened to reflect on space art. The working paper handed beforehand to the various invited experts drew mainly on the observations and reflections accumulated during the many lectures presenting the “Celestial Wheel” that its author had given around the world over eight years, and which had raised diverse questions and remarks, sometimes contradictory and violent (“My sky is my sky; by what right would you intervene in it, and in what capacity?”). Questions as diverse as the following were thus addressed by the commission: whether an artificial object “broadly” luminous in the sky might disturb living beings such as birds by adding a new artificial luminous landmark to their usual landmarks; whether the indigenous peoples of the remotest parts of the planet might not see in it some untoward “supernatural” manifestation; whether space ought not to be reserved solely for military, scientific or commercial applications; whether advertising in space was tolerable or not; whether a large luminous satellite visible to the whole of humanity could be associated with and regarded as such as a symbol of human culture, or ultimately as a symbol, certainly, but one representative only of post-industrial technocultural societies… and, from this perspective, what the reading and decoding of such objects in the sky might be when perceived by human beings of the Third World or indeed of the Fourth World, and many other questions besides…

Invited to this think-tank commission, Otto Piene of MIT had supported the proposal contained in the working paper that a commission of artists might evaluate the different concepts of space art, himself contributing to this end a list of the names of 200 American artists who had given their consent.

At the end of the working commission's proceedings, it was recognised

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that the creation of a “World Space Art Committee” was desirable and that the creation of a “World Ethics Committee for the Peaceful Use of Space” was most strongly recommended.

Thus, for the first time, at the instigation of an artist, the institution had been led to consider the relationships that ought to be developed linking the conquest of space, in its various forms, with ethics in general. Shortly afterwards, the European Space Agency and the Collège international de philosophie organised a colloquium, “Frontière et conquête spatiale”, at which the earlier work was taken up again.

Like a ricochet, the seed of this form of responsibility would gradually be sown in responsible minds since, over the years, reflection would henceforth be conducted and nourished on this question of the ethics associated with the conquest of space, including questions related to art. Thus, in October 1994, stemming directly from the very first, premonitory meeting held at Unesco in 1986, the symposium “Les problèmes éthiques posés par applications des sciences et des techniques” [Ethical problems raised by applications of science and technology] was held at the Institut international des droits de l’homme in Trieste, where four themes — namely Bioethics, Nuclear Energy, Computing and Space — were on the agenda of the days of reflection. At the close of these days, recommendations were to be circulated to the main institutions concerned, in this case Unesco, the UN, governments, the various international space agencies and other bodies involved, particularly those where reflection in general was desired.

From Dream to Reality

Turning over this whole body of ideas, reflections and questions, the reader — critical and sceptical, as is only proper — might wonder whether, from dream to reality, these concepts of space art were not ultimately destined for some collection of poetry, for a few science-fiction books or, more sadly, for some wastepaper basket. The reader is mistaken.

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On 11 June 1980, NASA’s Land Sat 2 satellite, some 1,100 km above the Earth, records an image: the city of Los Angeles appears at the bottom right. Near the upper right-hand corner, in the Mountain Shadow area of the Mojave Desert, appears a great symbolic eye open to the sky. The eye is not a feature of the landscape but an image created by reflecting the light of the Sun: 90 mirrors set at precise angles reflect the rising Sun towards the satellite, which is circling at 40,000 km/h. The mirrors are placed roughly every 180 m, each requiring a difference in inclination of 1/10 of a degree; the calculations take into account the rotation of the Earth, the speed of the satellite in orbit and the position of the Sun in the sky.

Some time later, the same Tom Van Sat would have the same stylised eye as the one drawn in the desert engraved in a crystal of sodium chloride. This drawing spans a total width of… a quarter of a micron. Between these two eyes, the one in the desert and the one in the crystal, there is a “distance” corresponding to a factor of 10¹⁰.

Between 5 and 13 October 1984, aboard the space shuttle Challenger, Mission 41-G, a payload (small self-contained payload program) carried eight spheres and a ninth. The first eight spheres were coated, in a vacuum and in the absence of gravity, on their inner surface with vapour of platinum, gold, silver, chromium, aluminium… Joseph Mac Shane was pursuing his quest for hues of the most perfect purity, impossible to obtain within the field of terrestrial gravity. The ninth sphere, 14 inches in diameter, emptied of the air it had carried from the Earth, was left open for a moment to fill with the “vacuum” that reigned at that altitude. Back on Earth, it is now in the artist’s studio with the other eight.

On 26 January 1987, before Agence France-Presse and several international radio and television channels, the strangest (and also the largest) collective work ever produced by humanity escaped from the Earth in the form of an electromagnetic ribbon more than 1 billion kilometres long, setting off at the speed of light towards the heart of our galaxy… a heart it would reach in thirty thousand years, a galaxy it would leave for ever in a hundred thousand years. This electromagnetic ribbon, emitted by

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the Nançay radio telescope, specially adapted that day for this mission, carried the testimony of more than 10,500 human beings who wished to say something about themselves to those possible “others” than ourselves who might perhaps exist in the Universe. Between 1^st June 1986 and 26 January 1987, informed by a dense and well-paced press and television campaign, more than 50,000 people logged on to a telematic server connected to the Minitel, and 10,500 of them left their message there — messages intended for those possible “Others”. Jean-Marc Philippe’s “Messages from Humankind to the Universe” operation was endorsed by the international scientific community, Hubert Reeves helped to make it known, and a new artist’s dream had become reality.

In 1989, Pierre Comte created a ground installation representing the astronomical symbol of the planet Earth, intended to be seen by the satellite Spot. Left in place, this ground drawing, besides the photographs that have been taken of it, is currently used by the engineers of Spot to calibrate their measuring system.

Since these first achievements, and through the publicity they received, many concepts of space art have appeared here and there, some original and others content simply to play variations on the very first concepts already mentioned, which appeared in the 1970s and 1980s. Among the most particularly interesting projects worth noting are: Arthur Woods’s “OURS” project (1984), which consisted in placing in orbit a ring-shaped satellite reflecting the light of the Sun — a torus whose apparent diameter as perceived from the ground would be of the same order of magnitude as that of the Moon, whose outer surface deployed in space would be covered with drawings by children from all over the world, and which would be visible for some ten minutes at sunset and at sunrise; the project by Coles and Jefferson (1985), which consisted in placing in orbit two large remotely positioned hands, visible from the ground, showing Universal Time in the sky; Richard Clar’s “Space Flight Dolphin” project, which consisted in putting into orbit a satellite broadcasting recordings of dolphin voices towards the Universe; or again projects for choreography in weightlessness (K. Dubois)… Not forgetting, either, the remarkable concept of a lunar race (1982, U3P) which,

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applying the notion of radiation pressure (a notion well known to physicists, according to which light exerts a force on the surfaces it meets, like the wind on the sails of a boat), makes it possible, combined with the know-how available today, to envisage a “race to the Moon” run by genuine “solar sailing ships”, which would however first need to be placed in orbit and then deployed in order to be accelerated by solar radiation, while being remotely guided from the Earth.

Other projects exist, which it is of course not possible to mention here in full. But it should be noted that the accidents of the shuttle Challenger, like the break-up of Russia, have radically hindered or slowed down the realisation of projects that are now on hold.

It may also be noted that for some years now the journal Léonardo-Berkeley — under the direction of Roger Malina — has been publishing a quarterly newsletter on space art, giving the various artists who are gradually coming to feel concerned by this spatial sensibility a platform for information and encounter.

The Parallel Questions Raised by Space Art

Certain remarks and reflections obviously arise concerning this new emancipation of artistic creation. Thus, on a practical level, one can already observe that while it falls to the artist to be the initiating seed of the idea, he must very quickly surround himself with a technical team of the very highest level, generally drawn from the space agencies themselves or from laboratories working directly in the fields of space technology. In this respect it becomes clear that a concept of space art is indeed the fruit of a team. One may moreover consider that we are witnessing here a mutation of the artist’s “craft”, as the artist must henceforth incorporate the practice of professional skills other than those traditionally granted by his status as an artist — the artist of this mutation then inevitably coming closer to the head of a business if he hopes to bring his concepts to completion.

Jean-Marc Philippe, The “Celestial Wheel”, 1975. © ADAGP.

The principle of the concept consists in grafting onto 40 equidistant geostationary satellites, in addition to their own function, laser light-emitting devices, remotely controllable from the ground, each of which, seen from the Earth, would be perceived with a brilliance equal to or greater than that of Venus when it appears at its maximum brightness.

Through such a device — the circle of geostationary satellites thus equipped with these forty light sources — it would become possible:

— to light up a crown of stars around the planet, visible to all the Earth’s inhabitants at “remarkable” moments and for brief instants: calendar New Year, Chinese New Year, Jewish New Year…;

— to create, on the occasion of particular events involving the whole of humanity — Fair, World Exhibition, Olympic Games —, fleeting kinetic light signals on a planetary scale, by lighting the various satellites thus equipped two by two, three by three…;

— to make the speed of light visible: the circle of geostationary satellites measuring 270,000 km in circumference, light running from one satellite to the next would take nine tenths of a second to travel round it;

— to stir consciences by programming the “Celestial Wheel” so that, in the event of a nuclear conflict, it could emit random, closely spaced “universal” luminous SOS signals.

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Furthermore, it can also be observed that, since the implementation of such space-art concepts calls for substantial budgets, financial arrangements involving a search for partners are required. This form of obligatory sponsorship or partnership is, moreover, not without ethical problems where the largest projects are concerned, as we shall see further on. (Who funds whom, why, and how do the expected returns come about, and what are they; in the name of what message or what value; for whose eyes?)

But what is more, since the project must unavoidably call on a national space agency such as NASA, ESA, IKI… to actually place it in orbit, it is clear that certain decisions cannot be dealt with without the opinion /collaboration /intervention /weight /assent of a government, or in the future of a supranational organisation, on which the green light or the ban might depend (according, here again, to what criteria?).

Space Art and the Law

Quite naturally, the question of the legal environment then arises: within what framework, and on what treaties, conventions or rules, would the launch of a space-art concept — whether or not intended to be visible to the whole of humanity, all races and cultures alike — have to rely?

Compared in spirit with maritime law and air law, space law is still extremely general. A very limited number of texts or proposals exist, some of them registered by the UN but still far from being signed by all member states. For example, the basic treaty of space law of 27 January 1967 stipulates that space may be explored by all states, but under certain conditions. Thus any space-art project will first have to demonstrate that its primary purpose is indeed peaceful. In this sense, the object to be placed in orbit will therefore be liable to be “visited” by anyone who requests it, from whatever country.

Another legal aspect concerning any launch of objects into space: the question of liability for the nuisances that might be caused by an object placed in orbit in the name of art. Who,

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for example, could be held responsible for the undesired effects caused by a space-art concept, given that one of the articles of space law states that “… states bear direct responsibility for any launch of their making which might have prejudicial or harmful effects both on space itself and on the terrestrial environment”?

While the two preceding points are clearly defined, it is nonetheless apparent that even today an immense legal vacuum prevails in the field of space law, owing to a lack of intellectual engagement with the issue and a lack of will at the international level. One may, however, expect that in the coming years space law, by analogy with what happened in maritime and air law, could slowly pass from public international law to private international law.

Space Art and the Associated Physical Nuisances

In another register, through the mere fact of placing unusual objects in orbit, but also through the use of these orbiting objects, sometimes in the form of reflectors, space art could introduce — as was alluded to earlier — drawbacks at two levels: on the one hand as a potential producer of space debris (like any other military, commercial or scientific satellite), and on the other in terms of light pollution.

As regards the first point, the problems linked to the presence of debris in space are indeed well known. Debris whose dangers we know, owing to its high velocity, of the order of 11 km/s, which turns each fragment — however small its mass, of the order of a gram or less — into a projectile dangerous both to the solar panels and other technical equipment making up satellites in general and to astronauts’ suits in particular (with the mortal risks this represents). To draw attention to the importance of this question, one may for instance recall that the degradation of

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solar panels in space is due half to small meteorite impacts and half to debris of human origin.

As for the second nuisance, specific to reflector-type artistic satellites, the question of the violence of the flashes of light does indeed arise. For, like the play of the sun in a mirror, the strong light bouncing off the surface of these reflector satellites at certain angles of reflection may “blind” or partly destroy a certain number of technical devices — such as the delicate instruments measuring luminosity that probe the sky in its visible radiation, instruments found both on the ground and on board scientific observation satellites. In 1987 the Académie des sciences in Paris expressed strong reservations about the launch of such reflecting artistic concepts and asked that “serious guarantees” be given that would take these nuisances, and the means of remedying them, into account.

More recently, certain scientific associations (the International Astronomical Union, the American Astronomical Society and a few other groupings of scientists) have taken positions that can be summed up in this sentence: “Whatever proceeds from art should not be the cause of any (light) pollution whatsoever.” A stance which shows that a certain division could exist between the representatives of certain professional scientific communities and the community of artists.

Space Art and Funding

Contrary to what one might think, the costs inherent in most space-art concepts are not out of reach. For example, Joseph Mac Shane’s payload cost him $50,000, to which production costs were added. Jean-Marc Philippe’s “Messages from Humankind to the Universe” operation was likewise of the same order of magnitude.

But the question becomes quite different when large-scale reflector concepts are concerned. The costs of research and development, and of launching at the price per kilogram placed

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in orbit, involve sums of several millions or tens of millions of dollars — prices comparable to the costs of the biggest film productions.

It goes without saying that the price to be paid for realising these latter concepts poses a problem, not necessarily in finding the funding as such, but because, since such funding can only be envisaged within the sole, constrained logic of sponsorship, it implies in return treating space as an advertising showcase.

To counter this difficulty, there seems to be a move towards forms of association that could meet such funding needs, even the highest. Several artists are currently working in these directions.

Another suggestion, appearing in the aforementioned study document that had been given to the experts taking part in the working meeting on space art, put forward the hypothesis of funding an ambitious space-art concept visible from the ground in proportion to the GNP of the various countries/tribes of the Earth, incorporating symbolic donations for the smallest or poorest among them.

Space Art and Ethics

The question of ethics arises differently depending on whether one envisages spectators belonging to the whole Earth or spectators belonging to cultural matrices that have broadly developed the same kind of technical know-how as that required for the concrete realisation of space-art concepts.

The first hypothesis calls for no particular remark, and one may continue to accept that the artist remains free, with no constraint other than raising the funding needed to realise his own ideas.

If, on the other hand, one considers the second hypothesis, questions do arise there and deserve to be dwelt upon — not in the hope of settling the whole set of issues inherent in the question of ethics, but with the aim of highlighting a few related ques-

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tions that are delicate to manage fully. In the name of what value, for example, can one associate a luminous artistic object liable to be deciphered by all humankind against the backdrop of the firmament, all cultures and ethnic groups alike? Could one envisage leaving full latitude to the funder alone (governments, industrial companies, private individuals)? And could we in that case also continue to proclaim that the competitive liberal logic of the market is “universally” valid and that whatever follows from it continues to carry the force of law?

The issue is, as one senses, a vast one, and the answers to be given must be nuanced, for just as it is simple to think within a single field of knowledge, so it becomes complex to think several fields of that knowledge simultaneously, and the questions linked to the problematics of ethics, art and space are a matter of managing these “several”. In this sense, each person may argue according to his own level of demand and expectation, taking care perhaps to guard against a possible selfish cultural blindness, and consensus remains difficult to find.

Still in very general terms, and directly bound up with the debate, the following further questions deserve to be mentioned here in order to challenge the reader: may we arrogate to ourselves the right to intervene lastingly in the sky, or must we regard the sky as a protected site, a true heritage of humanity? May we allow the nations that have the technological means (China, France, India, Japan, the former USSR and the United States), and that might have the will, to take over the firmament within the sole and strict logic of a pure, hard-line market economy? Could we leave to some commercial firm or nation-state, or to some fabulously rich private billionaire, from here or elsewhere, the possibility of appropriating the attention of nearly 6 billion Earth-dwellers who will have asked for nothing… (let us recall here, in the spirit of these potential excesses, the swiftly denounced statement of that Japanese industrialist who, as owner of Van Gogh’s Irises, had let it be known that he intended to be cremated and to take the canvas with him)… In another vein, may we thus parade our Western technologies before the world with complete shamelessness or complete arrogance… when showing them in this way amounts to holding them

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up to glory, pure and simple, while nothing shows the price our societies have had to pay in terms of social and human effort to attain them.

By Way of Conclusion?

Art has always been a profound revealer, one that reconciles, that connects, but that can also expose the voids. And in that sense we must accept that it may disturb. Thus the ethical questions linked to space art, and our inability to manage them — or to know how to manage them — “well”, act as an unavoidable revealer, showing us plainly that while our societies know how to produce technology, they are in a full and simultaneous deficit in the production of thought. Meaning, more than ever, has deserted the stage, and no one, at this moment we are living through — and for some time now — is able to answer for it. To put it bluntly: may we sell and inscribe Cococolo or Cucuculu with impunity in the sky of all Earth-dwellers? Certainly not. Shall we, under the banner of space art, be capable of rising to the challenge and giving birth to a mature and fruitful idea of “universal value”, emanating from all human societies united on the surface of the Earth — a value that could make such a space-art launch a “global”, transdisciplinary and transcultural celebration, truly capable of being shared by all? That is the question.

The real stake of space art would then be to urge us to bring together technologies, reflection and the whole of Humanity, in the hope of laying the foundations of a new humanism on a planetary scale.