The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
b-side
Thursday, September 19, 2019 — 3B
June 19, 2016
June 1, 2017
Space. The final frontier. The place where
Star Wars are fought, odysseys are traveled,
and
extra
terrestrials
must
inevitably
return. Space has fascinated filmmakers and
audiences alike for generations. More than
50 years after the moon landing, it is still as
much of an unknown to us now as it was to
us then. Is there life beyond this world? Are
we alone on the vast plane of existence? Or is
there a threat still to come from above? What
is it about space that is so enthralling and
mystifying?
Despite our technological advancement
over the past five decades, audiences are still
as obsessed with space as they’ve ever been.
This year alone, multiple major blockbusters
have featured threats from above as their
primary source of conflict.
“Avengers:
Endgame”
saw
the
entire
universe
come
under
threat
from
an
ubervillain from another world, a being so
powerful that us mortals could scarcely
comprehend the force that he could wield.
“Godzilla: King of the Monsters” saw a space-
powered King Ghidorah who fell from the
heavens in the time before time. “Captain
Marvel,” “Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker,”
“Ad Astra” ... all of these films prominently
feature space as a central component of their
narrative. Why is it that out of the probable
five highest grossing films of the year, three
of them will be about space?
Human beings are obsessed with the
unknown. They fear it, they sometimes crave
it, but most of all they don’t understand it.
Besides death, space is the greatest unknown
there is. In some ways it is the ultimate
mystery. Despite decades of research, there is
still so much we do not know. Chicken Little
once said the sky was falling, and while no
one believed him then, audiences can’t stop
believing it now.
Besides the mystery of it all, space is
just cool. Aliens, laser swords, spaceships,
lightspeed, other worlds, strange encounters
— I mean what’s not to like? Science fiction
has everything that fantasy has, but with the
moral ambiguity and difficult that comes
with a more complicated setting. Not to say
fantasy cannot be complicated, but over the
course of genre history, it is science fiction
that has been known as the more thought
provoking of the two. “Star Trek,” “Dune,”
“2001 A Space Odyssey,” ... all of these pieces
are centered around who we are, where we’ve
been, and where we are going. By pitting
humanity against the upper limits of what is
possible and what is known, storytellers are
able to use space to reflect back on what truly
makes us human. Space allows us as a society
to understand who we are by comparing us to
what we are not. We are not super powered
beings from other worlds, blowing up Death
Stars and going where no man has ever gone
before. But by taking a look at what the
future could possibly hold, we give society
something to strive towards and something
to avoid.
If space is truly the final frontier, than it is
the last and greatest challenge that mankind
must face. I think there is a real possibility
that deep down a lot of people on this planet
inherently know that while our species
was born on earth, we were never meant to
die here. Space fascinates us because the
definition of space is the absence of something
else. That absence gives way to unlimited
possibility. Unlimited possibility for telling
stories, unlimited possibility for what is out
there and unlimited possibility for a world
that is seemingly growing smaller every day.
Our space obsession: The
looming threat in the sky
IAN HARRIS
Daily Arts Writer
METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER
Chicken Little once said the sky was
falling, and while no one believed him
then, audiences can’t stop believing it now
B-SIDE: FILM NOTEBOOK
The 2017 eclipse was a unique point in the
American consciousness. Large amounts of people
simultaneously pondered their existence relative
to the cosmos. It was a singular moment given that
people usually only confront their size in proportion
to a mundane scale: a shelf they’re trying to reach
or a six-foot height preference on Tinder. I was
struck by the fragile self-importance of my problems
in comparison to the universe beyond, and I think
others were too. But the only serious discussion of
our relative size I saw was in a flat-earther Facebook
group. They were more concerned with how NASA
managed to fake such a large-scale event.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Bringing it up at
the water cooler isn’t natural and probably won’t do
anything to quell the existential anxiety.
Literature is a better place to discuss such matters.
Its longform nature allows us to explore concepts
that would be too difficult otherwise. But what
exactly makes the universe scary, and how should
literature respond? Our insect-like proportions to
outer space can be daunting, but I don’t think size
alone can explain the fear. There’s something about
the vast, uncaring emptiness that makes humans
feel insignificant. And with good reason.
What do even the best pieces of writing signify
when held up next to the vast expanse of nothing
around us? Thinking about such things only makes
the stories we tell each other seem less relevant.
These anxieties are easy to ignore when engrossed
in a good story — we’re usually thinking about our
characters existing in a specific setting, not about
the oblivion surrounding that environment.
Moreover, space implies limits for fully controlling
our own experiences. The earth is part of a large
and uncaring universe, and we can’t completely
control our own environment. Asteroids are one
manifestation of this anxiety. Even the small things
humans can build will be ripped apart by each other,
or a decaying earth, or, ultimately, heat death. Can
we just ignore this? People walk indoors, and the
outside world feels like a different reality entirely,
separated by more than just walls. It’s easy to have
a similar feeling about our place in the universe.
Maybe this is good. We can focus on solving the
problems we have control over. But there has to be
some way to adapt our stories to respond healthily.
One typical response in literature is fantasies of
new colonialism. It’s comforting to some to grid and
map the intergalactic space, and then to colonize it.
The Cold War pushed American manifest destiny
upward. Perhaps if we build enough floating space
Walmarts, we can fill up the vast unknown with
something we understand. Spending your entire
free time imagining a Chili’s in the Kuiper belt has
some negative implications, believe it or not. For
one, it’s now easier to imagine geo-engineering a
new environment on Mars, as in Andy Weir’s “The
Martian,” than saving our own.
Other stories in literature try to focus on the
horror. For many, this means aliens. Other writers
fill the dark void ineffably giant H.P.-Lovecraftian
monsters. This makes sense: When presented with
nothing, we’re constantly scanning and looking
for something we can understand. Like being a
kid and running to the bed after turning out the
lights, there’s something we don’t trust about blank
nothingness. But this may not confront space’s
void directly. Humans can understand the horror
of monsters. We’re programmed to fear animals
that can kill us. Understanding our hypothetical
relationship to these monsters does not truly explore
why we’re afraid of nothingness, and what we can
do about it.
Our fears about space aren’t tangible. Translating
those fears to identifiable monsters means we
can’t honestly face less concrete horrors. Comedy
is another fallback. Books like “The Hitchhiker’s
Guide To The Galaxy” laugh off the absurdity of the
void. This may be just another type of deflection.
Imaging the answer to life as 42 is simply a way
of short-circuiting thinking about the terror of
meaninglessness.
Even if most literature isn’t genuinely looking in
the face of our reality, does that matter? We only
have so much time on this earth, and there’s more
than enough to worry about without trying to
confront large existential problems. Most people are
just worrying about how to make ends meet.
Perhaps there is no right answer. Facing absurdity
shouldn’t come at the cost of happiness. Some
terrors aren’t worth considering under certain
circumstances, even if they’re right. If you found
evidence for heaven not existing, you wouldn’t
present it to a mom at her son’s funeral. Ignoring
existential absurdity you have no control over isn’t
necessarily cowardly. Picking your battles is just one
part of coping with the human experience.
Facing absurdity through lit
LUKAS TAYLOR
For the Daily
B-SIDE: BOOKS NOTEBOOK
When we think of space, astrology and the galaxy,
we rarely think of the fashion industry and style.
However, the truth is that the concepts of space
influence fashion in a multifaceted manner, whether
consciously or not. This hidden affair between the
two worlds has probably been blossoming since the
day we landed on the moon. We can witness how
the mark of the space was introduced via more
geometric shapes and silhouettes on the runway
by designers such as Andre Courreges or Emilio
Pucci. Some began to shift to fabrics like PVC that
were inspired by
space suits; other
designs
became
more
utilitarian
as a whole. The
residue influence
was subtle but was
still undeniable.
Even
decades
later,
designers
are
continually
drawing
from
the
mystery
of
the space and the adventure that it promises.
Take the Chanel Fall/Winter 2017-18 collection.
Set against the backdrop of a rocket with models
floating down the ramp in metallic hues and
futuristic accessories, the show is an example of
fashion’s continual fascination with the galaxy.
In some ways, space gave birth to the futuristic
style that has become commonplace today, be it
through oversized, rectangular glasses or super
reflective jackets. Coach’s Pre-Fall Collection in
2017 captured the sentiment of exploring beyond
the given and achieving the impossible, reflected
in their simple but direct prints on their garments
and their marketing campaign. Some other huge
collaborations include NASA X Vans or Nike’s
Mars collection.
Space has lent its artistic potential to everyday
style and ways of thinking about fashion. If you
were to walk down any crowded street, you would
find someone wearing a shift that jokes about
their sun sign, dainty pendants in the shape of
constellations or even t-shirts that don the NASA
logo.
The solar system goes beyond design as well.
Bloggers such as STARtorialist dedicate their time
to sharing the interaction of all things fashion,
space and science. Similarly, publications such
as Harper’s Bazaar or Her Campus often write
about how to dress according to your “star sign,”
or zodiac sign, and what that sign means for your
personal style.
The interaction
between fashion
and space should
not be surprising.
Fashion is often
pigeonholed and
understood
to
only be what is
visible
on
the
surface,
when
in reality it is so
much more than
that. Similarly, astronomy is a way of thinking,
it’s a belief that some events are beyond control
and exert influence over others that we directly
do control. This affair is more like two ways of
thinking coming together and morphing into a
common creative outlet. Moreover, both realms
take into consideration things like patterns but
apply them differently. To fashion, patterns are
pertinent to defining a print or changing the
entire look, while for astronomy and the science of
space, patterns help predict. In the same manner,
structure, forms and colors are pivotal to the
functioning of each of these realms. Maybe that’s
why intergalactic themes in the fashion industry
have proven to be a huge success.
Space & style fell in love
PRIYDARSHINI GOUTHI
Daily Arts Writer
B-SIDE: STYLE NOTEBOOK
Fashion is often pigeonholed and
understood to only be what is visible
on the surface, when in reality it is so
much more than that
I think there is a
real possibility that
deep down a lot of
people on this planet
inherently know that
while our species was
born on earth, we
were never meant to
die here