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