Wallpaper Wednesday: SDO and Sunspots

16 07 2014
"Sweeping Arches and Loops", solar magnetic activity viewed in the ultraviolet, June 30, 2014.

“Sweeping Arches and Loops”, solar magnetic activity viewed in the ultraviolet, June 30, 2014.

Looking at some of the photos returned by NASA’s Solar Dynamics Observatory (SDO), you’d think contemporary solar observing had little in common with what was being done at Kodaikanal c. 1900-1910. But in addition to the dramatic images of solar loops like the one shown above, SDO also sends back sunspot records that closely resemble the photos and charts produced by C. Michie Smith, John Evershed, and company.

"Spots Galore," July 8, 2014. Image credit: Solar Dynamics Observatory/NASA

“Spots Galore,” July 8, 2014. Image credit: Solar Dynamics Observatory/NASA

According to SDO/NASA:

“The Sun sported a whole slew of substantial sunspots over the past 11 days (July 1-10, 2014). This movie and still show the Sun in filtered white light speckled with more and larger sunspots than we have seen in quite some time. Sunspots are darker, cooler regions on the Sun created by intense magnetic fields poking through the surface. The Sun may have passed its peak level of activity, but it will still be producing many more sunspots and solar storms during the rest of this solar cycle. The still image was taken on July 8 at 22:24 UT.”

Looks familiar!

Visit the NASA/SDO gallery to see more images of solar activity. Like the two above images, most are stills excerpted from videos. Click through each image to reach the links to .mov and .mp4 files.





Sunspots, 1903

14 07 2014
paper disc with handwritten notations of sunspots

Sunspot observation record, April 30-May 1, 1903. Image courtesy of Indian Institute of Astrophysics/JR

I was fortunate enough to spend some time studying the historic instruments and library collection at Kodaikanal Observatory in Tamil Nadu this past week. Run by the Indian Institute of Astrophysics, the observatory was founded in 1899 to facilitate solar observing. In 1907, John Evershed arrived on the scene to (quite famously) bring his “auto-collimating spectroheliograph” online. You can imagine my excitement when Mr. Selvendran, Senior In-Charge at KO, opened the door to the spectroheliograph room and slid open the shed roof to expose the instrument’s mirror. So cool.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I spent my first day poking around KO’s fascinating library. Journals, books, catalogues, and ephemera stacked literally from floor to ceiling. So much stuff that I scarcely knew where to begin. But when I saw a stack of paper circles tucked into a corner shelf, I knew how I would spend the afternoon. I had only just read about these circles in one of C. Michie Smith’s (KO’s first director) annual reports.

Excerpt from Kodaikanal and Madras Observatories report for the year 1904.

Excerpt from Kodaikanal and Madras Observatories report for the year 1904.

Each of these 8-inch paper discs contains a record of 3-7 days of sunspot observations. Each spot was marked in pencil and assigned a letter (A, B, etc.). Every day, the observer recorded the new position and appearance of the lettered spots as they traversed the solar “surface”, i.e., the photosphere. For instance, in the following plates, sunspots A and B are shown moving from NNE to W between March 18 and 29, 1903.

Sunspot Observations, March 18-29, 1903. Image courtesy Indian Institute of Astrophysics.

Sunspot Observations, March 18-29, 1903. Image courtesy Indian Institute of Astrophysics/JR.

Sunspot Observations, March 18-29, 1903, detail. Image courtesy Indian Institute of Astrophysics.

Sunspot Observations, March 18-29, 1903, detail. Image courtesy Indian Institute of Astrophysics/JR.

The next image shows that those same spots continued westward between March 30 and April 2, 1903, breaking up as they went. You can also see a second line of spots traveling roughly parallel to the solar equator. They started out as indistinct patches at the eastern edge of the disc on the March 27-28. The March 30-April 2 disc shows how long it took for them to move half way across the Sun.

XXXX.

Sunspot Observations, March 30-April 2, 1903. Image courtesy Indian Institute of Astrophysics/JR.

According to C. Michie Smith, observers hand-recorded sunspots on 343 out of 365 days in 1904. What dedication, and this at a time when they didn’t really know what sunspots were. Observers just put in the hours and trusted that their efforts would one day lead to enlightenment.





On Learning (and Un-Learning) the History of Astronomy

4 07 2014
Black and White drawing of Comet Biela soon after it broke into two pieces.

Comet Biela, February 1846. From E. Weiß: “Bilderatlas der Sternenwelt”, 1888.

One of the challenges of working on the history of science is that I’m constantly having to forget things that I only just memorized or figured out. This need to learn/un-learn has been particularly acute since my arrival in Bangalore. I’ve been buried in the ephemera of the founding days of astrophysics—correspondence, observational data, eclipse photographs, equipment—and on Wednesday, I’ll be going up to Kodaikanal Observatory to study the historical instruments in situ. I’ve spent a lot of time puzzling through C. Michie Smith’s thoughts on the D line in the solar spectrum, and reading along as John Evershed’s thoughts on sunspots evolved over the course of a few decades.

It’s fascinating, watching a scientific argument grow, falter, and grow again.

The Indian Institute pf Astrophysics has a small collection of Evershed’s letters to and from William Huggins, F.R.S. Although friendly, the two men (and presumably Margaret Huggins and Mary Evershed, who remain in the background as “wives” even though they had a great deal to do with the science successes of both men) were quite cagey in their correspondence. They shared data and floated ideas without ever committing to a particular theory or revealing everything they knew. Reading the letters against their published papers shows that both astronomers left out more than than they included in their personal discussions; Evershed saw Huggins as a competitor as much as a mentor and friend.

Interesting stuff. But what I’ve really had to focus on this past couple of weeks, as I dig more deeply into the history of solar physics, is the art of comprehension without retention. That is, I need to understand Evershed’s early theories, but also need to forget about them as they were eventually proved incorrect. For example, yesterday I found myself drawing a line through my notes on Hervé Faye’s claim that the sunspots were caused by an upflow of material too hot to radiate properly, just to remind myself that later Evershed demonstrated that the upflow was cooler than the surrounding area. Sometimes I can see a problem with a theory based on my own knowledge; sometimes I have to wait until I’ve read three more Monthly Notices of the Royal Astronomical Society before I realize I need to forget a few more things.

The first article I picked up this morning started this cycle up again.

I’ve been looking at Norman Pogson’s original observation logs and comparing them with his published papers and catalogues. This morning, I found an interesting notice of his observations of Comet Biela in December 1872 (click  on the image to download the entire notice):

Norman R. Pogson, "Madras Observations of Biela's Comet," Astronomische Nachrichten, Vol. 84, (August 1874), pp. 183 - 186.

Norman R. Pogson, “Madras Observations of Biela’s Comet,” Astronomische Nachrichten, Vol. 84, (August 1874), pp. 183 – 186.

Kind of cool. But a quick Internet search tells me that Comet Biela was last sighted in 1852—fourteen years before Pogson’s viewing. I know Pogson was an under-appreciated astronomer, but is it possible we’ve completely forgotten about his observations?

As it turns out, Pogson’s claim that he had spotted Biela was challenged as early as January 1873. Pogson may have been misled in his identification by another astronomer, Klinkerfues, who told him to search for Biela near Theta Centauri. Or he may have been encouraged to identify the moving object as Biela since it was roughly coincident with what would later be identified as a Bielan meteor shower, created by the comet’s disintegration. However the confusion arose, by 1892, it was accepted fully that Pogson’s comet, now known as X 1872 X1, was not Biela at all, but some other object in motion. Pogson was able to record only two locations for his comet, so it is impossible to determine X 1872 X1′s orbit or period. Today, we may know X 1872 X1 by a second name, or Pogson may have made the comet’s only sighting before it broke up like Biela.

W. H. S. Monck, "Pogson's Comet and the Bielan Meteors," Publications of the Astronomical Society of the Pacific, Vol. 4, No. 21 (1892), p.19.

W. H. S. Monck, “Pogson’s Comet and the Bielan Meteors,” Publications of the Astronomical Society of the Pacific, Vol. 4, No. 21 (1892), p.19.

So, this morning, I learned that Norman Pogson observed Comet Biela from the Madras Observatory in December 1872. Approximately ten minutes later, I began the process of unlearning this bit of information and replacing it with conclusions drawn in the last two decades of the nineteenth century. After lunch, I may need to unlearn those bits as well and absorb instead analyses of X 1872 X made in the twentieth—or even better—twenty-first century.





India Calling

30 05 2014
John Evershed and Assistant, Kodaikanal Solar Observatory. Image courtesy IIA Archives.

John Evershed and Assistant, Kodaikanal Solar Observatory. Image courtesy IIA Archives.

I took my first dose of live typhoid vaccine this morning, so I guess it’s official: I’m on my way back to India for the summer. One of the benefits of the ACLS NFF is the research budget—large enough to cover the cost of two conferences and a trip to India in the same academic year. So, in two weeks, I’ll be rolling into the library at the Indian Institute of Astrophysics in Bangalore to complete “step two” of a new research project. Last summer was “step one,” exploratory research in the Lick Observatory archives at UC-Santa Cruz. No idea what “step three” will look like!

This project is still in its infancy, but I’m looking at the ways in which “new astronomy” (i.e., spectroscopy) affected observatory design at the end of the nineteenth century. More specifically, I’m trying to track the intellectual shift of Indian astronomers away from the UK and toward the US in the era of solar astronomy. It seems that even though Kodaikanal Observatory was constructed in the (British) colonial era, the astronomers were working more closely with Mt Wilson and Lick Observatories than with their British counterparts. Maybe. Possibly. That’s the great thing about research questions: even if I come back with “wrong answer,” I’ll have learned something new.





The Science of the Solar System

28 03 2014
Pluto System, Hubble Space Telescope. Image credit: NASA, ESA, H. Weaver (JPL/APL), A. Stern (SwRI), HST Pluto Companion Search Team

Pluto System, Hubble Space Telescope. Image credit: NASA, ESA, H. Weaver (JPL/APL), A. Stern (SwRI), HST Pluto Companion Search Team

I’m the first to admit I don’t understand the MOOC (Massive Open Online Course) model of education. I can’t figure out how companies like Coursera make money by offering free courses and I can’t see how anyone thinks they MOOCs can replace a four-year university education. I’m an advocate of online education for some courses, in some forms, but not for an entire college education. But no one asked me, and as long as the instructor gets paid and the student gets some intellectual benefit, I have no complaints. I’ve taken one MOOC (on Thomas Jefferson, because hey, UVa), learned a lot, and found it a pretty good use of my spare time.

The preceding paragraph was just a warm-up for the real purpose of this post: to remind you that you’re running out of time to register for Mike Brown‘s free online course, The Science of the Solar System. Judging only from the intro video, it looks like it’s going to be a fun class. I saw Mike give a talk at NEAF last year and enjoyed it. His material was pitched at a good level, assuming his audience had enough knowledge to follow him, but was not made up of astrophysicists.

Plus, he was nice enough to autograph a copy of his book for my wife.

Also coming up is a MOOC on the technology of astronomy (AstroTech: The Science and Technology behind Discovery). I think I’ll be enrolled in this one. My research deals with Early Modern “astrotech” and it might be fun to look at a more contemporary perspective.





David Malin, The Invisible Universe

22 03 2014
David Malin, Dust and Gas Adrift in Orion (UKS 1). Image ©Anglo-Australian Observatory; ©Anglo-Australian Observatory/Royal Observatory, Edinburgh; ©Malin/IAC/RGO; ©Malin/Pasachoff/Caltech

Dust and Gas Adrift in Orion (UKS 1). ©Anglo-Australian Observatory; ©Anglo-Australian Observatory/Royal Observatory, Edinburgh; ©Malin/IAC/RGO; ©Malin/Pasachoff/Caltech

The Invisible Universe, the lovely online exhibition of David Malin’s astrophotography at the Joseph Bellows Gallery, will be available for viewing for at least a couple more weeks. According to the gallery site, it will be viewable through April 2, 2014. This is one exhibition I wish I could view in person—there are few things more stunning than platinum-palladium prints, regardless of the subject.

David Malin was at the Anglo-Australian Observatory (now the Australian Astronomical Observatory, AAO) for twenty-six years as a photographic scientist-astronomer. If you are a fan of astrophotography, you have undoubtedly seen his most popular books, The Invisible Universe (1999) and Ancient Light (Phaidon, 2009).

The AAO owns the copyright for any of Malin’s images that required the use of the observatory’s instruments. David Malin Images manages the copyrights: follow this link for more information about photosales and reproduction rights.





Project Yosemite

3 03 2014

I’ve mentioned Yosemite a few times over the past two years. I have family in California’s Central Valley, and when we visit, it sometimes seems as if the mountains are literally calling to me. Skywatching is amazing up there (if you can get past your fear of being eaten by a cougar) and there is no shortage of photographs and films to prove it. To wit: Project Yosemite recently released a second timelapse, ostensibly documenting a 200+ mile backpacking trip, but really giving us a good view of the park’s changing skies. Their first video, released in 2012, was stunningly beautiful. Yosemite HD II may be even better.

ETA: The air traffic over Yosemite never ceases to amaze me.





Visiting McCormick Observatory

27 02 2014
Leander McCormick Observatory, Mount Jefferson, University of Virginia, November 2013. Image credit: JR

Leander McCormick Observatory, Mount Jefferson, University of Virginia, November 2013. Image credit: JR

I took the students in my “Spaces of Science” seminar to the Leander McCormick Observatory at University of Virginia for a viewing session last night. Sometimes I forget how fun it is to watch students learn—it often happens outside class, when they’re reading and writing and making connections across courses. So, to be under the same dome with them during the process was really lovely experience.

Much of last night’s success was due to McCormick’s outreach program. I could have listened to Dr. Ed Murphy talk for another three hours. He imparted a lot of information, ranging from a discussion of the serrated blades of the McCormick reaper (really) to the reason Betelgeuse appears red to the naked eye, but managed to wrap it all into an entertaining narrative that held our attention. I swear, even I believed Orion could stand in the ocean before he took an arrow to the head.

I freely admit that some of the pleasure of last night came from the fact that I also got to look through the 26-inch telescope. That’s the largest refractor I’ve ever used, and I enjoyed it so much I almost asked if I could stay late to watch Ganymede emerge from Jupiter’s shadow. As it was, we had a great view of Jupiter and Io during the class session. Dr. Murphy also showed them the Trapezium Cluster in the Orion nebula and blew one of my student’s mind when he told her that “new born” means 3,000,000 years old when it comes to stars.

Approximately half my students under-dressed for the weather, which was bad in that the temperatures fell below freezing, but good in that the class experienced observational astronomy as it would have been in the nineteenth century. One of the things that students can’t learn about the (historical) practice of astronomy unless they visit a big instrument is how much observing depends on bodily motion. We’ve been reading about Lick Observatory, where the floor moved up and down on a system of hydraulics to help astronomers chase objects across the sky. At McCormick, the approach was more traditional—astronomers climbed up and down a laddered observer’s chair that moves around the observatory on wheels. Then there was the manual positioning of the telescope as well as dome rotation (dome rotation still done by hand at McCormick). And then there was observing in the freezing cold, because heating the dome would disturb the optics with warm air currents.

I hope my students had as much fun as I had. Check back in a couple months for an update—I’m applying for a ticket to visit University of Virginia’s Fan Mountain Observatory in April. I hope that my students caught the bug and will join me for the evening.





“Spacefaring”

26 02 2014

I came across this odd but compelling Spacefaring video about the Indian Space Research Organization (ISRO) while doing some research on Achyut Kanvinde’s design for the Physical Research Laboratory (PRL) in Ahmedabad (1954). I can’t decide how I feel about contrast between “villager” and “science”. The video is also a little misleading, as India’s space port is in Andhra Pradesh (just up the east coast from Chennai). On the other hand, I watched it twice, which means it captured and held my interest.





Cristina de Middel – ‘The Afronauts’

10 09 2013
Man at instrument panel

Excerpt from ‘The Afronauts’, Cristina de Middel

I came across this exhibit review in a section of the New York Times that had been abandoned in the local coffee shop last week. Cristina de Middel, freelance photographer and photojournalist, has imagined a project—created a world, really—out of the traces left by Zambia’s space program. Initiated by Edward Makuka Nkoloso in 1964, the program foundered and failed in a matter of months. The Internet is a good source for mockery of Nkoloso’s ambitions (see this “forgotten space program” video, for instance), but de Middel appears to be doing something else. I can see the potential for laughter in some of her photographs, but she also manages to capture some of the intellectual brutality of the post-colonial experience. Who has the right to aspire to a new nation? To mobility? To colonize space?

Maybe we can laugh at Zambia’s misguided efforts in training astronauts, perhaps we can shake our heads over Nkoloso’s antics, but we’d only be making fun of ourselves. The instrument panel in the above photograph doesn’t look much different from those used to support the Apollo mission. The United States sent humans to the Moon with memos typed on manual typewriters and spacecraft operated with yes-no toggle switches. I mean, you can fly a Space Shuttle with a 386 microprocessor. Starting a space program with whatever resources are available…I don’t see the problem.

I don’t know what de Middel’s intent was, and I’m sure she was headed somewhere else creatively, but she’s left the viewer an opening to critique the hoarding of space exploration by a few privileged nations, always at the expense of others.

I’d like to link directly to de Middels’ ‘The Afronauts’ portfolio, but the design of her website makes that impossible. I’ll give these directions: after you arrive on her home page, click on the PROJECTS link at the bottom of the page. Currently, THE AFRONAUTS is at the top of the projects list.