Art at the Extremes of Exploration
What can exploration of the universe’s extremities teach us about home and ourselves? On this episode, host J. D. Talasek is joined by Richelle Ellis, a multidisciplinary artist whose work spans the deep ocean and deep space. Ellis is also an analog astronaut—she participates in simulated space missions on Earth that help NASA prepare for long-duration space missions. Her practice explores humanity, technology, and how exploration can create connection.
Music in this episode from Ursus Colossus and Buffalo.
Resources
- Visit Richelle Ellis’s website to learn more about her work.
- Read “Beyond Earthrise: Artemis and the Work of Richelle Ellis” in Issues. How can seeing Earth from above change the way we understand life below?
Transcript
J.D. Talasek: Welcome to The Ongoing Transformation, a podcast from Issues in Science and Technology. Issues is a quarterly journal published by the National Academy of Sciences and Arizona State University. I’m J.D. Talasek, director of Cultural Programs of the National Academy of Sciences.
What does it mean to make art at the extremes of human exploration? And what can those extremes teach us about home and ourselves? I’m joined by Richelle Ellis, a multidisciplinary artist and analog astronaut, whose work spans from the deep ocean to deep space. Richelle, welcome.
Richelle Ellis: Happy to be here.
Talasek: Your biography is extraordinary, and it’s unexpected to me for an artist. Thirteen artworks sent beyond Earth, art on the lunar surface, analog missions, deep ocean work, polar expedition. It goes on. So, I guess what I want to ask you to start with, Richelle, is before the rockets and the analog missions in your life, who were you as an artist? What were you curious about?
Ellis: Sure. So I actually grew up in a small mountain town called Idyllwild, California. The population of the town is about three thousand people. When I was growing up, you could see the night sky. It’s vast. It’s beautiful. You’re surrounded by nature. And it was just always a part of my process. A lot of people talk about stargazing, but I would actually look at the stars and kind of reflect back on myself, and really discovered that by exploring nature and wilderness, that that became a process of Earth gazing, understanding the environment, how I related to it.
So the art itself began to reflect not only natural systems and living systems, but also humanity and technology and where those systems collide.
It was an interesting transition because then I moved to a big city, and this love of systems and the way that the Earth is connected really started to inspire my work. And so, I found that, you know, having grown up in a small place, shifting into larger and larger cities and contexts started to expand this view, and I started to zoom out further and further, trying to understand my place within these greater systems and networks. So the art itself began to reflect not only natural systems and living systems, but also humanity and technology and where those systems collide.
Talasek: That’s amazing. I love the idea of growing up inspired by the stars. Was there a particular moment when you realized that your art-making process wasn’t going to take a conventional pathway?
Ellis: Absolutely. Early on when I was growing up, I would go on a lot of hikes with my father, who always liked to bring a watercolor set every time we’d go outside. And so, I was used to constantly painting and reflecting these different environments that I was shifting in between. And then after that, you know, went off to college.
After college, went straight into artist in residence programs where I began to do a lot of expeditions. And so, it was just part of my process to always have that watercolor kit in my back pocket. And to me, the expedition became the art studio. That’s where I would start to collect materials that were around me and notice colors and sights and sounds that would then be infused into the work. The art practice itself became this instrument for inquiry, and I found that just as scientists go out with their tools and equipment, I just could not travel without my art supplies, because that was the way that I made sense of the new environments and places around me
My art practice is untraditional, as you said. I call myself medium agnostic. So what this means is I am really inspired by ideas, and then the medium itself catches up to that idea. So if I’m considering, for example, how do I explore planetary connectivity, then the medium that I find most fitting to do this is a large puzzle. So then I’ll paint 91 puzzle pieces that connect physically into a giant planet-like structure that’s all hand-painted. So that’s one example of linking that medium and message.
But then it pushes me to other levels. For example, I was making art for the International Space Station, and you can’t exactly put a painting on a rocket ship without that costing a fortune. So you think about other ways to tell the story of your work, but in a new process. So I learned about DNA data storage, and what would happen is I would make a painting and then convert that painting into binary code, ones and zeros, sequence it into AGTC of DNA and launch that into space. And so then who knew that my art material would become DNA?
So I find that all of these different forms of making are very exciting and inspiring in terms of pushing possibilities of what creativity is and where it can go. And for that reason, that’s why I’m so inspired by this intersection of art and exploration. You can continue to create and expand what art is in itself and what medium it is simply by putting it in different environments and under different conditions, whether it’s shifts in gravity or pressure.
I tell people that my art practice has become very vertically oriented. It’s traversed through the stratosphere to orbit to the moon, an asteroid, and then also in the opposite direction of going into the deep ocean 5,000 meters underwater. And yet I keep arriving at the same subject, whether I’m going up or down. The center point is our Earth, and how do we cultivate new Earthrise moments to see the world in a new perspective, to see ourselves and where we belong in a new way.
Being an analog astronaut means that I actually, as an artist, join crews of scientists and live inside of biodomes.
Ellis: So being an analog astronaut means that I actually, as an artist, join crews of scientists and live inside of biodomes. So these are simulated environments that represent either living off world on the Moon and Mars. So these are self-contained environments where we cook with all dehydrated ingredients. We have a mission control station that we tune into and have daily comms with. Oftentimes, there are communication delays of 20 minutes to simulate as if we were actually living on another planet, on Mars, for example We manage this habitat. So it’s a small enclosure of four or five other crewmates, and so we really learn about crew dynamics and how do we work together to ensure the safety and wellbeing of these long duration missions. So I’ve been on missions that are a matter of a couple weeks to several months, and each of these missions really helps inform what it would be like to live off world. And for my own research, I’m looking at the creative component, so how is culture and creativity explored in these long duration missions?
To help people kind of understand this experience, I oftentimes, uh, relate to when we were all at lockdown during COVID. You were in a small confined space with your small crew, those that you lived with, and you have limited access to the outside. So any time you leave the outside, there’s special equipment that you use. In our case, we put a spacesuit on any time we leave the air lock and head outside for field research. And then as we return, you take off your equipment just as you would take off your COVID mask and kind of settle back in to this contained environment. But similarly, when you’re out there during lockdown, you learn to shift your lifestyle and your way of being and the ways you interact with others and the ways that you think about existence and your wellbeing.
Talasek: That’s a very interesting comparison to compare that to COVID, ’cause it’s something we can all relate to. I’m wondering if there’s other ways that having that experience have changed your perception, our culture, the way that you view your artwork. How did it influence your artwork and your creative process?
Ellis: When thinking about making art off world, the parameters completely change. You can be exposed to new atmosphere, gravity difference and pressure, isolation. There’s spacecraft constraints as well as being immersed in an unfamiliar ecosystem. And all of these factors really start to shift and change the outcome of what you make, and to me, that is what’s so inspiring, from leaving a traditional art studio and actually going into these extreme places to see how are you personally impacted by that experience, but also how does that change what you end up creating and how you make.
As an artist, I’ve really found incredible wonder and excitement with bridging art and aerospace because to me, that pushes us to utilize new materials that we would otherwise not have access to or new tools and equipment. It pushes us to think differently about how we tell the story of who we are, where we come from. It shifts where it belongs. Who’s the audience? Who comes and sees and experiences the work? Is it my fellow crew mates on an analog space mission? Is it future space explorers that might come across these artworks that are living on the moon or, uh, set to an asteroid? Uh, and then even further out, could the viewers potentially be extraterrestrial life?
I recently joined as an artist in residence at the SETI Institute, Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence, and I think there’s an interesting crossover of considering who is your art for and why we have this impulse to create.
Talasek: I wonder if you could reflect on the first time that you were in one of these environments. What did you think it was going to be, and what surprised you about that?
Ellis: Yeah. The first time doing a space analog was at HI-SEAS in Hawaii. It was also during 2020, so it was during lockdown. It was also during the elections, which was an interesting component when you have crew members who have different politics living inside of a biodome for a month at a time. So that really started to shape how we interacted with each other. But it enabled such an intimacy in seeing how other people work and how they process information.
For me, art is a form of exploration, and exploration and art both begin with this unknown. I don’t want to begin with an answer and illustrate it. I wanna create conditions where I might discover something. And what I found is all of my other crew mates have the same process, but they’re coming at it as engineers and scientists. We’re all interested in this unknown, but then it’s really putting the tools and the language to it which is completely different.
What I found with scientists is ultimately they’re looking for answers and evidence. They’re wanting to study extremophiles in the caves and see what kind of traces of life can be discovered, for example. But then you have the engineers. These are ultimately those that are looking for answers of whether something works. They were in the habitat, you know, making sure our systems were keeping us alive were all working properly.
Exploration and art both begin with this unknown. I don’t want to begin with an answer and illustrate it.
But then for me as the artist, it’s really about this permission to explore the unresolved and hold the ambiguity of the unknown. And I think that these three factors really need to coexist because that is a reference of who we are, where we come from, and what our, our culture is. It’s about both embracing what we know and also living with what we don’t know and shifting between those two spaces. And it really takes all of these different disciplines to explore those ideas. It’s really about this interaction with unknown territory that unlocks new ways of thinking and creating.
Talasek: I would say that probably most perceptions of the way an artist work by scientists or engineers is that you’re invited usually to interpret, if they’re told that an artist is gonna join an expedition. I’m wondering how you were able to communicate and engaged with collaborators who might have had that mindset? Or is that correct? I mean, is that something that you’ve had to confront?
Ellis: Absolutely. I think that is the assumed understanding of when does art and science come together, you have artists illustrating these scientific concepts. But I think there’s really a lot of possibility, and what I’ve noticed when working with scientists and engineers as an artist in the room, is that there’s this difference in perspective and this difference in how we interact with research and environments and each other that starts to unlock new ideas and new ways of thinking. And it’s actually in that kind of cross-pollination of ideas that it becomes this kind of mutual engine for making and thinking.
Talasek: So was there a specific question or an idea that you raised that your scientific and engineering collaborators maybe hadn’t thought about, uh, simply because you were approaching it from a creative, artistic perspective?
Ellis: Yes. So recently I just returned from an expedition as the artist at sea with the Schmidt Ocean Institute. And so this meant that I was out at sea for weeks in the South Atlantic, and this is where I was studying basically what’s known as Earth’s greatest engine. It’s the ocean gyre where it’s created by the spin of the planet, and it creates the spin of nutrients and carbon cycles and is such an engine for all life of the ocean. When I was out there, I got to access what we’d catch in the nets, and oftentimes it was microbial life because that’s really what’s prominent out there. So I was looking at zooplankton and phytoplankton under the microscope, and I had this really remarkable moment where I saw a piece of phytoplankton. So this is a life form that photosynthesizes and, and creates most of the oxygen that we breathe. But as I was looking at it, it looked so much like the Earthrise photograph under the microscope. Simply by how it was lit, it looked like this planet suspended in this blackness of space under the microscope. And that was when it hit me. Let me continue to explore this life under the microscope and compare it to various celestial bodies.
So I developed this whole series of work that was taking images of zooplankton and then comparing it to NASA James Webb telescope imageries of nebula clouds because they had similar structural properties. There was this incredible diatoms that almost looked like stars and really looking at the structures of living organisms under the microscope and how that referenced the scale and immense size of the universe within a single drop of water To me, that was really this incredible eureka moment of seeing those parallels.
And when scientists came and saw that I was drawing these comparisons, they were so excited because they are often trying to see, how can we make ocean exploration as exciting to the greater public as space exploration? And why are there people wearing NASA T-shirts, but not for NOAA representing the ocean? And so this was kind of a way to encourage more people to fall in love with the ocean. It has such a similar kind of novelty to space.
Talasek: I love the fact that you saw the similarities in that situation to Earthrise, because Earthrise is something that you and I wrote about for Issues, for the article that came out. And so let’s just for the audience, let’s kind of tie this back in. I think everybody knows about Earthrise, extraordinary moment when Apollo 8 astronauts sort of looked back and unexpectedly saw the Earth. You spent much of your career deliberately trying to create situations that allow us to look back at ourselves, and I love the fact that you saw this in a drop of water as well as some of your other work. Why was Earthrise important?
Ellis: Earthrise was so important because it was one of the few moments where we ventured out to the moon, and what we discovered was ourselves. We saw that the most important discovery of that journey was to Earth gaze and see our blue planet in the vastness of space and realize that it’s one living organism. It’s one living system. This is further acknowledged by astronauts when they fly to space. They talk about this concept called the overview effect, which is a cognitive shift in awareness that they feel and experience where they see that the world is one living system. And oftentimes that’s not only just a reaction of awe and inspiration, but it’s also this awakening for stewardship and this need to take action.
And similarly with Earthrise, from that single photograph which is the most globally collected image in the world, we have Earth Day. There was then campaigns to protect whales from whale hunting. There was then these ripples of impacts that came from that singular image. So that, for one, also shows the power of a visual medium, an artistic medium to uplift and inspire new ways of understanding not only our planet, but also ourselves.
So then how does this kind of transfer over into this moment of looking in a microscope and seeing an Earthrise within a small piece of plankton? I find that we need those constant reminders that we are part of something bigger than ourselves. And oftentimes we can feel like we’re operating separately, that we’re working in disparate fields, disparate industries, different mindsets. And when we can have these moments where you realize this is one system, that’s very empowering because it gives this sense of belonging. And I’ve been thinking a lot about why, as an artist, do I need to go to extreme environments, and why do I need to make art and submerge it into the depths of 5,000 meters deep into the ocean while also sending an art project to the surface of the moon? I think all of these really are inherent gestures for humanity of questioning belonging. Where do I come from? Why am I here? They’re more existential concepts, but I think they really give us this drive to live a life worth living, and I’m interested in attachment to Earth, to living systems, to other people, and to this improbable moment that we all get to participate in. You know, oftentimes you think about exploration as a form of escape, but to me it’s about intimacy. It’s about attachment. It’s about that reflective Earthrise moment where you find that you belong to something greater than yourself, and you are not alone.
Talasek: I’m J.D. Talasek, and you’re listening to The Ongoing Transformation. Today, we’re talking with Rochelle Ellis about making art on scientific expeditions alongside researchers and engineers. To her, the new knowledge we acquire does more than inspire us. It brings us together.
Ellis: Something that I’ve found is not just about my journey as an artist and what I’ve experienced, but in fact pushing it further to let the exploration itself shift and change the shape, form, structure, and qualities of the artwork itself, where the journey is deeply embedded in the artwork. And I think there’s this long history of artists playing that role on expeditions. If you look at artist Ansel Adams and his photography of the Muir Woods and how that was relative to John Muir’s research of uncovering new territory and new land, those photos helped support protecting those environments that would have otherwise potentially been destructed.
Another example is Charles Darwin on the Beagle voyages. He was also an artist, and he illustrated all of the different birds and sightings on the ship, and it’s really those depictions of these places that then could be carried back to the homeland and inform people of the beauty and novelty of these environments that have otherwise been unseen or untouched, unexperienced. And so there’s always been this interplay of the artist venturing into the unknown and being able to take something back, where their artwork is a map for other people to travel with them and to experience and see and trace their steps. And to me, I find that there’s actually an enormous amount of responsibility if you’re an artist entering these new pristine environments to really draw that map carefully and draw that map with intention and care, so that way you’re becoming a steward of these places, inspiring people to want to protect them, to want to engage and realize their beauty.
If, for example, going to space is an inevitable part of our future, which I do think it is, we need artists to kind of lean in and help shape that narrative.
And if, for example, going to space is an inevitable part of our future, which I do think it is, we need artists to kind of lean in and help shape that narrative. Because not only is our technology pushing us to new heights, our culture is going to follow. And so how can we be stewards and really responsible voices to what our culture represents off world? And that to me is a really exciting and nourishing place to explore because, uh, it is unknown, yet it’s the art that touches hearts and minds, whereas some of these technologies might miss that kind of access point. And so moving emotions, moving people with awe and wonder, much like the overview effect, can enable this sense of stewardship that I think we really need as we continue to explore.
Talasek: So as we think about the possibility of becoming multi-planetary species, and you mentioned it excites you. What excites you about that, and also what might worry you? What concerns you?
Ellis: So moving and becoming a multi-planetary species is both overwhelming and exciting. And to me, I just always look back at the story of our evolution. As soon as we left the primordial goo and entered land, that’s when we made the transition to another environment which completely changed the parameters of how we lived, what we made, and then eventually the culture follows. And to me, I see leaving Earth as that next step. We’re leaving the primordial goo, and so what type of evolution is gonna take form and take shape as we go beyond the atmosphere?
Now, when it comes relative to politics and resources and dominance and destruction, there’s different ways that you can model growth. And I think that having that awareness and intention of how do we expand in ways that are less destructive and are, in ways that, you know, think of things that could go wrong before they happen. We can do pre-planning, we can do preparation. We have all of these different tools for learning that we can use to help push us there.
Talasek: That’s great. I love the idea that what you as the artist is doing is providing a map of where we’ve been that could also help us imagine where we might be going. What do you see that you wish the rest of us could see?
Ellis: I love looking up things up close and letting people join me and noticing the details and intricacies that exist within a single atom or within looking at veins on a leaf or the pattern of a Voronoi tessellation on the wing of a dragonfly. And then also enabling viewers to look at the beautiful nebulas and how that also reflects in the lover’s eye. It’s really about the scale shifts and perhaps what’s most important about all of this expeditionary travel is the need for attention. I think artists learn to really pay attention to what’s around us, and that’s what I hope I can encourage other people to do, is to pay attention to what’s around us and to pay attention to the big and small.
Talasek: Yeah, you’re inviting us to be curious, to find that awe and wonder in the world around us. And I think, as exemplified by Earthrise and what you just said, it’s a combination of the rational understanding of the world around us that science provides for us, but also to allow that to be a portal into curiosity and to allow ourselves to connect with the world around us as human beings, as emotional creatures. I think that’s powerful.
Ellis: It’s funny because I’ve done work where I bring other artists or scientists out, and we’re working with our field journals, and what I found is even, you know, a scientist or even just a friend who who never really draws, they focus in on something in the natural environment, and they begin illustrating it. Say it’s a dandelion. What’s so interesting is after they’ve paid attention to it, after they’ve looked at every detail, they will go out of their way to make sure no one steps on that dandelion after they finish this drawing. And I think that’s exactly it, it’s about this attuned attention and allowing yourself to be amazed, and then you will go out of your way to protect that amazement and share it with other people, and that’s what being an artist is all about.
Talasek: Richelle, I think that is absolutely wonderful. I appreciate you taking the time to talk with me today for The Ongoing Transformation, and thank you for sharing your work with us.
Ellis: Thank you. Happy to be here.
Talasek: To learn more about Richelle Ellis, visit her website at richelleellis.com. Has a piece of art changed how you see the world? Tell us by emailing podcast@issues.org.
Please subscribe to The Ongoing Transformationwherever you get your podcasts. Thanks to our podcast producer Kimberly Quach, and our podcast technical director Roddy Nikpour. Music for this episode was provided by Ursus Colossus and Buffalo. I’m J.D. Talasek, director of Cultural Programs of the National Academy of Sciences. Thanks for listening