Obsession

I've been away, speaking figuratively. Same desk, same PC, different bit of cyberspace. RedBubble, it seems, is somewhat addictive. However, I do have a life beyond it, and part of that life encompasses astronomy from time to time.

In doing a bit of research for a talk last week, I came across Galazy Zoo. This is an online project that encourages people to assist with the massive task of classifying distant galaxies. As the site says, it's a: "project which harnesses the power of the internet - and your brain - to classify a million galaxies. By taking part, you'll not only be contributing to scientific research, but you'll view parts of the Universe that literally no-one has ever seen before and get a sense of the glorious diversity of galaxies that pepper the sky."

Well, I just went back to that site to look a bit further, and ended up registering. That process led me very quickly through the tutorial & test, and straight on to the work itself. No fuss, no ceremony, no tedious application or PhD thesis, just lots of pictures, as fast as I could work through them. And therein, I think, may lie the success of this project: as soon as you've done one, another image appears. Well, you can't possibly leave that one, so you do it. Then, there's another - which will only take a second or 2 - and then ... and so on. Oh, go on, just one more, it might be an interesting one. Here's a screen grab:


And so, obsession rears its ugly head once more. Have a go, you might enjoy it!

Lovely bubbly

I'm a RedBubbler now; discovered the site a few days ago, and have just started uploading images. I've been looking for an online outlet for a while, and this seems to be a good one. Check out the images and leave a comment.

Twinkle, twinkle

Sitting in the car tonight, waiting for my daughter, I opened the window and looked skyward. A beautiful night, warm, with as many stars as one would expect, this close to a sizeable regional town, and a crescent moon high in the west. A typical scene, yes? Well, it is here, Down Under (notwithstanding the wet season's first substantial cloud-bounty). However, I was taken back to my first experience of Australian skies, after first arriving here from Scotland 20 years ago. I was captivated. Not surprising, giving that I'd left a freezing northern land in January, complete with snow-turned-to-ice on the ground, and embarked on a delightful sojourn (it was supposed to be work, but was too much fun for that to be relevant) to the sub-tropical antipodes.

From 0° C to 40° C in the space of about 5 days, was quite a change. Temperature is just physics though; it required some adjustment, but it was what it was: hotter than I'd ever imagined. The sky however, was something else. Seeing Sirius nearly overhead, its brightness undimmed by the low altitude of a Scottish viewpoint, was the first thing of note. The second remarkable thing was that this scene was to be observed night after night - such that, after 2 months of unremitting sunshine and blue Rayleigh scattering, I was delighted to see a cloudy sky for a change. Anyone accustomed only to the perpetually grey skies of Britain would probably find that hard to imagine...

Back to tonight: it's easy to become blasé about the beauty of the sky, when it's always there, being ... beautiful. And even as an amateur astronomer of some 35-40 years, I am as affected by that as anyone else, and need to take a longer second look sometimes. Having said all that, what appeals so much about the night sky here - at least, between spring and autumn - is the fact that the whole experience is so damed comfortable. I don't have to put on 3 inches of insulation, before heading out to discover that it has now clouded over. There is such a sense of blissful relaxation to be had, looking at distant beacons gliding ever so slowly overhead, while crickets, cicadas etc sing their song.

I have to admit though: I'd exchange a few of these balmy, almost unchanging nights for a few displays of aurora under a crisp heaven with fiercely-twinkling stars. Of all the sights in nature, there can be few as awesome as the northern (or southern) lights. With that thought, here's a pic taken some years ago: a green rayed band over the orange glow of Edinburgh. It's a sight I will never tire of.

Image copyright © Duncan Waldron, 1992. All rights reserved.

Hydrangea

It seems I have a minor - but possibly growing - obsession with a hydrangea. We have one in a large pot on the back verandah, which is enjoying exuberant growth. It was somewhat abused a couple of years ago, being fairly sunburned and drought-afflicted. After being moved to a better spot and being treated more tenderly though, it is thriving once again.

I am drawn towards it with camera in hand; there's something about the leaf shape and texture that is so appealing: well-defined veins and bold serrations, with a satisfying sheen on at least some of the leaves. There is also a slightly unruly quality to the leaves, with unexpected twists and curls. The pink flowers, pretty though they are, don't interest me so much; possibly because I am inclined to render the images in monochrome, and they don't present enough of a graphic form to be worthwhile. Maybe I should take another look, and see if I can create a pleasing image from them as well. I might surprise myself.

Images Copyright Duncan Waldron 2007. All rights reserved.

Look what I found

I have spent several days, on and off, tidying my home office. It was in desperate need of it, for 2 reasons: 1, I am perpetually under-organised; 2, I have just moved the contents of an external office into the home, which made the floor disappear. Today was substantially the culmination of the process, in that it now looks organised, and ready for business. Indeed, SWMBO came in a few hours ago and said "what's that?"
"It's a piece of MDF", I replied.
"No, that," she insisted, waving her hand over the empty space (specifically, a desktop covered with said MDF).
Ah, yes, empty space. I have been the proud possessor of such a thing from time to time, but it invariably fills up with all manner of detritus as soon as my back is turned.

I realised some time ago that paper is the bane of my life. Copy paper, printed paper, brochures, forms, magazines, interesting snippets, etc etc... Once I had come to that realisation, I felt I had at least taken a step forward. Realising it was one thing though, dealing with it was another.

This time it will be different. I will be the master, and paper will be my servant; on call for when I need it, and despatched when I don't. It will be ephemeral, discarded on a whim, and only retained if it will serve a purpose. This will begin tomorrow, when my new assistant starts work ... a ruthlessly efficient filing system, coupled with In/Out trays that actually function as they are supposed to.

Tomorrow is a bright new morn...

Fascinating books (that I haven't yet read)

I like to catch the Book Show on ABC Radio National, when I can. It's a usually a welcome retreat from daily life. Today I listened while waiting in the car outside Spotlight, as SWMBO picked up supplies for a current magazine project. I'm not, I confess, a real outdoor person, although I do like the idea of being so. Today's guest, Robert MacFarlane, was discussing his new book The Wild Places. Not only was the subject of interest, but Robert was a pleasantly modest, gracious and engaging interviewee. His brief tales of 'night walking' along a ridge of hard snow and ice by moonlight, and the holloways of Dorset – among others – were quite thought-provoking. The transcript is here. A New Statesman review of the book is here.

14 May 2008 update: the current issue of Orion Magazine has an article here.

Another transcript that sounds interesting is from Monday's show, which included The history of virginity with Hanne Blank. Dare I look forward to The history of the loss of virginity...?

The tangled web

Dictionaries & the WWW: I love how you can go looking for one thing, and end up somewhere totally different, if you're of a mind to follow the path. It kind of fits in with the sentiment that we should "chase wild geese - that's what they're for."

This evening, I went looking for the history behind the ISO 'A' format paper sizes, following a discussion with a local artist today. I felt it was probably had some ancient British or German origin, which just happened to translate to the strange 297x210mm for A4 (etc). Turns out it is connected with old German & French thoughts on the merit of a format in which the ratio of the 2 sides of the sheet is 1:[square root of 2]. This allows a sheet to be folded in 2, and still be the same shape. Markus Kuhn says this:

"One of the oldest written records regarding the sqrt(2) aspect ratio for paper sizes is a letter that the physics professor Georg Christoph Lichtenberg (University of Göttingen, Germany, 1742-1799) wrote 1786-10-25 to Johann Beckmann. In it, Lichtenberg explains the practical and aesthetic advantages of the sqrt(2) aspect ratio, and of his discovery that paper with that aspect ratio was commonly available at the time. (There are also suggestions that the task to find a paper format that is similar to itself after being cut in half appeared as a question in mathematics exams as early as 1755.)"

However, James wondered how they arrived at an odd number like 297mm, which doesn't multiply to a nice round number. The answer is simple, and logical - from a metric viewpoint: A0 is one square metre, or very nearly so (with the 1:[square root of 2] ratio). Everything follows from there. Here endeth the lesson.

The point of this is that, having gone in search of old technology, I stumbled across someting very much of the present, a Flash animation. The front page of this site has a mesmeric animated mandala, and the succeeding page has an equally fascinating linear array. Both are affected by movement of the cursor with the the bounds of the graphic. Have a go: mothteeth.com

Beautiful woodwork

We took a run down to the Old Butter Factory in Bellingen yesterday. It's a collection of craft retail outlets covering a wide variety of creative endeavours. I'd seen a notice about a new fibrecraft exhibition there, and wanted to see what was on show (moreover, I thought Heather would enjoy it). There were some very nice exhibits, including one or two I'd like to buy.

What stopped me in my tracks though, was a piece in the woodwork gallery. This shop always has a variety of work, from small nick-nacks, to larger pieces like dining tables. On this occasion, Bim Morton, whose work I have admired before, had a beautiful dresser that is almost exactly what I want in my study when we build our house — except I want it to cover a whole wall.

Constructed from Blue Gum, this was a fairly simple cupboard topped with a bookshelf/display cabinet with glazed doors. The design was a perfect blend of simple elegance with individual finishing touches that my words cannot possibly do justice. For example, the door handles were hand-carved from the same piece of timber they were 'attached to'; both handles coming together in a central rose-like scroll motif. The doors themselves were prevented from banging shut by damped pistons, which allow them to close gently, even if you give the doors a firm shove to close. If you've even seen an S-class Mercedes pulling its doors shut when you didn't quite close them firmly enough, you'll be able to imagine these doors closing — with calm, refined restraint.

Deep joy.

Now there's an idea

I spent a number of years chasing innovative ideas, prototyping a few, bringing one to market and another almost there. It was an exciting and frustrating time, and after about six years of it, thought I'd managed to leave it all behind for sanity, but over a meal recently had a real 'light bulb' moment. That this moment was shared and more importantly, enthused over, by my other half, gives me hope that I might be onto to something here.

I'll need to tread carefully with the idea, as I don't want to be ripped off again, as we were a couple of years ago, by a large national semi-governmental organisation. After 18 months in development, that hurt. But, their lawyer was bigger than ours, and we had to let it go and watch while they introduced almost exactly the system we had proposed. So, I shall seek better counsel than before (no, not better - in fairness to my colleagues - just possibly more informed or focused), and see if I can turn the rough diamond into a real sparkler. Watch this space!

CD 'gramophone'

This is beautiful. Last year, I bought a gramophone kit, which was supposed to record on to old CDs, or any other smooth, rigid surface; it didn't work. Here's a new approach: play a CD, on what looks like a slimmed-down wooden gramophone. Eat your heart out, S*ny!

clipped from www.jieyu-design.com By bringing back a familiar nostalgic form of a phonograph, the design seeks transport the user back to the golden age of phonographs in early 1900s where sound broadcasting had a magical feel.