BLOG 10
I began my final research on a
topic that struck my interest during our class trip to the Mount Wilson
Observatory. While our hosts brought us through the 100 inch telescope dome in
the last hour of our visit, the telescope operator named Tom Mason directed our
class group to the control center of the telescope. The panel and table which
contained all of the controls was no wider than two school desks and the
buttons and knobs seemed to be straight out of a vintage science fiction movie.
Tom began explaining what each of the buttons do and he even rotated the dome
above us so that we could observe how he operates the mechanics. As he turned
back to the control panel, looking at the blank computer screen, he explained how
he goes about locating various objects in the night sky to study with the
telescope. Tom spoke of the basic longitude and latitude calculations he has to
make and how these coordinates can be picked out of the night sky, and he then
explained how the sky is split up and mapped out according to the length of the
day in hour increments. An object in the sky that is displayed on his screen
will give two coordinates, the right angle of ascension (East West) and declination
(North South). In order to gather the right angle of ascension, the number
given by the computer is equivalent to an hour, minute, and second based off of
the 24 hours of our solar day. Tom then proceeded to explain that although the
sky is mapped out into 24 equal hours based off of our solar day, the ‘day’ is
actually 23 hours 56 minutes and four seconds in length. This is what astronomers
call a sidereal day, or a day in which you would pick any star out of the sky
and wait for the Earth to make a full rotation to where that star is in the
same spot as where you originally found it the day before. This rotation is 4
minutes and 56 seconds shorter than our day.
In order
to emphasize my interest in the difference between a solar day and a sidereal
day, I planned on creating a plaster cube comprised of 24 layers, but measuring
23.564” all around. Although plausible and totally achievable, I found that my
plaster cube was moving further and further away from my original conceptual
path as I continued to work on it. Plaster does not combine well with most
other materials and dyes, and as I attempted to tint each of the 24 layers the
plaster mixture was not curing correctly and did not maintain the strength necessary
to keep itself together at such a large scale. Thus, I decided to cast my cube
in one solid pour and make the cast hollow to bring the weight down. I then
chose to paint on layers of color to represent my 24 layers and possibly fool
the audience into thinking the plaster was actually dyed. I was happy with my
decision and I was confident that I could still maintain a connection with my
interest in the data from a sidereal day, but alas, the plaster gods had it out
for me on this one. I released my cube from the mold and immediately following
the removal of my wooden mold, the whole first layer I poured (a dyed layer) separated
perfectly from the rest of the cube due to the dye mixed into the plaster. So
now my cube is 1.56” shorter on the top than my desired dimensions, but I still
had hope for my painted layers! In order to keep the lines perfect and straight
I planned on using the classic tape method, but once again, I was fooled. Tape
does not stick to cured plaster and I did not want to hand paint crooked lines
onto my cube, so I made the final decision to paint the whole cube an opaque
blue with a mixture of epoxy resin, micro-silica beads for texture, and blue
tint. Would you believe that resin peels right off of plaster after it cures?
So, I
have gone in a direction quite similar to my first project where I decided to
present a piece that represented my confusion with the mathematics I was
researching. Only this time, in my final critique, my piece actually embodies
my attempt and difficulty at grasping a physical representation of a sidereal
day. It is titled: This is not 24 hours
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