Το σύμπαν της τέχνης και οι τέχνες τ' ουρανού

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Uranographia, Johann Elert Bode 1801

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Uranographia, Johann Elert Bode 1801

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Globi Coelestis in Tabulis Planas Redacti Descriptio, Auctore P. Ignatio Gastone Pardies, Soc. Jesu Mathematico, Paris 1674

 

Αρκτικός Πόλος

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Globi Coelestis, Ignatio Gastone, 1674

 

Εαρινή Ισημερία

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Globi Coelestis, Ignatio Gastone, 1674

 

Θερινό Ηλιοστάσιο

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Globi Coelestis, Ignatio Gastone, 1674

 

Φθινοπωρινή Ισημερία

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Globi Coelestis, Ignatio Gastone, 1674

 

Χειμερινό Ηλιοστάσιο

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L'Heure Du Berger

 

Νότιος πολικός

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L'Heure Du Berger, Paul Verlaine, 1844-1896

 

La Lune est rouge au brumeux horizon;

Dans un brouillard qui danse la prairie

S'endort fumeuse, et la grenouille crie

Par les joncs verts ou circule un frisson;

 

Les fleurs des eaux referment leurs

corolles;

Des peupliers profilent aux lointains,

Droits et serres, leurs spectres incertains;

Vers les buissons errent les lucioles;

 

Les chats-huants s'eveillent, et sans bruit

Rament l'air noir avec leurs ailes lourdes,

Et le Zenith s'emplit de lueurs sourdes.

Blanche, Venus emerge, et c'est la Nuit

 

Paysages Tristes, IV

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Αστρονόμος & Γεωγράφος, Rob Stevenson, 2010

 

Για τον εορτασμό των 15 ετών του APOD ο Vermeer ψηφιοποιήθηκε χρησιμοποιώντας ως ψηφίδες 5000 (!) APOD, συναρμοσμένα με μεγάλη τέχνη.

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Ode, Joseph Addison, The Spectator, 1712

 

The spacious firmament on high

With all the blue ethereal sky,

And spangled heavens, a shining frame,

Their great Original proclaim.

The unwearied sun from day to day

Does his Creator's power display,

And publishes in every land

The work of an almighty hand.

Soon as the evening shades prevail,

The moon takes up the wondrous tale,

And nightly to the listening earth

Repeats the story of her birth ;

Whilst all the stars that round her burn,

And all the planets in their turn,

Confirm the tidings as they roll,

And spread the truth from pole to pole.

What though in solemn silence, all

Move round this dark terrestrial ball ?

What though nor real voice nor sound

Amidst their radiant orbs be found ?

In Reason's ear they all rejoice,

And utter forth a glorious voice,

Forever singing as they shine :

"The hand that made us is divine !"

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Δίπτυχο ηλιακό ρολόι, Hieronymus Reinman, 1556

Ελεφαντόδοντο χαλκός και μπρούτζος

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Morning Song of Senlin, Conrad (Potter) Aiken 1889-1973

 

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning

When the light drips through the shutters like the dew,

I arise, I face the sunrise,

And do the things my fathers learned to do.

Stars in the purple dusk above the rooftops

Pale in a saffron mist and seem to die,

And I myself on a swiftly tilting planet

Stand before a glass and tie my tie.

Vine leaves tap my window,

Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,

The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree

Repeating three clear tones.

It is morning. I stand by the mirror

And tie my tie once more.

While waves far off in a pale rose twilight

Crash on a white sand shore.

I stand by a mirror and comb my hair :

How small and white my face ! -–

The green earth tilts through a sphere of air

And bathes in a flame of space.

There are houses hanging above the stars

And stars hung under a sea...

And a sun far off in a shell of silence

Dapples my walls for me...

It is morning, Senlin says, and in the morning

Should I not pause in the light to remember god ?

Upright and firm I stand on a star unstable,

He is immense and lonely as a cloud.

I will dedicate this moment before my mirror

To him alone, for him I will comb my hair.

Accept these humble offerings, cloud of silence !

I will think of you as I descend the stair.

Vine leaves tap my window,

The snail track shines on the stones,

Dew-drops flash from the chinaberry tree

Repeating two clear tones.

It is morning, I awake from a bed of silence,

Shining I rise from the starless waters of sleep.

The walls are about me still as in the evening,

I am the same and the same name still I keep.

The earth revolves with me, yet makes no motion,

The stars pale silently in a coral sky.

In a whistling void I stand before my mirror,

Unconcerned, and tie my tie.

There are horses neighing on far-off hills

Tossing their long white manes,

And mountains flash in the rose-white dusk,

Their shoulders black with rains...

It is morning. I stand by the mirror

And surprise my soul once more ;

The blue air rushes above my ceiling,

There are suns beneath my floor...

... It is morning, Senlin says, I ascend from darkness

And depart on the winds of space for I know not where,

My watch is wound, a key is in my pocket,

And the sky is darkened as I descend the stair.

There are shadows across the windows, clouds in heaven,

And a god among the stars; and I will go

Thinking of him as I might think of daybreak

And humming a tune I know...

Vine-leaves tap at the window,

Dew-drops sing to the garden stones,

The robin chirps in the chinaberry tree

Repeating three clear tones.

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Evening Song of Senlin, Conrad (Potter) Aiken 1889-1973

 

It is moonlight. Alone in the silence

I ascend my stairs once more,

While waves, remote in a pale blue starlight,

Crash on a white sand shore.

It is moonlight. The garden is silent.

I stand in my room alone.

Across my wall, from the far-off moon,

A rain of fire is thrown...

There are houses hanging above the stars,

And stars hung under a sea :

And a wind from the long blue vault of time

Waves my curtain for me...

I wait in the dark once more,

Swung between space and space :

Before my mirror I lift my hands

And face my remembered face.

Is it I who stand in a question here,

Asking to know my name ? ...

It is I, yet I know not whither I go,

Nor why, nor whence I came.

It is I, who awoke at dawn

And arose and descended the stair,

Conceiving a god in the eye of the sun, --

In a woman's hands and hair.

It is I whose flesh is gray with the stones

I builded into a wall :

With a mournful melody in my brain

Of a tune I cannot recall...

There are roses to kiss : and mouths to kiss ;

And the sharp-pained shadow of death.

I remember a rain-drop on my cheek, --

A wind like a fragrant breath...

And the star I laugh on tilts through heaven ;

And the heavens are dark and steep...

I will forget these things once more

In the silence of sleep.

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Τηλεσκόπιο- μπαστούνι, Wilson, Λονδίνο, 1810

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Cometographia, Johannes Hevelius, Danzig, 1668

NASA/JPL

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

Χαρακτικό σε ξύλο

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Άποψη του Augsburg με τους κομήτες του 1680, 1682 & 168

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Τυπολογία κομητών, μεταξοτυπία Mawangdui, Κίνα, περίπου 300πχ

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

 

Οι κομήτες των αρχών της προηγούμενης χιλιετίας

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

 

Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

 

Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

 

Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

 

Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας

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Theatrum Cometicum, Stanislaw Lubieniecki, Amsterdam, 1668

 

Χρωματισμένο αντίγραφο από την βιβλιοθήκη της Γαλλίας