The title of the exhibition Each stream, each pulse, each vein draws inspiration from a poem by Ada Limón that accompanies NASA’s Europa Clipper mission to explore Jupiter’s mysterious moon, Europa.
Statistically looking, life beyond Earth is likely, but surely it resembles the one we know? It is possible that there are life forms based on elements other than carbon, using biological systems unknown to us, and their understanding is completely beyond our senses.
Although we believe that life on Earth depends on the sun, there are places where the biosphere is evolving in surprising ways. For example, in the ocean depths life exists thanks to hydrothermal vents.
A similar situation may exist under Europa’s ice crust. This is what makes the Europa Clipper mission so fascinating and may prove to be groundbreaking. Could life develop at the bottom of its oceans, without access to sunlight.
So, since we may be on the verge of discovering an alien biosphere, it is worth starting to wonder how humanity will react to such a revolution in our understanding of life and human existence? Will we give up our belief in our uniqueness? Maybe it’s worth looking at ourselves as space tourists who are about to start dropping in on alien planets with their baggage of capital accumulation systems and cultural expansion.
After all, since capitalism is almost here on Mars, and Europe is the next stop, maybe it’s worth thinking about what values we will transmit through space travel. Perhaps, instead of being devastating colonizers, we can become ambassadors of Earth’s culture in the intergalactic spectacle. Instead of focusing on conquest, we can reevaluate our role as inhabitants and explorers of the universe and say, “Let’s spread our wings, but let them be wings of respect and understanding” because, after all, we don’t want to be guests who leave only ruins and garbage behind.
In Praise of Mystery: A Poem for Europa
Arching under the night sky inky
with black expansiveness, we point
to the planets we know, we
pin quick wishes on stars. From earth,
we read the sky as if it is an unerring book
of the universe, expert and evident.
Still, there are mysteries below our sky:
the whale song, the songbird singing
its call in the bough of a wind-shaken tree.
We are creatures of constant awe,
curious at beauty, at leaf and blossom,
at grief and pleasure, sun and shadow.
And it is not darkness that unites us,
not the cold distance of space, but
the offering of water, each drop of rain,
each rivulet, each pulse, each vein.
O second moon, we, too, are made
of water, of vast and beckoning seas.
We, too, are made of wonders, of great
and ordinary loves, of small invisible worlds,
of a need to call out through the dark.