Solar Flares - A Poetic Installation (2022)
Inspired by stories of space weather research from Dr Sophie Murray from DIAS Dunsink Observatory and Brendan Owens, Chandrika created poems about the everyday moments of change and innovation in their research lives.
Written and performed by Chandrika Narayanan-Mohan
Sound design by Denis Clohessy
Motion Graphics by Farouk Alao
Science Gallery Rapid Residency Mentors and Advisors: Brendan Owens, Erica Villa, Grace Enemaku, Stefano Giovanardi
Special thank you to Aisling Murray and Mitzi D'Alton for their support as part of the Science Gallery Dublin team.
Created as part of the Science Gallery Dublin Rapid Residency 2021, and funded by the Arts Council of Ireland.
Supported by DIAS Dunsink Observatory.
Written and performed by Chandrika Narayanan-Mohan
Sound design by Denis Clohessy
Motion Graphics by Farouk Alao
Science Gallery Rapid Residency Mentors and Advisors: Brendan Owens, Erica Villa, Grace Enemaku, Stefano Giovanardi
Special thank you to Aisling Murray and Mitzi D'Alton for their support as part of the Science Gallery Dublin team.
Created as part of the Science Gallery Dublin Rapid Residency 2021, and funded by the Arts Council of Ireland.
Supported by DIAS Dunsink Observatory.
Read the poems and their backstories
Practical Magic
In the machine, the cycle of things
The writing, the publishing,
The thin white papercut of it,
The printing, the pulping, the new Word Document of it.
And then, a fissure:
A moment where the machine has faltered, and
You are turned mechanic.
There is an unexpected comfort of
The tools in your hand and the
Clarity of a headlight, and now comes
The setting down of a mantle,
The taking up of a toolbelt.
You understand the cogs, the
Nuts, the bolts, the conveyer belt
Of ideas, the Doing of Things,
The burning bright goodness of it and
The papers are left bleaching in a sunlit room
While you sit, connected, electric,
Elated and alive, and
The machine is you
And it is yours.
This poem is inspired by Dr Sophie Murray talking about how she shifted careers. She was in the cycle of publishing papers and applying for grants, and one day she had to apply for funding but the financial staff were on holiday, so she had to manage the more practical side of the proposal herself. She found that it came easy to her, and realised she was far more suited to the practical side of things, where she can make projects happen, work with software, and utilise her unique combination of skills in a space that is more collaborative and exciting. She has successfully carved out roles made just for her from that moment on.
The writing, the publishing,
The thin white papercut of it,
The printing, the pulping, the new Word Document of it.
And then, a fissure:
A moment where the machine has faltered, and
You are turned mechanic.
There is an unexpected comfort of
The tools in your hand and the
Clarity of a headlight, and now comes
The setting down of a mantle,
The taking up of a toolbelt.
You understand the cogs, the
Nuts, the bolts, the conveyer belt
Of ideas, the Doing of Things,
The burning bright goodness of it and
The papers are left bleaching in a sunlit room
While you sit, connected, electric,
Elated and alive, and
The machine is you
And it is yours.
This poem is inspired by Dr Sophie Murray talking about how she shifted careers. She was in the cycle of publishing papers and applying for grants, and one day she had to apply for funding but the financial staff were on holiday, so she had to manage the more practical side of the proposal herself. She found that it came easy to her, and realised she was far more suited to the practical side of things, where she can make projects happen, work with software, and utilise her unique combination of skills in a space that is more collaborative and exciting. She has successfully carved out roles made just for her from that moment on.
Ensemble
In the thin moments between a thought and a breath
When a spark pushes through
We breathe into it, tentatively,
Coaxing it to life, until
A roomful of exhalations sets the blaze flickering
Across a hundred open hands and smiling eyes.
Praise is coating our skin like honey;
We are friendly gods, and we revel in it.
The fire settles,
The seeds pop open,
And now there is the slow bake of
Embers glowing, pulsing, burning our hands.
Can you feel the warmth of it?
This poem was inspired by Dr Sophie Murray telling me about how she and her research partner discovered a breakthrough about ‘ensembles’ in solar flare research. They then attended the American Geophysical Union Meeting to present their findings. They were worried about talking to an unfamiliar audience and that their very niche research wouldn’t be received well. However everyone in the room loved their research, and they were practically mobbed after giving their talk and have made huge connections and progress through the people they met that day. It was a pivotal point in Sophie’s research career.
When a spark pushes through
We breathe into it, tentatively,
Coaxing it to life, until
A roomful of exhalations sets the blaze flickering
Across a hundred open hands and smiling eyes.
Praise is coating our skin like honey;
We are friendly gods, and we revel in it.
The fire settles,
The seeds pop open,
And now there is the slow bake of
Embers glowing, pulsing, burning our hands.
Can you feel the warmth of it?
This poem was inspired by Dr Sophie Murray telling me about how she and her research partner discovered a breakthrough about ‘ensembles’ in solar flare research. They then attended the American Geophysical Union Meeting to present their findings. They were worried about talking to an unfamiliar audience and that their very niche research wouldn’t be received well. However everyone in the room loved their research, and they were practically mobbed after giving their talk and have made huge connections and progress through the people they met that day. It was a pivotal point in Sophie’s research career.
Citizen Science
One or two Guinnesses down
The promise of
‘We won’t talk about work’ long broken.
We huddle around the smallness of something,
The closed doors of it,
The integrity of its structure.
But the liquid has us loosened and
The walls fall away,
The realisation that the idea is
Liquid, not solid,
It is an ocean and not a pebble,
And what we needed all along was not a fortress,
But a fleet.
This poem was inspired by Dr Sophie Murray telling me about her and a fellow solar flare researcher meeting in a pub, and after a few drinks they realised their research would be best progressed through a citizen science project called Sunspotter. Sophie mentioned that she was not big into public engagement as a student, and this researcher brought those ideas to the table. From their informal conversation a new large-scale project was born.
The promise of
‘We won’t talk about work’ long broken.
We huddle around the smallness of something,
The closed doors of it,
The integrity of its structure.
But the liquid has us loosened and
The walls fall away,
The realisation that the idea is
Liquid, not solid,
It is an ocean and not a pebble,
And what we needed all along was not a fortress,
But a fleet.
This poem was inspired by Dr Sophie Murray telling me about her and a fellow solar flare researcher meeting in a pub, and after a few drinks they realised their research would be best progressed through a citizen science project called Sunspotter. Sophie mentioned that she was not big into public engagement as a student, and this researcher brought those ideas to the table. From their informal conversation a new large-scale project was born.
Further Research Is Required
It’s a Christmas-fresh morning
The anticipation, the readiness, the
Excitement of finding yourself to be
At the centre of things, at the pinpoint of the universe
For one split moment, the euphoria, the
Absolute
Lack
That awaits you.
The absence of
Evidence
Correlation
Confirmation.
‘Inconclusive’.
It is Christmas morning and there is
Nothing under the tree.
This poem was inspired by Dr Brendan Owens, Open Science Coordinator at Science Gallery Dublin, and an astrophysics researcher. As part of his thesis research on solar flares, he had set up a telescope to work alongside X-rays, hoping to find a correlation between the two. This poem is based on his memory of the morning when he went to check his results and found that his hypothesis was wrong, and his entire thesis has essentially resulted in nothing.
The anticipation, the readiness, the
Excitement of finding yourself to be
At the centre of things, at the pinpoint of the universe
For one split moment, the euphoria, the
Absolute
Lack
That awaits you.
The absence of
Evidence
Correlation
Confirmation.
‘Inconclusive’.
It is Christmas morning and there is
Nothing under the tree.
This poem was inspired by Dr Brendan Owens, Open Science Coordinator at Science Gallery Dublin, and an astrophysics researcher. As part of his thesis research on solar flares, he had set up a telescope to work alongside X-rays, hoping to find a correlation between the two. This poem is based on his memory of the morning when he went to check his results and found that his hypothesis was wrong, and his entire thesis has essentially resulted in nothing.
Reinventing the Wheel
An incredulous look
Shared in good humour
Amongst the bafflement, the
‘Why on earth would you do it that way?’
And the settling of the moment,
The way it all falls apart,
The way things as you know them are burnt away
Until you are
Weightless
Singed to a crisp
And then
New.
Glowing as you step into a
New realisation
Baptised in the cool waters of the
‘Yes’
The
‘I see now’
The raw shine under the scabs
Where etched under the pink skin
It is written
‘This Is How We Make It Work.’
This poem was inspired by the story Dr Sophie Murray told me about when she met with a Met Weather forecaster, and presented forecasting information based on data about solar research. To her dismay the forecaster told her that her way of going about her research was 20 years out of date. That was the turning point when she realised if she used the technology and processes of everyday weather forecasting, rather than research specific to solar research, she could completely change the way she did her job, and she hasn’t looked back since.
Shared in good humour
Amongst the bafflement, the
‘Why on earth would you do it that way?’
And the settling of the moment,
The way it all falls apart,
The way things as you know them are burnt away
Until you are
Weightless
Singed to a crisp
And then
New.
Glowing as you step into a
New realisation
Baptised in the cool waters of the
‘Yes’
The
‘I see now’
The raw shine under the scabs
Where etched under the pink skin
It is written
‘This Is How We Make It Work.’
This poem was inspired by the story Dr Sophie Murray told me about when she met with a Met Weather forecaster, and presented forecasting information based on data about solar research. To her dismay the forecaster told her that her way of going about her research was 20 years out of date. That was the turning point when she realised if she used the technology and processes of everyday weather forecasting, rather than research specific to solar research, she could completely change the way she did her job, and she hasn’t looked back since.
Premiere at Future Human 2022
'Written in the Stars: A Migrant's Journey in Science Communication and Poetry'
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‘Art and science were never meant to live in silos,’ says STEAM trailblazer by Blathnaid O’Dea, Silicon Republic
Huge thank you to Ann O'Dea for giving me the space to share my story, and premiere Solar Flares at Future Human 2022. |
Photos by the wonderful Conor McCabe
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