Part of the Dark Matters exhibit is a
series of lithographs by Alastair Clark, partly inspired by glass photographic
plates of the sky. This type of photographic plate is called a Schmidt plate, taken
on a special sort of telescope with a very wide field of view. Using glass
plates might sound slightly antediluvian, but up until the mid 1990s Schmidt
plates were the most efficient way of capturing information about hundreds of
thousands of stars and galaxies in a single exposure, and they have only
recently been superseded by digital photography. Astronomers used these plates
to make maps of the stars in our galaxy, the Milky Way, as well as maps of more
distant galaxies.
Astronomers like to make maps – and there
are some magnificent ones now. We can map distances to
objects (by using their measured redshift) and also time. This allows us to
picture how the Universe evolved from the initial big bang, when it went
through its period of rapid expansion and when the first stars and galaxies
were formed.
It sounds like a relatively straightforward
activity – but as with any map, judgments need to be made about what to
include. What is important and what is extraneous? And can a map be made
without a supporting framework in which to view it? There is something about
this activity that reminds me of Borges’ famous short story ‘On Exactitude in
Science’ about the perfect (and therefore perfectly useless), map that has a one-to-one
scale with reality.
Astronomers even make maps of the stuff
they cannot see – the
dark matter…
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