Rohini Devasher

The field is many things. It is the extent of the observable world that is seen at any given moment. In astronomy, the field of view is usually expressed as an area viewed by an instrument, so the field of view is sight, resolution and measurement all at once. This series of cyanotypes explores the sky through both these prisms. Bringing together my interest in contemporary observational sciences and early scientific observational instruments, the sky appears as a physical field but also as a field of collection and a form of collective perception. 

The Mirrored Sky is a series of 12 cyanotypes produced while on board the ship. Each is a map of the sky from the latitudes of 0, 10, 20, 30, 40, 60, and 75 degrees. They were produced using as their base a device called the Southern Hemisphere Star Finder and Identifier. The instrument consists of a rigid white disk with 57 navigational stars on it called the 'star base' or 'white disk' and a set of 9 transparent templates. These templates are placed onto the star base to plot the height and directions of stars and other celestial bodies to help in navigation. The 9 templates are labelled according to the latitude of the observer.

Much of my work looks at the history of observation and the methods and materials that have been employed in the field, both in the past and today. In particular I have been looking at the work of historian of science Omar W. Nasim whose book Observing by Hand: Sketching the Nebulae in the Nineteenth Century (2014), delves specifically into the relationship between the observer, the object, and the instrument used to record, which in this case was the hand. Nasim states:

“Observation is not about looking harder or more transparently. Neither is it only a matter of looking with the eyes alone. It also a matter of recording, ordering, processing, and preparing. Certain practices of recording—namely sketching by hand— helped observers see more and differently. The hand was central to observation, not only for recording but also for tinkering with and adjusting the instruments by which something was observed. When we think about scientific observation, we must keep an eye on the hand.”

May and June are Milky Way season in the Southern Hemisphere. My voyage on the Pacific Ocean during this time meant that every night the Milky Way arched overhead. Added to this was the fact that by international shipping rules all vessels operate in complete darkness. The result is zero light pollution and the best viewing conditions for an amateur astronomer. Every night I documented the night sky. 

The development of photography has meant astronomers, amateur and professional alike, no longer need to draw to represent what they observe, and as Nasim points out in his book, few do today as part of their everyday research. He notes that this does not mean they no longer deal with images or image-making. For me, these Observations are a way to look deeper, to also allow new vocabularies of mark-making and possibly meaning emerge. Marked with signs and unclear coordinates, these are alternative maps of the sky as she saw them.

Much of my work looks at the history of observation and the methods and materials that have been employed in the field, both in the past and today. In particular I have been looking at the work of historian of science Omar W. Nasim whose book Observing by Hand: Sketching the Nebulae in the Nineteenth Century (2014), delves specifically into the relationship between the observer, the object, and the instrument used to record, which in this case was the hand. Nasim states:

“Observation is not about looking harder or more transparently. Neither is it only a matter of looking with the eyes alone. It also a matter of recording, ordering, processing, and preparing. Certain practices of recording—namely sketching by hand— helped observers see more and differently. The hand was central to observation, not only for recording but also for tinkering with and adjusting the instruments by which something was observed. When we think about scientific observation, we must keep an eye on the hand.”

May and June are Milky Way season in the Southern Hemisphere. My voyage on the Pacific Ocean during this time meant that every night the Milky Way arched overhead. Added to this was the fact that by international shipping rules all vessels operate in complete darkness. The result is zero light pollution and the best viewing conditions for an amateur astronomer. Every night I documented the night sky. 

The development of photography has meant astronomers, amateur and professional alike, no longer need to draw to represent what they observe, and as Nasim points out in his book, few do today as part of their everyday research. He notes that this does not mean they no longer deal with images or image-making. For me, these Observations are a way to look deeper, to also allow new vocabularies of mark-making and possibly meaning emerge. Marked with signs and unclear coordinates, these are alternative maps of the sky as she saw them.

Much of my work looks at the history of observation and the methods and materials that have been employed in the field, both in the past and today. In particular I have been looking at the work of historian of science Omar W. Nasim whose book Observing by Hand: Sketching the Nebulae in the Nineteenth Century (2014), delves specifically into the relationship between the observer, the object, and the instrument used to record, which in this case was the hand. Nasim states:

“Observation is not about looking harder or more transparently. Neither is it only a matter of looking with the eyes alone. It also a matter of recording, ordering, processing, and preparing. Certain practices of recording—namely sketching by hand— helped observers see more and differently. The hand was central to observation, not only for recording but also for tinkering with and adjusting the instruments by which something was observed. When we think about scientific observation, we must keep an eye on the hand.”

May and June are Milky Way season in the Southern Hemisphere. My voyage on the Pacific Ocean during this time meant that every night the Milky Way arched overhead. Added to this was the fact that by international shipping rules all vessels operate in complete darkness. The result is zero light pollution and the best viewing conditions for an amateur astronomer. Every night I documented the night sky. 

The development of photography has meant astronomers, amateur and professional alike, no longer need to draw to represent what they observe, and as Nasim points out in his book, few do today as part of their everyday research. He notes that this does not mean they no longer deal with images or image-making. For me, these Observations are a way to look deeper, to also allow new vocabularies of mark-making and possibly meaning emerge. Marked with signs and unclear coordinates, these are alternative maps of the sky as she saw them.

Much of my work looks at the history of observation and the methods and materials that have been employed in the field, both in the past and today. In particular I have been looking at the work of historian of science Omar W. Nasim whose book Observing by Hand: Sketching the Nebulae in the Nineteenth Century (2014), delves specifically into the relationship between the observer, the object, and the instrument used to record, which in this case was the hand. Nasim states:

“Observation is not about looking harder or more transparently. Neither is it only a matter of looking with the eyes alone. It also a matter of recording, ordering, processing, and preparing. Certain practices of recording—namely sketching by hand— helped observers see more and differently. The hand was central to observation, not only for recording but also for tinkering with and adjusting the instruments by which something was observed. When we think about scientific observation, we must keep an eye on the hand.”

May and June are Milky Way season in the Southern Hemisphere. My voyage on the Pacific Ocean during this time meant that every night the Milky Way arched overhead. Added to this was the fact that by international shipping rules all vessels operate in complete darkness. The result is zero light pollution and the best viewing conditions for an amateur astronomer. Every night I documented the night sky. 

The development of photography has meant astronomers, amateur and professional alike, no longer need to draw to represent what they observe, and as Nasim points out in his book, few do today as part of their everyday research. He notes that this does not mean they no longer deal with images or image-making. For me, these Observations are a way to look deeper, to also allow new vocabularies of mark-making and possibly meaning emerge. Marked with signs and unclear coordinates, these are alternative maps of the sky as she saw them.

Parallax is the perceived change in position of an object seen from two different places. In essence, parallax is the perceived shifting phenomenon that occurs when an object is viewed from different positions.

My time on the High Trust was spent literally between the spheres of blue above and below. Through the 26-day voyage I recorded images of both spheres. This large drawing mirrors that dual perspective. One pointed at the zenith looks up and out, recording the movement of the Milky Way across the skies of the Southern Hemisphere. The second looks down at the depths of the Pacific Ocean where the blue is so deep it is almost black, the ocean at 4,500 meters.