I Look Up So Much, I Forgot to Look UP

As one who planetariums (its a verb) all the time in my backyard universe, strange things happen like this morning.  Ive taken to rising about 4 AM to get out there when the air is fresh and cool even in August, no light leaks plague my dome, and the coffee courses through my veins.  Ive talked about it before, the fact that if you CAN experiment, you WILL in a home planetarium.  So I do it constantly - but theres a dark side - no pun intended - I tend to look at the same couple constellations as I shift skies, projectors, light sources, light source POSITIONS (a whole topic).   So this morning I found a wonderful position for my old Spitz A3 starball, donated by Harold Clutter.  Summer Milky Way arching beautifully - teapot and top of the scorpion dancing along the horizon in the south .   but then there was this whole patch of sky to my chagrin I couldnt identify.   Yes, lost in my own sky again.   It should be easy I thought, just north of the M of Cassiopea (the regal queen is on her head, to quote a song of mine) ... but WHAT are those stars, I couldnt recognize them.   Heres the funny thing though.  As I walked through the predawn darkness back to the house, I decided I needed to grab a starmap and check out that region ..   then I stopped dead in my tracks.

And looked UP.  The real stars glimmered above, the same stars I had just left in my universe.  Only these were much bigger - in that much bigger universe.   I had literally forgotten to look up at the real stars above my head.  I was so immersed in my private universe, I thought I needed a map.   I quickly was reminded I was looking above the M at Andromeda and Pegasus - I rushed back into my little theater and sure enough, NOW I saw them tilting there.   I didnt need a map.   I realized, I look up so much, I forget to look .. UP.  

A Brief Overview of the Home Planetarium Association

What does a flashlight bulb and 2 D batteries under a pin-pricked cake box have to do with a Zeiss Skymaster?  Worlds apart technology-wise, they both create something.  Something wonderful! Oddly, both these ‘technologies’ are now equally obsolete, but not everywhere.  At the Home Planetarium Association they proudly live on, side by side!   We just like stars.  And we like looking up in nature’s sky, but we can also create our own.  And we do.    We say,  yes,  you need one at your house.   

Begun in the early 90’s, HPA is an extremely loose confederation of old schoolers.  We never left the Adler in 1965 to put it in a nutshell - or any of the old star palaces, with their hushed back-lit galaxies and their charming horizon silhouettes.  We still read ‘Startlit Nights’ by Peltier, and if Orion was projected on our chest during some otherwise forgotten planetarium show of our youth, it was part of the fun.    But it’s a loose group because everyone brings their own passions to the table, and they vary widely.  Some build bigger cake boxes using pinhole projection, some restore old Minoltas and can tell you the differences between the Spitz A1 and the A2.  Some collect the fantastical space toys of long ago.  We’ve noticed everyone has their own ratio of interest - a sortof combined  Educator/Showman/Builder/Dreamer index.  For example, I’m about 20 percent educator, 20 percent showman, 20 percent builder, and 40 percent dreamer.  I chase those passions, memories, and in my recreated sky I relive everything I ever loved about the sky and write about it.  What’s your HPA ratio?

The pioneers who got me started were Steve Smith of Arizona and Dick Emmons of Ohio - both were building and showing stars in the 40’s and 50’s.  Enthralled with their exploits, I have drilled several star globes and cylinders used in my shows at Sumner Skies Planetarium, under a homebuilt 15 foot dome out back.  My primary projector is Steve Smith’s amazing 20 inch copper cylinder, which is not only an incredible projector, it’s a piece of folk art.  I was privileged to obtain one of Mr Emmon’s last hand drilled metal globes, and have since donated it to the Planetarium Museum in Big Bear Lake California - oh yes, theres a planetarium museum - an incredible collection I was thrilled to contribute to, a homebuilt ’cakebox’ sitting next to legendary commercial monsters of the midway.  

How many home planetarians are there?  Just a handful of home built planetariums in operation today are known to HPA, using old school projection.  The video revolution has charged ahead while we sit and wonder why our Aldeberan isn’t quite as bright as it should be!  Pinhole projection is easy - tiny bright light sources can be found at your local dollar store.  Domes are hard, and we call the period of struggle to build one ’dome purgatory’ only half in jest, but they can be built our of anything - umbrellas, parachutes, thin paneling, sheets, or as in my case waterproof insulation panels (waterproof because my dome leaks, which fits in nicely discussing the rainy season)  But HPA has a saying - For what is a dome really but an impossibly graceful construct of curved nothingness - it must be strong enough to hold up the bowl of night, yet it supports only the unfathomably tiny pressure of the myriad star points.   A dome’s job is to disappear anyway!  Nice work if you can get it. 

So HPA tries to do a little of all this and more - the subjects are endless.  Music.  Shows.  Special Effects.  We call anything that can be used in our skies ‘good junk’  HPA has an occasional newsletter that is in its 22nd issue, yet thinks nothing of taking a year or two off to pursue that Renwals Cosmorama I last saw at EJ Korvettes in 1962.  HPA’ers understand.  The stars are patient and so are we. Recreating infinity takes as long as it takes.   In summary, the Home Planetarium Association welcomes any aspect of old school planetariums, whether you build them, collect them, or just fondly remember them.   Its organic and really rests on just one central tenet - yes, you need one at your house!