Photography in Space: How it started?
Fifty years ago, the following photograph was captured on the surface of the moon. We had made it. This was what wonder looked like.
But, how did an astronaut take such a picture? What kind of camera works on the moon? Friends, let me tell you about the mission to shoot in space.
In 1962, astronaut Walter Schirra was preparing to go into orbit with NASA’s Mercury program. No one had said anything about taking pictures, but Schirra was an amateur photographer. He asked the brass: why not take his camera, a Hasselblad 500C, into space?
Sure thing, said NASA. Scientists ditched the camera’s leather covering, auxiliary shutter, reflex mirror, and viewfinder to make it lighter. And they adjusted the film magazine to take 70 exposures instead of the usual 12. (Could we… not have kept that improvement?)
Schirra’s mission was a success. He flew six orbits of the Earth, and the Hasselblad captured something few had ever seen.
Schirra’s success set off a boom in NASA’s photo department. Hasselblad began to develop a specific, space-ready model for upcoming missions. The cameras would have to work perfectly in extreme temperatures and zero-gravity by astronauts in bulky spacesuits. Could they do it?
You bet. In 1965, the first spacewalk was captured by James A. McDivitt…
…and the astronauts of Gemini 4 brought back this shot of the Arabian peninsula.
A year later, we caught a glimpse of what life looked like inside the capsule. Here, Tom Stafford concentrates on maneuvering his spacecraft from the cockpit.
From Gemini 11, we were given this view of India and Sri Lanka (then Ceylon.)
And aboard Gemini 12, Buzz Aldrin was captured hanging out the side of his ship.
In 1968, William Anders shot “Earthrise” during lunar orbit on Apollo 8: “the most influential environmental photograph ever taken.”
A sweet aside: You can listen to the original recording here.
Anders: Oh my God! Look at that picture over there! There’s the Earth coming up. Wow, that’s pretty.
Borman (joking): Hey, don’t take that, it’s not scheduled.
Anders: You got a color film, Jim? Hand me that roll of color quick, would you…
Lovell: Oh man, that’s great!
But, there was further to go. In 1969, when the Apollo 11 mission blasted off, there were two high-power Hasselblads on board. (If you want to nerd out, one was a silver Hasselblad Data Camera, fitted with a Zeiss Biogon 60mm ƒ/5.6 lens. The other, a black Hasselblad Electric Camera with a Zeiss Planar 80mm ƒ/2,8 lens. Nerve-wracking, the HDC had never been tested in space before.)
While the HEC was mounted inside the lunar module, Armstrong was fitted with the HDC. It was attached to his chest like so.
Armstrong’s HDC was fitted with a Réseau plate. The plate is the reason why his photos are dotted in little crosses — they were designed to help scientists back home measure distances.
One small step… The astronauts touched down, and Armstrong stepped out. And here’s what they saw.
An aside: because he was equipped with the camera, there aren’t many photos of Armstrong on the moon himself. Except, of course, the famous reflection in Aldrin’s gold-plated visor.
In two hours, it was all over. The camera was hoisted up to the module, and the astronauts removed the film. In order to lose weight for a successful return, they left both cameras behind on the moon as they set off back to earth.
The photos weren’t just scientifically valuable. They were great PR for the space program. They were vital to the environmentalist movement. And, to all those who’ve seen them in magazines, in textbooks, and on Instagram, they’ve been momentous in helping us imagine the potential of humankind.
So thanks, Walter Schirra, and the engineers at Hasselblad, and the astronauts who lugged those boxy cameras way up there.
May these photos continue to inspire wonder as we head towards the next star.
Credit: Rosa Furneaux
