To Whom it Concerns,
I am writing out of concern for the fate of Buhl Planetarium and the Zeiss
Projector. I grew up in
Many of my best childhood memories are of Buhl. In addition to the planetarium,
I remember the Hall of the Universe, the BioCorner, the Hall of Mirrors, and
the Siderostat refractor telescope. I especially loved the Foucault’s Pendulum,
the dignity of its measured procession, and the sense of majesty and permanence
imparted by its carved marble floor and elegant brass rail.
My father always tried to inspire a special love and appreciation for science
and nature in my sister and me. For our bedtime stories, he often told us the
mythologies of the constellations. We would act out the tales, using our
stuffed animals as stand-ins for the celestial actors, Raggedy Ann for
Cassiopeia, a stuffed horse for Pegasus, Kermit the Frog as Perseus, et cetera.
But these stories reclaimed their epic proportions during the star shows at
Buhl Planetarium. I remember watching the strange, insectoid silhouette of the
projector rise from the floor, like some bizarre creature emerging from the
underworld, bearing explanations for stellar parallax, retrograde motion, and
Kepler’s first law. I remember the thrill and fascination of watching the stars
shift across the dome, smiling at the giddy vertigo of that momentary doubt
whether it was the stars or I that moved. I loved the sense that mystery could
be explained, that the universe could become accessible, having been lovingly
mapped over the centuries, transposed onto the celestial sphere, and then
precisely projected onto the dome of the planetarium, like a gift from
scientists and historians to laymen, so we could all marvel at the beauty of
the universe together.
I am now taking an astronomy class at San Francisco State University with Dr.
Debra Fischer, a founding member of the California and Carnegie Planet Search
Project, the planet-hunting team responsible for discovering over 100 planets
outside of our solar system. Dr. Fischer
recently invited me to work with her research team, the N2K Consortium, which
will continue the search for extrasolar planets. I definitely attribute my
enthusiasm for astronomy and clear advantage over most of my fellow students to
my experiences at Buhl. I’m sure these factors contributed to Dr. Fischer’s
decision to ask me to join her team.
I’m always astounded by the way astronomy
at once humbles and elevates us. It must be the most profound measure of
humankind that although we are confined to one tiny planet; although we are
blind to most of the sights of the universe (being able to perceive only a
fraction of the electromagnetic spectrum); although our tenure on this planet
is but an eye-blink in the lifespan of the universe -- still we have the
intelligence, logic, and determination to seek out what lies beyond, to
quantify what we cannot even imagine, and - most importantly - to share
our understanding with others.
It distresses me that such an elegant and educational piece of scientific
equipment as the Zeiss projector could be discarded, as though it were not
representative of humankind’s most brilliant and astonishing
accomplishments. There’s no other way to say it: People don’t make things
like this anymore. The Zeiss is from an era of durable craftsmanship,
when technology was both precise and human, before post-war technologies made
things lighter, cheaper - and more expendable. It is a relic, certainly, but a
useful relic, all the more worthy of appreciation and respect because it still
works. The sum of centuries of knowledge and effort are distilled in a machine
like the Zeiss projector: it is the embodiment of why people learn, study,
teach; it is the best humanity has to offer itself.
But the greatest value of the Zeiss, I believe, is its potential as an
educational tool. I hope the curators of the Children’s Museum will find
a way to incorporate the Zeiss projector into their exhibits in the old
planetarium building; I cannot imagine how anyone purporting to be concerned
with the scientific education of children could decide to put the Zeiss
projector in a warehouse instead of making an effort to use it. It defies
common sense, as well as proper reverence for both the scientific legacy of
humankind and the more recent history of the city of
Also, I urge the City Planning Commission to recommend historical landmark
status for the old Buhl Planetarium building, and that Pittsburgh City Council
vote to approve such historical landmark status for Buhl Planetarium. Along
with the
Best
regards,
Katherine
Roolf