The death of Neil Armstrong occasioned a lot of interesting reflections out in the geekosphere; the most unexpectedly enlightening was this from Charles Apple, the visual journalism columnist for the American Copy Editors Society [sic]:
Keep in mind as you put together your Neil Armstrong packages tonight… — Charles Apple — copydesk.org
The problem as Apple sees it? We don’t have any good pics of Armstrong on the Moon, for the same reason that we don’t have many pics of me on vacation: Armstrong was holding the camera. For example, the pic at the left–which you saw all over the place attached to Armstrong obits–is Buzz Aldrin, not Neil Armstrong, and is a primitive photoshop job, to boot.
Once Apple pointed this out, I realized that I’d actually seen the undoctored photo (shown to the right) on plenty of occasions, but the framing of the two is so different that I actually had always thought they were two distinct photos.
As Apple works through the scant selection of legit photos of Armstrong on the Moon, what we find are a tiny handful of candid shots that, in many ways, are more wonderful than the iconic posed photo of Aldrin. This unconventional view of Armstrong, focused on his work and so far from anything remotely like home, is really poignant:
And this one–where we can see an actual human face in a little super-bathyspheric bubble in that dead gunpowder landscape–absolutely gives me shivers:
Anyway, it all reminded me of my favorite portrait of Armstrong on the Moon–which, in fact, is embedded in that iconic picture of Aldrin that Apple was so annoyed to see palmed off as a pic of Armstrong. Check out the reflection in Aldrin’s golden face-shield:
At first I thought what so touched me about this picture was the work ethic it highlighted: Armstrong was the first human to touch the moon, and was perfectly happy to let the other guy be in all the pics, because that was Armstrong’s job. A guy like Armstrong is called “hero” all the time, usually because of his willingness to face down death, but I’ve gotta level with you: that’s never impressed me much. I’ve known plenty of totally pieces of human garbage that would face down death. Frankly, it’s sorta what the male animal excels at. What *I’ve* always admired about astronauts–about scientists like Aldrin and Armstrong in general–is how many names appear at the top of those academic papers; I’m impressed by their willingness to work in teams and share credit and share findings and help the whole of humanity pull itself up by its bootstraps, even if it means forgoing some small sliver–or some giant chunk–of personal fame or riches or glory. To me, Armstrong is a hero not because he got all Quixote on the Moon, but because he understood how important that Sancho Panzas and Dulcineas are to executing the Impossible Dream.
I like Armstrong because he was willing to accept the possibility that he’d end up as history’s footnote, he’d hold the camera instead of standing in front of it.
But that’s not all of it. I also love this self-portrait because of the pose. The viewfinder on the Hasselblad Armstrong used (and evidently left) on the Moon was on the camera’s top, often called a “waist-level viewfinder.” Here’s a pic of the rig mounted to his EVA suit:
When I was little my grandma always favored a goofy old Brownie box camera–something quite similar to this Brownie Reflex Synchro–which also had a waist-level viewfinder. Since her vision was a touch presbyopic, “waist-level” actually was more like “sternum level.” My point being, Grandma’s photo-shooting posture–head sagging, shoulders slumped and folded in around her camera, hands cradling a magic box topped with a glowing, misty vision of the world we were in–and Armstrong’s were the same.
All of which is to say, in my heart of hearts, I love this portrait of Armstrong because I love my grandmother, who is also dead, and who we will likewise never see again.
Welcome to the only game in town. Amen
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