Why is the Sun Red?
One of my sketchbook drawings with the red sun motif.
The idea behind the red sun in my physical pieces was to have this foreboding tone to them. I wanted to have this feeling of something off about the world the sun's in, something coming that can’t be explained or controlled, or really understood. Not to say that such events do not happen in nature and I’m not referring to sunsets.
If you were on a planet and looked up into the sky to see that your sun was red, then whatever planet you happen to occupy doesn’t have long before it’s destruction. In fact, every planet in that solar system is doomed. Why does this happen and how do I know this? I had taken an enthralling interest in astronomy as a child. From middle school all through high school, I had a deep fascination with the cosmos. Learning about how stars work was one that had struck quite the chord with me. Taking billions if not more years to fully age and fade, stars are a magnificent staple in our very existence. Naturally as everything organic lives, stars die too. When that happens they go through an amazing myriad of changes that can be different. Stars turn super dense and form white dwarfs, go supernova and make new stars, nebulae, and galaxies, create black holes and more to this day that we don’t know. My focus was on something that some of the largest stars do. They transform into red giants. they’re called this due to the ominous red hue that they let off as they get to the final years of their lives. Oddly enough, this is around where stars are at their coolest, but their mass makes up for that so it doesn’t make too much of a difference. As this happens the magnetic nature and gravitational force of that solar system is broken as entire planets are consumed within its mass, spelling indefinite doom for those worlds.
So what does that have to do with my artwork? The foreboding mood of it all had made me wonder what it would be like to witness that happen from the perspective of the planet. Morbid, yes, but the fascination isn’t mine alone. And there’s a beauty to it all, in a way. It’s why I choose the base medium to be ink most of the time. An already drab, and empty world of monochrome, delighted by the sight of it’s sun. Dying it may be, but like fresh cut roses, their deep rich color is only temporary. Nothing lives forever, and it’s almost a cruel joke that the things most beautiful leave us so soon. The irony in this being a celestial body, the sun, is not lost on me. Making me feel like if one were to witness such an event how would they ultimately feel? Terrified by all belief, or marveled by the beauty in it all? would they live like each day were their last, or learn to live with their aging solar neighbor?
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