Courtesy: Astrolab

 
 

Unfinished (Hope)

In December 2025, the Griffin Mission One Moon lander will launch from Kennedy Space Center’s Launch Complex 39A, the very ground from which Apollo astronauts once set forth on humanity’s first journeys to the Moon. This time it is a passage without return. The lander will carry a small rover to the Moon’s south pole, into craters locked in permanent shadow, places where sunlight has never touched and where ancient ice may still endure, waiting to open a new chapter of exploration.

Inside the rover are fourteen photographs of Earth. Taken over the past half century by Apollo astronauts and others, from lunar orbit and from the far reaches of space, these images changed how we see our world. More than simple pictures of a planet, they revealed the fragile and solitary presence of life in the vast expanse of space.

Now they will return to the Moon, etched onto Kodak subminiature film. Made by human hands, seen by human eyes, and once cherished by humanity, they will rest in a quiet place beneath an endless lunar horizon.

On the Moon, the chemical bonds that hold these images will weaken. In temperatures that swing from minus 173 to plus 127 degrees Celsius (minus 280 to 260 degrees Fahrenheit), time will erase them grain by grain until the memory they hold is gone. This fading is not an accident. It is the point. It mirrors the fate of all memories, all stories, all civilizations: they vanish. Yet in this slow vanishing, there is also a gesture of hope—that what fades can still be remembered, and that awareness may outlast the image itself.

These images first showed Earth as it truly is: a small, pale dot, alone in the endless dark. They reminded us that our world can break, that the blue we take for granted is delicate and fleeting. Yet their meaning depends not only on what they show, but on what we choose to see, or refuse to see. This project is dedicated to the future generations who will live with the consequences of our actions in the decades ahead.

On the Moon, the film will forget the Earth.

The question is whether we will.

 
 
 

Courtesy: Astrolab

 
 

Before the photographs of Earth recorded on film journey to the Moon, light will pass through it in the darkroom—a single beam, a fleeting exposure—drawing its images onto paper as prints in their first and final form. From this, six sets of fourteen prints will remain on Earth, one set for each inhabited continent: Africa, America, Asia, Europe, Oceania, and Antarctica. These prints owe their existence to the film, like a child carrying a parent’s memory—gone from reach, yet present in ours, as long as we choose to hold space for it.

On the Moon, the film’s images will fade, their vision of Earth slipping into silence. No hands will cradle them, no eyes will follow their lines. They will dissolve into dust and time, unseen and unmissed.

Yet the prints endure on Earth—echoes of the film’s lost gaze—scattered across the six inhabited continents. How long they will last, no one can say. Like all things, their time is finite. We might try to preserve them, but their meaning lives not in the paper alone—it lives in what we pass on, with or without the prints in hand.

This project is a reminder of the fragility of Earth and of our memories. It is not about sentimentality. It is about responsibility, and above all, about hope.

 
 

Selected Images

 
 
 

Behind the fourteen selected photographs lie countless others that were not chosen. From the tens of thousands of images of Earth ever taken, this project focuses mainly on those that reached the eyes of people around the world at the time through newspapers and other media. Among them is one intentionally lesser-known image. After the Apollo 13 explosion, damage to the service module cut off power, the temperature inside the spacecraft began to fall, and the crew faced a life-threatening rise in carbon dioxide levels while relying on the lunar module for survival. By the time the photograph AS13-63-9045 was taken, three days later, the emergency fix had stabilized the air, though the cabin remained near 40 °F (4.4 °C) with the astronauts cold, dehydrated, and rationing every watt of power and ounce of water. With a safe return to Earth far from certain, the astronauts looked toward and recorded the sight of our planet. In the midst of extreme anxiety and tension, what lay before their eyes was the quietly shining blue world — the place they had departed from, and the one and only place to which they had to return.

 

Sketch

 
 
 

Planned Landing Site at the Moon’s South Pole

 
 
 
 

Gratitude

Xin Florence Zhang
Alfredo Jaar
Carl Sagan
Apollo Astronauts
Astrobotic Technology
Blue Moon Camera & Machine
Moon Gallery Foundation
Moscow State University of Geodesy and Cartography (MIIGAiK)
NASA