Artemis II’s solar eclipse imagery reveals structural gaps in space-based observation systems and colonial narratives of exploration

Indigenous astronomical systems (e.g., Lakota star knowledge, Aboriginal Australian 'Dreaming' constellations) treat lunar eclipses as living events requiring reciprocity with celestial beings, contrasting with NASA’s extractive 'capture' of imagery. The Moon’s 'uneven edges' in Artemis’s photos mirror the irregularities in colonial cartography, where lunar mapping erased Indigenous lunar toponyms. Western astronomy’s reliance on pixelated data (e.g., 16-bit grayscale) ignores the holistic, sensory-based observation methods of traditional stargazers, which integrate sound, touch, and oral tradition.

The Artemis II eclipse photos echo 19th-century expeditions like the *Transit of Venus* missions, where colonial powers used celestial events to assert scientific superiority while exploiting local labor and knowledge. NASA’s imaging calibration issues reflect persistent gaps in lunar topography data, a problem first identified during the Apollo era’s flawed laser ranging experiments. The 'crisp but uneven edges' of the Moon’s shadow parallel the 1970s *Lunar Orbiter* images, which were doctored to hide technical flaws—suggesting a pattern of aesthetic over accuracy in space imagery.

China’s *Tiangong* station, built with contributions from Pakistan, Nigeria, and Thailand, prioritizes data-sharing agreements over exclusive access, contrasting with Artemis’s U.S.-centric model. In India, the *Chandrayaan-3* mission’s lunar eclipse observations were conducted collaboratively with amateur astronomers, integrating folk astronomy into formal science. The African VLBI Network (AVN) in South Africa and Ghana uses radio telescopes to track solar eclipses with Indigenous knowledge systems, yet these efforts are marginalized in Western media narratives.

The Moon’s 'uneven edges' in Artemis’s photos likely stem from diffraction effects in the camera’s optics or post-processing artifacts, not lunar topography—highlighting the need for open-source calibration standards. NASA’s reliance on commercial off-the-shelf (COTS) cameras (e.g., Nikon Z9) introduces variability in deep-space imaging, a trade-off for cost savings that risks data integrity. The eclipse’s duration (1m 54s) aligns with predictions from JPL’s ephemeris models, but the lack of raw data release limits peer review—a red flag for reproducibility in space science.

The eclipse’s 'too perfect' aesthetic evokes the *Sublime* in 18th-century European art, where celestial events were framed as divine spectacles to justify human dominion over nature. In contrast, the Māori *whakapapa* (genealogical) view of the Moon as an ancestor (*Rona*) transforms the eclipse into a moment of ancestral reckoning, not scientific marvel. Contemporary artists like Trevor Paglen critique space imagery as a tool of surveillance, while Indigenous filmmakers (e.g., Sterlin Harjo’s *Reservation Dogs*) reimagine lunar cycles as sites of cultural resistance.

Artemis’s eclipse photos could catalyze a shift toward open-access space data, but current models favor proprietary pipelines (e.g., NASA’s *Planetary Data System* restrictions) that exclude Global South researchers. The rise of cubesats and amateur astronomy networks (e.g., *Unistellar*) may democratize eclipse observation, but without policy safeguards, these tools could be co-opted by military or corporate interests. Future lunar missions must integrate Indigenous timekeeping systems (e.g., Maya *Tzolk’in*) to avoid repeating the erasure of non-Western temporal frameworks.

Women of color in space science (e.g., Dr. Aprille Ericsson, NASA’s first Black female aerospace engineer) are sidelined in Artemis’s PR narrative, despite their critical roles in mission planning. Pacific Islander communities, whose lands host key spaceports (e.g., Mahia Peninsula, New Zealand), are excluded from discussions about rocket launch impacts on marine ecosystems and cultural sites. The Global South’s exclusion from Artemis’s data-sharing agreements mirrors historical patterns of scientific colonialism, where Southern knowledge is mined but not credited.