Smithsonian.com

Tai Shan (2007) by Meghan Murphy. Image courtesy of the National Zoo.

Friday, January 29: Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain
Betty Edwards’ Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain was a mind-blowing book in which she asserted that artistic ability was not a matter of natural gift, but rather, a matter of changing how you perceive the world around you—and how you go about translating it to your sketchpad. In this Resident Associates Program event, participate in exercises such as contour drawing, blind drawing, drawing positive and negative space, and rendering light and shadow, allow students to focus in depth on observational drawing from still life, the figure and portrait models. Tickets are required. Call 202-633-3030 for prices and availability. Resident Associates Program, 2:30 PM.

Saturday, January 30: Tai Shan’s Farewell Celebration

Thanks for the memories, Tai Shan! That’s right folks, on February 4, the panda cub who captured our hearts is leaving on a jet plane—he won’t be coming back again. Come on out to the National Zoo and help give the little guy one heck of a sendoff. The day will be chock full of activities: learn about the Zoo’s role in the ongoing international efforts to conserve the panda population, listen to veterinarians talk about how they care for these rare bears, make your own Tai Shan-themed greeting cards, a Land O’ Lakes tribute to “Butterstick” (Tai Shan’s nickname when he was born), and much, much more! Also, the first 50 kids (ages 12 and under) to visit the FONZ membership table at the Fujifilm Giant Panda Habitat will receive a giant plush panda. And, with that, so long, farewell, auf weidersehen, goodbye Tai Shan! Free. National Zoo, 11:00 AM-3:00 PM.

Sunday, January 31: Book Signing

Robert F. Door will be available to autograph his book Hell Hawks!: The Untold Story of the American Fliers Who Savaged Hitler’s Wehrmacht. Free. Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center, 1:00-4:00 PM.

For more information on events and exhibitions at the Smithsonian museums, check our companion website, goSmithsonian.com, the official visitor’s guide to the Smithsonian.

Linda Welzenbach, the manager of the Natural History Museum's meteorite collection, puts the "Lorton Meteorite" on a scale in the collection's vault. Photographs by Erica R. Hendry

Around this time each year, geologists from the department of mineral sciences at the National Museum of Natural History anxiously await the arrival of hundreds of meteorites that are collected annually from Antarctica. The space rocks are sent thousands of miles first by ship, and then by truck to the museum on the National Mall.

What the geologists weren’t expecting when the shipment of 1,010 meteorites arrived last week was that a meteorite would crash down practically in their own backyard. It slammed through the roof of a doctor’s office in Lorton, VA, just a half hour’s drive away.

“It was good timing, we were lucky—or, I guess, that meteorite is lucky it came at the right time,” said Carri Corrigan, a geologist at the museum, who was already at work analyzing this year’s meteorite harvest.

Though thousands of metric tons of space rock reach our planet each year, much of it burns completely as it passes through the earth’s atmosphere. The rocks that do make it are more likely to land in the sea or in desolate terrain (Antarctica is a great place to find them because the dark rocks are visible on the ice) than they are to land in populated areas. In fact, you’re more likely to be struck by lightning than you are to be hit by a meteorite—the only recorded instance of human impact was in Sylacauga, Alabama in 1954, when Elaine Hodges was struck by a meteorite in the hip while napping on her couch. (She survived but, Ouch!)

Corrigan says she can think of only two meteorites (aside from the one recovered in Lorton) that fell and were then recovered in the past year: one in West, Texas; the other near St. Catharines in Ontario. To have one so close, at a time when analysis was already underway, was “truly special,” Corrigan said.

It also meant that I had a chance to visit the U.S. National Meteorite Collection (run by the museum) as analysis got underway. I was one of the few people able to see and hold the fist-sized meteorite—ash gray with sparkling pieces of metal and a burned charcoal-gray fusion crust.

Of course, I didn’t know at the time that, as Corrigan explained, the dark exterior of the meteorite was actually a fusion crust, left by the residue of melted rock as it flew through the atmosphere, or that the sparkles that caught my eye under the microscope were actually metal.

But then again, I also didn’t expect the “Lorton meteorite” to be so small—between one-half and three-quarters of a pound—compared to the big, hurling balls of green fire I associated with meteorites, thanks to the science fiction movies I watched as a child.

A tiny chip from the Lorton meteorite was put on a slide (top left) in a tray along with five other samples from Antarctica, which went in a large electron probe for analysis.

We had to use a sample much smaller than that—a chip that fit neatly in the center of a one-inch glass slide—and place it into a table-sized electron microprobe, which streamed 20 nanoamps of current through the sample and allowed us to take a closer look. It’s similar to the way other gems and minerals in the museum’s collection, like the famous Hope Diamond, and lava and salt rocks from Hawaii, are analyzed, Corrigan said.

When the Lorton sample came under the probe, what appeared on the trio of screens beside it looked almost like a density map, with misshapen ovals and circles in differing shades of gray and black, and occasionally, a brassy yellow.

The researchers told me the look is typical of an ordinary chondrite, the kind of meteorite Corrigan and others suspect the “Lorton Meteorite” to be, and the kind of meteorite that comprises the majority of the museum’s collection. Ordinary chondrites, and other types of chondrites, come from the asteroid belt.

The brassy yellow ovals indicated metal, bright in color because of their higher iron metal content, which caused them to reflect more clearly under the probes, said Linda Welzenbach, a museum specialist and the meteorite collection manager. The duller, almost mustard yellows, would indicate metal that had more iron sulfide, she explained.

But Corrigan flew past the yellow circles on the backscatter image in front of her, past the black fractures and dark gray, indicating rivers of feldspar, to zoom in on the lighter gray circles called chondrules, the crystallized mineral droplets that give chondrites their name.

Chondrites have higher amounts of iron, as opposed to the large amounts of calcium and aluminum found in lunar meteorites, bits of the moon that land on the Earth. Types of chondrites are distinguished by their total amount of iron, Corrigan said. They measure that amount with the probe, which detects the ratios of minerals called olivine, pyroxene and feldspar. The gem version of the olivine mineral is peridot (the birthstone for August) and the compound thought to make up most of the mantle of the earth. The “Lorton Meteorite” itself is likely an L chondrite, which has a low iron content, though Welzenbach was hesitant to identify it until all of the readings had been analyzed.

The Lorton meteorite, seen in the museum's Mason-Clarke Meteorite Vault, broke on impact, leaving a small view into its interior.

“Part of the reason we like to study [olivine] in meteorites is that it will help us learn about earth as well,” she said.

Back in the Mason-Clarke Meteorite vault, where meteorites are stored, Linda opened the box that held the “Lorton Meteorite,” broken into three pieces from the fall. Put together, the meteorite became almost whole again, with the missing chunk offering a glimpse of the sparkling interior. It’s similar to how visitors to the museum will see the meteorite if the Smithsonian gets to call itself the owner. The doctors’ office where the meteorite was found turned it over to the Smithsonian for analysis, but according to today’s Washington Post, ownership issues are complicating whether or not the museum will get to keep it for display.

Either way, the chance to analyze the meteorite is invaluable.

“It’s not everyday a meteorite lands in our backyard,” Corrigan said.

Laurence Graff with Wittelsbach-Graff Diamond. Photo by David X Prutting @ Patrick McMullan.

Last month, the National Museum of Natural History announced that rarely-seen, Wittelsbach-Graff Diamond would be temporarily joining the Hope Diamond in the museum’s gem collection. Tomorrow, that diamond goes on display.

“It is a truly remarkable opportunity,” said Cristián Samper, the museum’s director, at this morning’s press preview, “to have two of the great blue diamonds of the world together in the same museum.”

Standing alongside him were Laurence Graff, chairman of Graff Diamonds International Ltd. and owner of the gem, and Jeffrey Post, curator of the Natural History museum’s National Gem Collection. The three rolled a cart out and peeled back a blue cloth to reveal the glistening, 31.06-carat diamond, perched atop a cylindrical case.

The Wittelsbach-Graff Diamond passed through many hands to get to where it is today. Philip IV of Spain originally gifted it to his daughter, the Infanta Margarita Teresea, in 1664, when she was engaged to Emperor Leopold I of Austria. It switched hands to the Wittelsbachs, members of the ruling House of Bavaria, in 1722. Then, in 1931, a glass knockoff thought to be the actual diamond was sold at a Christie’s auction. The real one turned up in Belgium in 1951 and appeared at the Brussels World’s Fair in 1958. (It hasn’t been on public display since.)

Museum Director Cristián Samper (left), Laurence Graff (center) and National Gem Collection Curator Dr. Jeffrey Post (right) introduce the Wittelsbach-Graff Diamond. Photo courtesy of Smithsonian Institution, Chip Clark.

Graff purchased the diamond for $24.3 million at an auction in London in December 2008. At that time, the stone was chipped and blemished, but Graff was confident in the skill of his craftsmen, who repolished it. The Gemological Institute of America assessed the diamond after the work was completed and declared it “the largest Flawless or Internally flawless, Fancy Deep Blue, Natural Color we have graded to date.”

Post explained that it is trace amounts of the element Boron that gives the diamond, “one of the earth’s rarest creations,” its blue color. In the hundreds of years of diamond mining, he adds, the Hope and Wittelsbach-Graff Diamonds stand in a class of their own. The geologist was particularly thankful for the opportunity to study both diamonds side-by-side, which he did along with other experts just last week. It is widely accepted that both diamonds are from the Kollur mine in India’s Golconda District. Some even speculated, given their similar steely blue color, that they were cut from the same original diamond. But Post and his colleagues have solved the mystery once and for all. “They are not brother and sister, but perhaps distant cousins,” he concluded.

Graff wondered aloud about the romantic and mysterious stories the stone might play a part in over the next thousand years. He picked up the diamond, ever so carefully, and rested it on the back of his hand, as if it were a ring. ”It’s an incredible feeling to be holding the world’s most valuable diamond,” he said.

The Wittelsbach-Graff Diamond will be on display in the Harry Winston Gallery, on the museum’s second floor, beginning tomorrow, January 29 through August 1, 2010.

A member of the crew from ThemeWorks worked detail into a cave vignette taking shape at the Natural History Museum in preparation for the new David H. Koch Hall of Human Origins, which will open March 17. Photo by Erica Hendry

Over thousands of years, early humans made their mark with hand prints and paintings on the stone walls of caves and other hillside shelters and grottoes—but one thing is sure; humans rarely had to build the caves themselves.

That was exactly the work that foreman Jason Horne and his crew had been engaged in recently at their job site—the Natural History Museum’s David H. Koch Hall of Human Origins, the new 15,000-square-foot human evolution exhibition that will open March 17.

Horne’s crew, crafts people and designers from the High Springs, Florida-based fabrication company ThemeWorks, arrived en masse to create a cave vignette, which will showcase reproductions of hand prints and paintings from several different populations of early humans living in or around caves in Africa, Australia, Southeast Asia, Europe, South America and North America.  The exhibit will also include recreations of both the Laetoli footprints and the Lucy skeleton.

Since the drawings and hand prints that will appear on the museum’s faux cave will represent those from so many different locations, the crew couldn’t use any one actual cave as inspiration, said Junko Chinen, a project manager at the museum.

So Horne created a model from pictures and videos shot at several caves. Working from a foam model on a one-inch scale, the construction team began with a frame made of foot-long metal rods, filling the space in between with metal netting.

As the construction team continued the cave slowly came to life, adding two layers of “rock” concrete, since one alone wasn’t strong enough to support the kind of detail needed to make it realistic.

The real secret, Horne explained, in making this exhibit come to life is texture. “If you get that wrong it will look totally fake,” he said.

To get it right, the crew used simple hand tools to help them create the faulted and fractured look of an authentic cave. With a rake, dragging it horizontally across the first layer of concrete, they crafted the cave’s rugged, distinct lines and rough edges. A trowel shaped the contours of the walls and small paint brushes added more texture.

Once the cave is complete, the crew will next turn to another task. They will recreate six clusters of hand prints, modeled after actual prints found in caves the world over, from Gua Tewet Cave in Borneo (the hand prints are 12,000 to 10,000 years old); to Elands Bay Cave in Western Cape, South Africa (about 2,000 years); to Mt. Borradaile in Arnhem Land, Australia (about 20,000 years old); to Pech Merle, France (about 25,000 years old); to Canyon de Chelly in Arizona ( about 1,000 years old) to Cueva de las Manos in Argentina (about 9,300 to 2,600 years old).

A reproduction of the “yellow horse,” originally drawn on a cave ceiling in Lascaux, France about 17,000 years ago. Photo by Erica Hendry

An art gallery of sorts will also take shape inside the museum’s new cave gallery. Paintings, or the works of art, crafted by our ancient human ancestors will be carefully drawn with paintbrush, hands and other tools onto the walls. The drawings, range from the “yellow horse,” drawn on the cave ceiling in Lascaux, France about 17,000 years ago, to an undated dance scene found in a cave in Orange Spring in the Republic of South Africa.

And then, they team will move onto the Laetoli footprints—but Horne says his own bare feet won’t be involved in that process.

“We’ll carve them by hand,” he said. “It’s the only way to make them precise.”

Nuns such as civil rights activist, Dolores Bundy (c.1970) have been a force for social change. An exhibit of photographs and other artifacts is on view in the International Gallery at the Ripley Center. Photo courtesy of the Oblate Sisters of Providence

I think most people are confused by nuns. I am Catholic and still my knowledge of the sisterhood comes in embarrassingly-little bits and pieces—that they take vows of chastity and obedience, devote their lives to prayer, wear habits (and, from the stories my mother’s told me about her Catholic school education–they can be strict!).

So when I heard that the Smithsonian’s S. Dillon Ripley Center is hosting a traveling exhibition called “Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in America,” I was intrigued and decided to check it out.

The exhibition, which opened January 15 in the International Gallery, brings to light another dimension to Catholic sisterhood. Against all stereotypical typecasting, these woman are cast as pioneering, and surprisingly progressive, leaders in their communities who helped to build America’s healthcare, education and social services, at a time even when women didn’t have the right to vote. They raised funds to build schools, hospitals, orphanages and colleges before most women in the United States could legally own property, negotiate contracts and acquire loans. And they entered the workforce decades earlier than most women.

“They didn’t wait for ‘somebody else’ to do the job that needed to be done,” says Ellen Dorn, director of exhibitions for the International Gallery. “They just went right into action when a need arose.” Like during the Civil War, when more than 600 sisters served as nurses, or the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, when nuns marched at Selma and with Martin Luther King, Jr.

“Women and Spirit” takes what it calls the “quiet contributions” of Catholic sisters and, finally, makes some noise about them. With the help of 70 artifacts, the exhibition highlights the achievements of many sisters. Just to name a few, there is Mother Alfred Moses, who helped develop the Mayo Clinic in response to a horrific tornado in Rochester, Michigan, in 1883; Katherine Drexel, who founded Xavier University in 1915, then the only Catholic school for African Americans; and Carolyn Farrell, a sister who, in 1980, became the mayor of Dubuque, Iowa.

Dorn hopes that visitors take away “a new or renewed respect and appreciation for what these women have done and continue to do.” I, for one, did.

“Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in America” is open through April 25, 2010. From there, it travels to three other locations.