Verner Panton, Stacking Side Chair, 1959-60, produced 1967–79. Fiberglass; 32 1/8 × 19 1/4 × 18 1/2 in. Manufactured by Vitra GmbH for Herman Miller International, USA. Denver Art Museum: Funds from 1996 Design Council Benefit, 1996.382.1.
Peter Ghyczy, Garden Egg Chair, 1968. Lacquered molded polyurethane with synthetic textile upholstery over polyurethane foam padding; 39 ½ x 29 x 34 in. Probably manufactured by VEB Synthesewerk, East Germany. The Collection of The Kirkland at the Denver Art Museum, K2003.0184
Vance Kirkland, Recent Dream of Space, 1974. Oil paint and water on linen; 75 x 100 in. The Collection of The Kirkland at the Denver Art Museum, KVK1974.06 © Estate of Vance Kirkland
Videosphere/Space Helmet TV (Model 3240 GM), 1970. Molded plastic, acrylic, metal, and chrome-plated metal; 14 × 10 1/4 in. dia. Manufactured by JVC (Victor Company of Japan, Ltd.), Yokohama, Japan. The Collection of The Kirkland at the Denver Art Museum: K2004.0009.
More than half a century earlier, the Apollo 11 mission landed on the moon. It is difficult to overstate the impact of the Apollo program. These missions inspired millions, helped spark an environmental movement, and laid the groundwork for technological advances that eventually made projects like the James Webb telescope possible. The Apollo missions didn’t just change science; they reshaped culture.
As Artemis begins a new chapter in human space exploration, it raises an intriguing question: could a new generation of missions inspire artists and designers in the same way? During the mid-twentieth-century space exploration permeated every corner of culture, including art, design, and pop culture. Designers and artists found endless inspiration in the cosmos, embracing forms and ideas that felt futuristic and otherworldly. Advances in plastic technology also expanded what designers could create. Suddenly, a chair like Verner Panton’s Stacking Side Chair became possible.
Today, however, our feelings about plastic are more complicated. We understand the environmental costs, and designers are increasingly searching for sustainable alternatives. Stories like that of the Garden Egg Chair give me hope. The original chair, designed by Peter Ghyczy in 1968, was made of polyurethane, a material that is far from eco-friendly. In 2022, his son, Felix Ghyczy, reimagined the design using an unexpected material: algae. Believing algae could become a viable replacement for plastic, he used the chair to demonstrate its potential. The result is both inspired and elegant, offering a glimpse of a possible solution to one of our modern challenges.
Curating the exhibition Space Is the Place: Art & Design in the Atomic Age gave me time to reflect on the space age imagery. I also watched a lot of Star Trek in preparation. I know what you’re thinking: “Man she has a hard job.” But researching this era while simultaneously following news about the Artemis mission was a fascinating experience. It felt as though I was working on this exhibition at exactly the right moment. Space is always a popular topic, but in 2026 it became the escape many of us need. Like people around the world, I followed the crew’s 10-day journey, completely enthralled, and found myself wondering what impact it might have on culture in the years ahead.
I will never forget arriving at my friend’s house on April 10, 2026, and watching the splashdown as a group. We cheered loudly as our crew came home safely. I will also never forget learning that the person overseeing the splashdown operation was a woman. My friends and I exchanged a smile that somehow said both, “It’s about time!” and “Of course it’s a woman.” Moments of shared awe like that are rare, and I could not help but feel like we all needed one.
Then something else happened: I went to see Project Hail Mary. At the time, I had not read the book, an oversight I have since corrected, and months later, I am still thinking about the film. It paid homage to the sci-fi classics that came before it while taking a giant leap forward with breathtaking cinematography that made audiences feel transported. The scene in which Rylan Grace floats outside the planet Adrian lives rent-free in my head. And, of course, because I am a Vance Kirkland fan through and through, I could not help but think about his paintings and how he would have loved this movie.
While watching the film, I found myself asking the same question that had followed me throughout the Artemis mission and while curating Space Is the Place: what happens to culture when people start imagining the future together again?
Film and television can have an incredible ability to shape culture. Consider the cult classic, 2001: A Space Odyssey, which influenced countless designs during the mid-century era, including JVC’s iconic Videosphere (often called the Space Helmet TV). Will Project Hail Mary have a similar effect? Only time will tell.
And as the missions continue and we travel farther into the unknown, will creatives feel the same burst of imaginative energy they did more than 50 years ago? Will artists paint the cosmos with renewed vigor? Will designers find inspiration in fictional concepts like astrophage and xenonite? Will humanity experience a new surge of optimism and wonder as we imagine a brighter future? Will we develop a deeper appreciation for this planet and recognize how fortunate we are to call it home?
I can’t answer any of these questions, but I do think that now is the perfect moment to ask them.
This year could mark the beginning of a new space age for the twenty-first century. And if it does, I welcome it with open arms.
