Orbital Sunrise

Summary

Podcast Summary: The Anthropocene Reviewed – “Orbital Sunrise”

Host: John Green
Date: August 26, 2021

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Episode Overview

In this poignant episode of "The Anthropocene Reviewed," John Green explores the theme of "Never Seen, Never Will" through the lens of orbital sunrises — a magnificent phenomenon experienced only by astronauts. Blending reflections on human curiosity, art, and the unknowable, Green uses the story of cosmonaut Alexei Leonov, the first person to create art in space, as a metaphor for the ways we seek to render the unseen visible. The episode ultimately celebrates art as a tool for connection, imagination, and survival, and ends with a powerful message about shared human endeavor.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

The “Never Seen, Never Will” Thought Experiment

• Inspired by Sarah Urist Green and David Brooks:
  John references his wife’s book, You Are an Artist, which includes a prompt encouraging consideration of things we’ve never seen and probably never will ([01:13]).
• Albrecht Durer’s Rhinoceros Etching:
  Green cites the famous example of Durer’s rhino, imagined from descriptions rather than direct observation, highlighting how “we tend to fill in blank spaces...with guesses deeply shaped by our humanness” ([03:03]).

Quote

“When Durer read that the rhino had skin like armor, he imagined 16th century European human armor. Because what else could he imagine?”
—John Green ([03:11])

The Limits of Human Knowledge

• Green inventories the vastness of what we still don’t know: from dark matter to the origin of names, and even why we make art ([04:02]–[04:51]).
• He reflects on how much of human existence is grounded in mystery and creative speculation.

Quote

“We know almost nothing about the so-called known universe, including how or if it will end, or whether it is the only universe.”
—John Green ([04:34])

Art as Tool and Consolation

• Art is likened to toolmaking—a way to give form to the intangible ([05:16]).
• Yet even this is too narrow:
  “I don't know what art is. I don't know why we make it. I don't know almost everything.” ([05:42])

Introduction to Orbital Sunrises

• The orbital sunrise: experienced by astronauts as the ISS orbits Earth every 90 minutes, yielding 16 sunrises per day ([06:14]).
• John invokes astronaut testimonies—Victor Glover, Mae Jemison, Alexei Leonov—revealing the “orbital perspective” and a newfound sense of planetary unity and fragility ([07:14]).

Notable Quotes

“Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.”
—Victor Glover, quoted by John Green ([07:14])

“Looking back at our blue globe from such a distance profoundly changed my vision of space and time.”
—Alexei Leonov, quoted ([07:50])

Alexei Leonov and the First Space Art

• Background: In 1965, Leonov embarked on history’s first spacewalk and brought colored pencils and a drawing pad ([08:08]).
• Spacewalk Challenges:
  Leonov barely survived when his suit expanded and he struggled to re-enter the capsule ([11:37]–[13:29]).
• Art in Crisis:
  Calming himself post-crisis, Leonov sketched the orbital sunrise:
  “I tried to capture the different shades of charcoal rings that make up the Earth's atmosphere, the sunrise or air glow over the Earth's horizon, the blue belt covering the Earth's crust...” ([14:15])

Quote

“The first art made by humans from outside of Earth's atmosphere depicts Earth's atmosphere.... he drew home.”
—John Green ([15:16])

The Power of Secondhand Experience

• Green reflects on how he, like most people, can only know orbital sunrises through artists’ and astronauts’ words and images ([16:43]).
• He contrasts photorealistic images with Leonov’s childlike, expressive drawing—struck more by its awe and emotion than its fidelity ([17:06]–[17:16]).

The Dangers of Space and Human Tenacity

• The Voskod 2 mission was fraught with hazards: uncontrolled spins, guidance failure, dangerous oxygen levels, a snowy crash landing, and a night in the Siberian wilderness ([18:02]–[19:38]).
• Yet survival brought with it Leonov’s unique art—a testament to perseverance and reflection.

Art as a Landing Site

• Green uses the metaphor of art as “a kind of landing site in the wilderness” ([21:01]).
• Art becomes a way to glimpse the “never seen, never will,” and a means of emotional survival and connection ([21:03]).

Quote

“I will never see an orbital sunrise. But thanks to Alexei Leonov, I can feel the wonder and consolation of it. Nonetheless, I give orbital sunrises 5 stars.”
—John Green ([21:36])

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Notable Quotes & Moments with Timestamps

| Timestamp | Speaker & Quote | |-----------|----------------| | [03:11] | John Green: "When Durer read that the rhino had skin like armor, he imagined 16th century European human armor. Because what else could he imagine?" | | [04:34] | John Green: "We know almost nothing about the so-called known universe, including how or if it will end, or whether it is the only universe." | | [07:14] | John Green, quoting Victor Glover: "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." | | [07:50] | John Green, quoting Alexei Leonov: "Looking back at our blue globe from such a distance profoundly changed my vision of space and time." | | [14:15] | Alexei Leonov (via John Green): "I tried to capture the different shades of charcoal rings that make up the Earth's atmosphere, the sunrise or air glow over the Earth's horizon, the blue belt covering the Earth's crust, and the spectrum of colors I had observed looking down at the globe." | | [15:16] | John Green: "The first art made by humans from outside of Earth's atmosphere depicts Earth's atmosphere.... he drew home." | | [21:01] | John Green: "For me, art is a kind of landing site in the wilderness. Art is where I go when I do not know where else to go because it can help me to see what I will never see." | | [21:36] | John Green: "I will never see an orbital sunrise. But thanks to Alexei Leonov, I can feel the wonder and consolation of it. Nonetheless, I give orbital sunrises 5 stars." |

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Important Segments & Timestamps

• Setting up the Episode and Durer’s Rhinoceros — [01:13]–[03:45]
• The Limits of Human Knowledge — [03:45]–[05:54]
• What Is Art & Its Functions — [05:54]–[06:14]
• Orbital Sunrise: Definitions and Astronauts’ Perspectives — [06:14]–[08:08]
• Alexei Leonov’s Spacewalk & Sketch — [08:08]–[14:51]
• Reflection on Home & Art’s Power — [15:16]–[16:43]
• Dangers of Space Travel & Survival Story — [17:28]–[19:42]
• Art as Landing Site; Episode Conclusion — [21:01]–[22:16]
• Historic Apollo-Soyuz Handshake Audio — [23:22]

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Memorable Closing Moment

• International Human Camaraderie:
  The episode ends with archival audio from the Apollo-Soyuz mission — the first American-Soviet handshake in space — conveying hope and unity:

  “May our joint work in space serve for the benefit of all countries and peoples on the earth.”
  —Alexei Leonov ([23:22])

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Summary

Through a meditation on orbital sunrises and the first art made in space, John Green crafts a lyrical ode to imagination, the mysteries that define human experience, and the power of representation. From Durer’s imagined rhinoceros to Leonov’s colored-pencil horizon, art becomes both a record and a lifeline for those yearning to see the unseen. Green reminds listeners that even the sights we ourselves may never witness can become sources of wonder and solace through the eyes of others. As always, he concludes with a rating:
“I give orbital sunrises 5 stars.” ([21:36])

Transcript

[John Green]

Hello and welcome to the Anthropocene Reviewed a podcast where we review different facets

[John Green (continued/narration)]

of the human centered planet on a five star scale.

[John Green]

I'm John Green and today marks the

[John Green (continued/narration)]

last episode in our miniseries to celebrate the Anthropocene reviewed book, which thanks to

[John Green]

your astonishing support, has been on the

[John Green (continued/narration)]

New York Times Bestseller list for eight consecutive weeks now.

[John Green]

I am so grateful to everyone who

[John Green (continued/narration)]

has read it and for all your kind messages.

[John Green]

To cite just one example, a listener

[John Green (continued/narration)]

named Madeline recently wrote me to say that she and six friends were reading a single copy in turn, with each of them writing notes in the margins about the book and each other.

[John Green]

I remember sharing a copy of a

[John Green (continued/narration)]

Michael Chabin book similarly with friends when I was young and so that meant a lot to me.

[John Green]

Anyway, thank you for reading it and sharing it. There are still signed copies of the

[John Green (continued/narration)]

Anthropocene Reviewed book available online and at

[John Green]

many bookstores, so if you haven't picked

[John Green (continued/narration)]

one up, now's the time.

[John Green]

Alright, onto the episode. Today I'll be reviewing something I've never

[John Green (continued/narration)]

seen and never An Orbital Sunrise.

[John Green]

Some of you may know that my

[John Green (continued/narration)]

wife, Sarah Urist Greene, is a curator and writer. Her most recent book, you, Are an Artist, features creativity prompts sprinkled with art

[John Green]

historical context, and I often use the book when trying to figure out what to write about or even what to think about. One of the chapters in the book is called Never Seen, Never Will, and it features a prompt from the artist

[John Green (continued/narration)]

David Brooks, who asks us to think

[John Green]

of something we've never seen and probably never will see, and then to find

[John Green (continued/narration)]

a way to articulate that something.

[John Green]

In this context, Brooks discusses a 1515

[John Green (continued/narration)]

etching of a rhinoceros by the artist Albrecht Durer. Durer had never seen, and as it happened, would never see an actual rhinoceros,

[John Green]

but he'd read a description of a rhino that had brought to Portugal in 1510. That rhinoceros went on to die in

[John Green (continued/narration)]

a shipwreck off the coast of Italy.

[John Green]

But using the description and a small sketch, Durer created a very famous image of a rhino, which depicts the animal as having literal plates of armor, complete with rivets. Durer's etching does look quite a bit

[John Green (continued/narration)]

like an actual rhinoceros, which is a testament to his particular genius and more broadly to the capacities of the human imagination.

[John Green]

But in the places where Durer's rhino is different from an actual one, something

[John Green (continued/narration)]

else is betrayed about the human imagination,

[John Green]

which is that we tend to fill in blank spaces or unknowns with guesses that are Deeply shaped by our humanness. When Durer read that the rhino had skin like armor, he imagined 16th century European human armor. Because what else could he imagine? When thinking about what to write or even what to think, my default setting is to focus on what I know, or at least what someone else knows that I can easily learn. And of course, we do know quite

[John Green (continued/narration)]

a lot about ourselves and the universe.

[John Green]

We know about gravity and the structure of DNA and.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

And we know when the Prophet Muhammad led the Muslim community from Mecca to

[John Green]

Medina, and we know how internal combustion

[John Green (continued/narration)]

engines work and the approximate shape of the coastline of Florida.

[John Green]

But the truth is we don't know almost everything. We don't know what dark matter is

[John Green (continued/narration)]

or why there is matter in the universe at all.

[John Green]

We don't know why agriculture developed or why it emerged independently in different human communities that couldn't possibly have known about each other. We don't know how thought works or why some viruses are seasonal. We know almost nothing about the so called known universe, including how or if it will end, or whether it is the only universe. And we don't know who killed Jimmy Hoffa. And we don't know when people started to have names or what the earliest names were. We also don't know why we make art.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

Faulkner said that the work of an artist is to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before.

[John Green]

But it also involves creating out of

[John Green (continued/narration)]

the materials of the earth something which did not exist before. Turning graphite into a drawing or marble into a sculpture, or sound waves into a podcast.

[John Green]

This refashioning is a very old human habit.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

Of course, it is not too distant from tool making.

[John Green]

And indeed it may be that art is a kind of a tool for us, a way into giving form for

[John Green (continued/narration)]

all the stuff that doesn't easily lend itself to form.

[John Green]

But I think even that broad definition is in the end, too narrow.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

I don't know what art is.

[John Green]

I don't know why we make it. I don't know almost everything. I think this is what I find

[John Green (continued/narration)]

so helpful about the never seen, never will exercise.

[John Green]

It reminds me that we don't know

[John Green (continued/narration)]

almost everything and that I have never

[John Green]

seen and will never see almost everything. Which brings us belatedly to the orbital sunrise.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

During the 342 days that astronaut Scott Kelly spent in space in 2015 and

[John Green]

2016, the International Space Station experienced nearly 11,000 sunrises. Because the station orbits Earth every 90 minutes, and with each orbit there is a new sunrise.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

The sun emerging from behind what looks like a long thin arc of blue light.

[John Green]

That blue light is the crust of

[John Green (continued/narration)]

the Earth, the only home for almost all of us.

[John Green]

During these orbital sunrises, astronauts can sometimes

[John Green (continued/narration)]

see other bands of color. White, amber, gold.

[John Green]

And to hear astronauts talk of orbital sunrises is to glimpse how amazing they must be.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

The American astronaut Victor Glover wrote of the bands of color.

[John Green]

They remind me of the scripture in Psalm 30.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning. Many space travelers have written of experiencing so called orbital perspective, Seeing the whole profoundly interconnected planet from afar, teeming with life, vast and resilient and fragile and tiny. Astronaut Mae Jemison said that in space I felt more expansive, very connected to the universe. The Russian cosmonaut Alexei Leonov wrote that looking back at our blue globe from such a distance profoundly changed my vision of space and time. Leonov is most remembered today for taking the first spacewalk.

[John Green]

But he also made the first space art.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

In March of 1965, when he was 30 years old, Leonov visited space with his friend and colleague Pasha Belyayev. The two men orbited the Earth in a tiny spherical spacecraft that was just over 2 meters in diameter. And so they were only allowed a few personal belongings on the trip. Leonov chose to bring a drawing pad and some colored pencils. He'd loved making art since childhood. He wanted to go to art school, but it was too expensive. So he became a pilot. Their mission was known as Voskod 2. Voskod means sunrise in Russian.

[John Green]

And despite lasting for just over one

[John Green (continued/narration)]

day, this space flight contained quite a lot of firsts. Not just the first spacewalk and the first art made in space, but also the first spacecraft landing to occur 1,500 miles off course after its occupants nearly died on several separate occasions. The launch went quite well, and shortly

[John Green]

after entering orbit, Milanov, wearing a spacesuit,

[John Green (continued/narration)]

exited the Voskod capsule via an airlock and floated in space, connected to the spaceship only by a tether.

[John Green]

The event was broadcast live on Soviet

[John Green (continued/narration)]

radio and television, and you can still see it on YouTube.

[John Green]

Watching it recently from the immense comfort

[John Green (continued/narration)]

of my living room in Indianapolis, I watched Leonov push away from the spacecraft, drifting into the void until his tether snaps taut. After the break will turn our attention to a series of unfortunate events.

[John Green]

But first,

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[John Green]

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[John Green]

After only a few minutes of spacewalking,

[John Green (continued/narration)]

it was time for Leonov to re enter the spaceship, lest he run low on oxygen. But there was a problem. His pressurized suit had dramatically expanded in the vacuum of space.

[John Green]

In his memoirs, Leonov recalled, my feet

[John Green (continued/narration)]

had pulled away from my boots and

[John Green]

my fingers from the gloves attached to

[John Green (continued/narration)]

my sleeves, making it impossible to enter the airlock.

[John Green]

The only solution was to reduce the

[John Green (continued/narration)]

pressure in my suit by opening the

[John Green]

pressure valve and letting out a little

[John Green (continued/narration)]

oxygen at a time as I tried to inch inside the airlock.

[John Green]

And so, as his oxygen supply leached

[John Green (continued/narration)]

out into the void, Leonov tried to wedge himself back into the capsule, which he described as an almost impossible maneuver. This was not broadcast live on television. As Leonov put it, from the moment our mission looked to be in jeopardy, transmissions from our spacecraft were suddenly suspended without explanation.

[John Green]

In their place, Mozart's Requiem was played

[John Green (continued/narration)]

again and again on state radio.

[John Green]

The custom in the Soviet Union at

[John Green (continued/narration)]

the time was was for such solemn music to be played after a senior political figure had died. But before an official announcement of their death was made, Leonov's family and friends, who of course, knew what the music might mean, waited for the news with no way of knowing what was happening.

[John Green]

Miles above, as his suit shrank and his oxygen dwindled, Leonov eventually managed to

[John Green (continued/narration)]

get back into the Voskod capsule. He was Drenched with sweat, breathless and overwhelmed with adrenaline, his compatriot Pasha calmed him down, saying that they had 90 minutes before they needed to eject the airlock.

[John Green]

Maybe Alexei could use that time to

[John Green (continued/narration)]

rest or to write up a report of the spacewalk.

[John Green]

But Leonov found that he could not

[John Green (continued/narration)]

neither sleep nor write. Instead to calm himself and capture the moment. He took those minutes to make some art. I reached for my sketchpad and colored pencils and sat quietly, drawing my first impressions of the panorama I had seen while floating free in space.

[John Green]

I tried to capture the different shades

[John Green (continued/narration)]

of charcoal rings that make up the Earth's atmosphere, the sunrise or air glow over the Earth's horizon, the blue belt covering the Earth's crust, and the spectrum of colors I had observed looking down at the globe.

[John Green]

The sketch is simple.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

It was made quickly in a weightless environment with simple drawing instruments, by a person who had just narrowly survived a spacewalk.

[John Green]

But it is also stunningly beautiful.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

A curved band mixing black and blue represents the portion of the Earth visible due to the rising sun, and then above the Earth, a narrow curvature of red, then yellow, and then the black of space. And in the center of the drawing we see the red sphere of the sun almost risen behind the curvature of the Earth.

[John Green]

It says something to me that the

[John Green (continued/narration)]

first art made by humans from outside of Earth's atmosphere depicts Earth's atmosphere. Leonov was astonished by the brightness of the stars from space, but he did not draw that. Nor did he draw himself from floating. Looking up at the spaceship, he drew home. He drew what Mary Oliver memorably called this the one world we all belong to.

[John Green]

I will never see an orbital sunrise in real life. On many levels.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

I'm not cut out for space travel. An inner ear disorder has damaged my sense of balance, for starters.

[John Green]

But also I'm not a pilot or

[John Green (continued/narration)]

an engineer or a billionaire.

[John Green]

I tend to side with Eudora Welty

[John Green (continued/narration)]

on matters of adventure, who once, after acknowledging that she had led a sheltered

[John Green]

life, added, a sheltered life can be

[John Green (continued/narration)]

a daring life as well, for all

[John Green]

serious daring starts from within. My daring also generally ends within, and so I will only ever have descriptions

[John Green (continued/narration)]

and depictions of space, like Albrecht Durer and his rhinoceros.

[John Green]

When it comes to orbital sunrises, I

[John Green (continued/narration)]

am wholly dependent upon the words and images of others.

[John Green]

But unlike Durer, I can find endless

[John Green (continued/narration)]

images and videos of an orbital sunrise. Via a quick Google search, I can read orbital sunrise musings written by dozens of first hand observers.

[John Green]

But Alexei Leonov's drawing, simple, straightforward, even childlike, is overwhelmingly the most beautiful and

[John Green (continued/narration)]

moving depiction of an orbital sunrise I've ever seen.

[John Green]

Precisely because it is not photorealistic. It captures the awe of that moment

[John Green (continued/narration)]

of seeing the sun rise over a very different sort of horizon. After making his sketch of the orbital sunrise, Leonov returned to the business of space travel. And when he and Belyayev ejected the airlock, it led to an unexpected and uncontrolled spin of their spaceship. There was no longer the pleasure of a sunrise every 90 minutes. Now their spacecraft was spinning wildly. With the sunlight streaming in through the

[John Green]

only window, creating a strobe light effect.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

On the ground, Mozart's Requiem played over and over on the radio. While in space, the oxygen level inside the Voskod crept dangerously high. So that any spark risked a massive explosion.

[John Green]

That problem eventually resolved, but was immediately

[John Green (continued/narration)]

replaced by another one. The automatic guidance system of the craft failed, which meant the cosmonauts would have to manually choose a landing site. And calculate the existence, exact timing and length of the firing of their retrorockets to re enter Earth's atmosphere. Leonov couldn't navigate toward the original landing site. So after extensive calculations, he chose a site 1500 miles to the west in a vast wilderness. That way, if they crashed, they at least wouldn't kill anyone on the ground.

[John Green]

The crises did not end there.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

Upon re entry, the landing module initially failed to separate from the rest of the aircraft as planned, which caused the entire spacecraft to spin as it re entered the atmosphere.

[John Green]

The G forces were so strong that

[John Green (continued/narration)]

blood vessels burst in the cosmonaut's eyes.

[John Green]

Finally, the landing module did separate.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

And fortunately, the parachutes deployed as planned. And the cosmonauts returned to Earth.

[John Green]

They landed in a forest in two feet of snow.

[John Green (continued/narration)]

With their escape hatch blocked by a tree that had fallen as the spacecraft barreled into it. The two cosmonauts rocked the capsule back and forth from within for hours to free the escape hatch. And then they spent a very long and very cold night in in the Siberian wilderness. Before rescuers arrived the next day. At last, they skied 9km with a rescue party to a site where a helicopter could land. And that is how the cosmonauts of Voskod 2 survived. And with them, the first picture of an orbital sunrise. I like to look at Leonov's drawing when I am feeling exhausted by despair and drudgery. Or when I feel the weight of longing and fear pressing in on my chest. I look at the picture and think of all that had to happen for that drawing to exist for Leonov to exist for anything to exist. I look at the drawing and take a long slow breath and think of how my lungs were made for this air.

[John Green]

For me, art is a kind of

[John Green (continued/narration)]

landing site in the wilderness. Art is where I go when I do not know where else to go because it can help me to see what I will never see. Not just orbital sunrises, but the way down stuff too abstract and nebulous to have a name. Through art, paradoxes of consciousness resolve for me. I see what I will never see. I know what I will never know, and I survive what I will not survive. I will never see an orbital sunrise. But thanks to Alexei Leonov, I can feel the wonder and consolation of it. Nonetheless, I give orbital sunrises 5 stars. Thanks for listening to the Anthropocene Reviewed, which was written by me, edited by Stan Muller and produced by Rosiana Halse Rojas. Hannis Brown makes the music. Special thanks to Sarah Urist Green, whose book you are an Artist has helped

[John Green]

so many people, including this one, come

[John Green (continued/narration)]

into deeper touch with their creative impulses. Thanks also to David Brooks for sharing the never seen, never will art assignment. I'm also indebted to the dual memoir Two sides of the Moon, which Alexei Leonov wrote with the American astronaut David Scott in 1975. In 1995, Leonov went to space again, this time to lead a mission in which the Soviet Soyuz spaceship docked with an American Apollo spaceship. As the capsules opened, Leonov shook hands with the American astronaut Thomas Stafford. The two remained friends for nearly 45 years, until Leonov's death in 2019.

[John Green]

I want to leave you today with

[John Green (continued/narration)]

with some sound from that first meeting of American and Soviet astronauts in space. A moment of hope and camaraderie and shared human endeavor. Thanks for being here with us.

[Alexei Leonov]

Go ahead. Go ahead. Tom. Lexi. Just a moment. Okay, turn on the camera. Hit the revoke. Okay. May our joint work in space serve for the benefit of all countries and peoples on the earth.

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