Art Blog #146: How Carl Sagan Inspired Me

Long Summer Evenings

As a kid, I used to stare up at the stars. Those long summer evenings were fueled by this fascination of this distant glow. But it wasn’t just the night sky that grabbed my imagination—it was the way Carl Sagan explained it. Watching reruns of Cosmos: A Personal Voyage felt like being in a science class taught by the coolest professor ever. Sagan’s way of blending big ideas with simple storytelling hit me in a way that textbooks never could. He made the universe feel not just understandable, but approachable, like it had something personal to say to me.

Carl Sagan’s Legacy in Pop Culture

Think of shows like Young Sheldon or movies like Interstellar. They’re all about making science and exploration exciting, relatable, and maybe even a little cool. Sagan was doing this decades ago. It´s quiet amazing if you think about it. His iconic "Pale Blue Dot" speech could easily be a viral video today. The way he broke down the origins of the universe felt less like a lecture and more like a mind-blowing revelation—the kind that makes you hit pause just to process it.

For me, this wasn’t just inspiring. It became the foundation for how I approach art. Sagan’s ability to zoom out and show the big picture, then zoom back in and highlight our role in it, made me think differently about abstract sculpture. If he could explain the universe in a way that felt poetic and practical, I wondered if I could do the same with art.

Abstract Art Meets Science Fiction

Abstract art is all about interpretation. It’s not supposed to show you the universe as it is but how it feels. Watching Interstellar for the first time reminded me of this. The visuals of wormholes and time dilation weren’t meant to be literal; they were meant to make you feel the enormity of space and the weight of time. Sagan’s work planted that same idea in my head—that art and science could collide in a way that felt universal.

One of my pieces, "Coaxial Cluster" pulls directly from Sagan’s descriptions of star formation. Picture swirling sections of steel, cut with precision to resemble the chaotic elegance of gas clouds in space. It’s like the visual effects in Guardians of the Galaxy but stripped down and tangible. That’s the beauty of working with metal; it’s solid, yet you can shape it into something that feels alive. And there is something truly special about working with steel, particularly metal, and how it relates to the birth and death of a star. Let me get to that in some of my next art blog articles.

Connecting Space and Paleontology: Galactic Fossils

Here’s a crossover you don’t expect every day: space and dinosaurs. On the surface, they’re completely different, but both are about uncovering origins. Sagan’s fascination with the evolution of life on Earth nudged me to think about how life’s story connects to the stars.

One sculpture I created, "Nebular Attractor" blends these ideas. It’s a mash-up of a galactic relic with a vibe of a fossil skull, reminding us, quiet literally in this case, that everything from prehistoric creatures to the elements in our bodies comes from stardust. It’s the kind of concept you’d see in a deep-dive episode of Cosmos or even a scene in Jurassic World where they try to explain DNA splicing. I call my sculptures Galactic Fossils and that´s what they are, a combination of space fascination with an anticipated idea of what a fossil found on an exoplanet could look like. Most of the paleo artists and holywood movies are showing the speculative form of the species in their lively form, mostly in the future. I am showing the remains of the species after their extinction.

Movement Brings Art to Life

Sagan didn’t just describe the universe as static. He emphasized its constant motion, its endless cycles. That’s why kinetic art became a natural extension of my work. Think of it as interactive sculptures that move—powered by touch, movement, your own curiosity. It’s like giving the viewer a hands-on experience of space’s motion of life.

Take "Eurypter" or "Axial Cluster" for example. This piece features concentric rings that rotate gently, mimicking a movement of a species. Watching it feels a bit like seeing the docking scene from Interstellar, where precision and movement come together in perfect harmony. It’s designed to make you stop and engage, much like Sagan’s way of pulling you into his narrative.

Exploring the Unknown

Sagan’s real superpower was making exploration feel inevitable—like it’s baked into our DNA. That’s something I try to reflect in my art. Every new sculpture is an experiment, a way to push boundaries and see what happens when you mix science, storytelling, and creativity.

One of my favorite pieces, "Pulsar Deflector" dives into the idea of life beyond Earth. This sculpture contemplates the possibility of discovering a developed life form on Jupiter's moon Europa. As anticipated by Carl Sagan and set into motion by NASA's Europa Clipper mission, we will, in just a few years, be able to answer quite accurately whether this is possible. Until then, it remains a piece of Space Art—a daring sculptural anticipation of a discovery either deep in the universe or surprisingly close to our home planet, Earth.

Art Doesn’t Exist in a Vacuum

What made Sagan so impactful was how he connected people. He didn’t just talk about science; he invited everyone to be part of the conversation and spark their own imagination. That’s what I aim to do with my sculptures. They’re not just objects; they’re starting points for questions, ideas, and maybe even debates. But most of all they should inspire. Carl Sagan’s work has aged well because his ideas were never just about science. They were about curiosity, exploration, and connection—ideas that are timeless. For me, his legacy is a reminder that art doesn’t exist in a vacuum. It’s part of a bigger conversation about who we are and what we’re capable of.

Every time I start a new sculpture, I think about what Sagan might say about it. Would it make someone pause and think about their place in the universe? Would it spark the same curiosity that he ignited in me? These questions guide my work, pushing me to keep exploring.

Conclusion

Carl Sagan showed us that the universe is both massive and personal. His ability to bridge science and storytelling inspired me to find a similar balance in my art. By combining abstract sculpture with themes from space and science, I hope to create pieces that make people stop, think, and maybe even dream a little bigger.

In the end, it’s not about recreating the cosmos in steel and motion. It’s about capturing the feeling of discovery and wonder that Sagan shared so brilliantly. Somewhere out there, something incredible is still waiting to be known—and through my art, I’m just trying to keep that spirit alive.

Peter von Hauerland