Apollo Astronauts Weren’t Just Heroes—They Were Fantastic Photographers

Inside the golden age of space photography.

Ask people to name a seminal photographer and they'll probably say Ansel Adams. A few might suggest Dorothea Lange, and the really knowledgeable may offer Henri Cartier-Bresson. Fine photographers, all of them, but ask Dutch designer Simon Phillipson, and he'll start naming the 33 astronauts of the Apollo missions. To his mind, their work stands apart, because it expanded our understanding of what it is to be human, "to live on a delicate little orb circling the sun."

You need only look at "Blue Marble," the breathtaking image of Earth taken from aboard Apollo 17, to see his point. Few things have so forcefully driven home the wonder, and fragility, of life as that iconic image of Earth set against the vast expanse of space. And so of course it appears among the 225 photos in Apollo VII – XVII, the stunning photo book he wrote with designers Floris Heyne, Joel Meter and Delano Steenmeijer. The book makes a compelling argument that Phillipson is right in naming the astronauts who ventured into the void.

“We wanted to give them a place where we can nominate them as some of the most significant ‘photographers’ in human history,” he says.

Photos from the Apollo missions—from the iconic to the B-side bloopers—abound online and in countless books. And you've probably seen many of the photos. But not like this. The authors spent a year restoring the images, which they culled from NASA, the Hasselblad archive in Sweden, and the personal collection of astronaut Walter Cunningham. The team used Adobe Lightroom and Photoshop to remove any evidence of dust and scratches, then corrected the colors to make them realistic. The results bring the Apollo missions to life, and reflect a labor of love. “It became our goal to produce a beautifully printed book that really does justice to the Apollo imagery,” Phillipson says.

In the early days of the space program, NASA only dabbled in photography. Engineers and astronauts were too busy figuring out how to actually venture into space, and return safely, and cameras required entirely too much room. Walter Schirra changed all that. The astronaut burst into tears when the brass told him he couldn't bring his Hasselblad aboard Mercury Atlas-8 in 1962. They relented, and NASA soon embraced photography.

The agency named Richard Underwood its first chief of photography. He was a visionary who advocated for experimenting with cameras during the Mercury and Gemini programs. Later, he taught Apollo astronauts how to frame shots, set exposures, and calculate focus, and encouraged them to tote their Hasselblads on personal trips to hone their skills. “Your key to immortality," he told them, "is in the quality of your photographs and nothing else."

Buzz Aldrin (left) and Neil Armstrong (right) during their Apollo 11 Extra Vehicular Activity training exercises

NASA/Apollo VII – XVII

In 1968, Apollo 7 astronauts Walter Cunningham, Walter Schirra and Donn Eisele carried a Hasselblad 500c camera modified with larger knobs and other space-suit friendly features. They snapped more than 500 photos on the 10-day mission, following the "Target of Opportunity" charts that NASA's Photographic Technology Laboratory created. The document listed things the astronauts might want to shoot, indicated the proper settings to use, and whether a single image or time-lapse series might be best. Of course, the astronauts also photographed anything that caught their eye. “Their photographs have the feeling of holiday snapshots,” Phillipson says.

The role of photography only deepened with subsequent missions. Astronauts, scientists, and engineers used a range of cameras—the Hasselblad Electric Camera, the Hasselblad Electric Data Camera, the Hasselblad Super Wide Camera, and a Nikon 35mm Photomic FTn—to identify lunar landing sites and document the moonscapes they found there.

They also document the emotions and moods of the astronauts. You see Walter Cunningham’s serene, sunlit face as he rests in the cockpit of Apollo 7, and an awed David Scott emerging from the command module of Apollo 9 for an incredible view of earth. You can almost feel the excitement of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin as they walk on the moon, and the anxiety of the men aboard Apollo 13 who, somehow, remembered to snap photos even as they struggled to return home. "As the missions progress, you can see that they become more relaxed with their image making as there was less burden and stress on making sure that they bring back good images," Phillipson says.

In doing so, they made sure everyone, everywhere, could appreciate the majesty of space, and their place in it.