Space Time Technology

As a culture, we think about time and its passage in ways that distinguish us from any of our animal relatives out there. In the space of a museum, display allows visitors and enthusiasts alike to view artifacts that connect them to human spaceflight. So, in the setting of an air and space museum like this one, astronaut watches attract particular interest from both an intense collecting community and visitors just stopping by.

In the era of human spaceflight, the community of amateur horologists found a story ripe for their attention: the selection of the Omega Speedmaster Professional as the chronograph (a watch with stopwatch and other functions) certified by NASA for use on spaceflights, both inside and outside the spacecraft. This month marks the 60th anniversary of NASA’s announcement that the Speedmaster was space qualified for human spaceflight. Through online and in-person interactions, this community shares a passion for this type of technology. And wristwatches are an ideal candidate for understanding collectors and collecting because they objectify the self, thanks to a watch’s relationship with time. Collectors and their strong interest in the astronaut chronographs make them unforeseen stakeholders within the museum world because of their persistent activity in online communities where they share insights and questions about some of the most famous wristwatches ever worn. And now, looking back on 60 years of Omega Speedmasters in space, we know that they performed exceedingly well from that first spacewalk with one by Ed White on Gemini IV to the most recent one by Anne McClain and Nicole Ayers in early May 2025.

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Connecting to the lived experiences of astronauts orbiting or otherwise traveling outside Earth’s atmosphere requires tangible evidence and interpretation of that work. Using one of the most personal items worn on the body, the history, care, and meaning of the Museum’s astronaut chronograph collection illuminates a way to understand the significance of timekeeping on space missions. In all, the Smithsonian’s collection of chronographs includes 63 Omega Speedmasters and Speedmaster Professionals, the vast majority of which arrived at the Museum in the mid-1970s following the Apollo-Soyuz Test Project.

Documents from the Museum’s registrar files reflect a protracted discussion about the ownership of the timepieces issued to astronauts for their missions. Less than a year after his move from NASA to the Smithsonian, National Air and Space Museum director and Apollo 11 command module pilot Michael Collins received a letter in February 1972 from his former boss, Deke Slayton, requesting the return of his government-owned chronograph. Collins wrote back days later to Slayton suggesting that instead of a direct return, Collins would convey it directly to the Museum as part of the NASA-NASM Artifacts Agreement of 1967. This agreement, which lasted over 50 years, granted the Smithsonian an opportunity to select NASA “items no longer needed for programmatic use” before NASA offered them to other institutions. Collins wanted to fulfill that agreement with his chronograph, an object of potentially high monetary value, which were often considered personal possessions by former military pilots. Collins, in his position as Museum director and advocate for expansion of the Museum’s collection and fulfillment of the Museum’s agreement with NASA, became the source of a struggle inside NASA between management and the astronauts (which later transformed into a struggle between the astronauts and the Museum) over physical and legal possession of these potentially high value items.

In the spring of 1977, 55 chronographs were offered to and formally accepted by National Air and Space Museum curators. Documents also reflect the arrival of the hand-carried shipment, just as chronographs were couriered to and from watch servicers in New York City during the Gemini and Apollo programs.

As the current Smithsonian curator for astronaut chronographs, I have served as their caretaker since late 2009. Through the opportunity to undertake a conservation project with the Omega Museum from 2013 to 2018, I sought to understand their greater significance to the material culture of astronaut life in space and the wearers of them in their work at NASA. Telling stories about these objects, their context of use and present state as museum artifacts, and their meaning to their users, not only constitutes a significant part of my professional responsibility as a public historian, but also indicates a unique opportunity to find ways of connecting our lives on Earth to our surrogates in space.

In the years following their arrival at the Smithsonian, and as part of the understanding NASA and the Museum created with the astronauts who begrudgingly returned their chronographs, some astronauts entered into loans with the Museum. Museum loan agreement documentation, and later loan renewals, stated cleared that such an arrangement should be temporary, and as federal property, the chronographs should be placed on display at a museum of the astronaut’s choosing. Many did eventually follow through with this request, though a handful persisted in personal possession until the early 2000s. The last two were returned in November 2013, returned by handby museum staff. Now, they can be seen on display around the world, including three (Gordon Cooper’s from Gemini V, and those of Neil Armstrong and Michael Collins from Apollo 11) in the exhibition Destination Moon at our National Mall location.

By that time, a project to inspect, clean, and conserve these chronographs was already underway as a partnership arrangement between the Smithsonian and Omega Museum in Bienne, Switzerland. The opportunity provided reason to reflect on the history of these timepieces, how NASA arrived at the purchase of Omega Speedmasters and Speedmaster Professionals for the astronauts, and what meaning can be inferred from the ongoing attachment between user and chronograph. As curator, I ensure that as artifacts, chronographs receive proper care, storage, and when possible, display within exhibitions where visitors can connect to the experiences of keeping time in space. Fundamental to how that connection is built is understanding that measuring of time, as a regulated part of lives using mechanical devices, has origins in highly technical and scientific professions related to spaceflight.  time, as a regulated part of lives using mechanical devices, has origins in highly technical and scientific professions related to spaceflight.

Speedmasters remained in service for decades, issued to astronauts but rarely serving as their primary wristwatch. NASA adjusted flight qualification standards in later programs, which permitted the use of quartz watches beginning in the Space Shuttle program, but only inside an orbiter. In NASA cataloging, these timepieces are frequently referred to as “crew preference watches,” generic terminology that may indicate the likelihood that the Speedmasters had outlived their utility to astronauts working in a pressurized compartment. For spacewalking, Omega chronographs are still the only NASA flight qualified option, and use continues through the latest International Space Station spacewalks.

In recent years, Omega developed what it calls the Skywalker X-33 model, a hybrid liquid crystal display (LCD) watch that operates on a quartz movement to keep the watch hands moving during a spacewalk but offers the complexity of a chronograph when the LCD screen operates inside the space station (the cold of space makes LCD screens inoperable when outside the spacecraft). NASA transferred one of these to the Museum in the summer of 2022, though they remain quite rare outside of astronaut hands. In the meantime, while astronauts incrementally move towards a return to the Moon, their timekeeping devices are also modernizing to meet their needs.

What can be made of the personal connections between astronauts and their mission-used chronographs? Omega Speedmasters and Speedmaster Professionals intimately connected the astronauts to considerations of time and memory. This situation mirrors that of owners of jewelry worn regularly: a source of memories no user desires to relinquish. While some astronauts readily returned their flight chronographs and never requested personal loans, many felt quite strongly about their ongoing “possession” of these items. Through some form of customary practice, military pilots often kept watches issued to them during test pilot work. In the case of NASA, however, management felt a need to strictly control objects used on spaceflights, prompting the artifact agreement with the Smithsonian before Apollo astronauts ever left Earth.

But are these astronauts wrong for pushing back, for taking a significant amount of interest in these items or seeking to put them on display at publicly accessible locations? Not by any stretch of the imagination. My curatorial job is to ensure the safety and well-being of the objects under my care, which includes ongoing communication and research to  understand the equipment needed by astronauts for such extraordinary work and the requirement to maintain a sense of time during million-mile travels. These artifacts are perhaps the best way to connect to the needs and experiences of astronauts considering the near ubiquity of watch use on Earth.