Blurred Lines
Words and photos by Sarah Milligan
No matter how remote we go, I notice power line garlands gracing every landscape. They hang draped in imposing confidence, sometimes whimsical and sometimes stoic in the outstretched arms of the pylons, but always a reminder of our connection to “civilization” in these often desolate places. My eyes are drawn to these out-of-place power cables on a long drive through a repetitive landscape. I often wonder where these lines are heading, if their final destination is the small town we stopped at for bad coffee and clean bathrooms, or if these industrial umbilical cords are carrying energy to light up the skyline of a far off city.
Maybe these cables are the only bond some folks will ever have to these wild and remote areas. In the city, I hurry under power lines and my mind is preoccupied with incessant internal chatter, existential musings, petty pondering, but mostly with the nagging feeling I’m late for something. I never look up or wonder what terrain the cables are connected to.
I imagine this landscape without power lines. Would erasing any signs of “civilization” in these remote places make it easy to forget the bread crumb trail we leave wherever we go? Or would the landscape sigh without the weight of another stake in its flesh? As the clouds roll in, my eyes follow the sagging lines. They hover above ground, suspended by ingenuity and kept relevant by need or greed, I’m not sure. The lines blur as we drive by.
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I will never look at power lines the same again! "Industrial umbilical cords" - absolutely brilliant! One can hear the wires buzzing now....