When photographing this line of transmission towers my immediate impression was of looming, bestial giants, actually glowering over the ranches, as if the homes were domesticated animals cowering at their feet. But the fullness of the towers' threat was mitigated by the softness of twilight. Furthermore, as I did the drawing for this piece, I was charmed by how the towers’ lines were connected, as if the giants were all too human, reaching out with wearied arms. The pattern of the lines' swooping is metronomic but graceful, a little too soft to be combative, but more like a dance.
In particular, I thought of a chorus line: a disciplined choreography of arms and legs, precise rhythms, geometric repetition, but all that graced by swinging skirts or arching plumes, colors of attraction. I thought of how people pay to see such a show; even at great prices, they sit at the performers’ feet to be overwhelmed and provoked.
On these lands a reverse process is happening: one generation of the ranches' owners were paid to be the audience. How must the current residents feel? Buzzed and used, like coming away from a Vegas bender? And how do the dancers themselves feel at the end of this day? Are they rubbing their feet and wishing for a few minutes of rest, even if in some seedy apartment?
