The Towers
I've lived in this neighborhood for almost three years now, and I don't recall exactly when I first recognized that these towers had a strange pull. Maybe only about a year ago, though it's even more recent that I'm able to describe the experience with any precision while capturing its essence. They are fascinating. And also unsettling.
The three TV broadcast towers rise from a residential neighborhood, reaching far into the sky above the surrounding trees and houses. At about 594 feet, 637 feet, and 682 feet tall, they can be seen from far away. Their red and white metal lattice structure appears plain from far, but a closer look reveals intricate details. Communication equipment attached to them like industrial ornaments. Arranged in a tight triangle, they are a beautiful sight to behold, especially in the soft light of morning or early evening.
But as evening advances, their presence begins to transform. They become more prominent in the fading twilight sky as the red aircraft warning lights begin to glow and blink. They register their presence from blocks away; not demanding attention but also hard to fully ignore. Sometimes they emerge suddenly from behind buildings or tall trees. In that moment, I catch myself bracing, feeling irrationally exposed before these looming structures. Walking beneath them creates a peculiar meditative state, though sometimes the experience tilts toward unsettling rather than awe-inspiring or beautiful.
Reflecting upon these experiences led me to the concept of threshold or sublime experiences - moments that present a mix of competing, even contradictory feelings without cancelling each other out.
A cocktail of feelings which momentarily shifts you into a different perception of reality.
Not threatening but ominous. Silent, watchful, looming. Majestic and awe-inspiring. Unsettling. Beautiful. Sublime.
These towers, looming over my neighborhood, have become my personal encounter with the Industrial Sublime.
