In modern western culture, the relationship between humanity and the technological world in which we dwell is typically expressed in imagery that is pejorative rather than celebratory. Technological infrastructure has been cast in the role of the necessary evil, its consumptive presence tolerated because of the salvation that it offers. There are many reasons to believe that this attitude could be re-considered, and that the full integration of infrastructure systems and culture might help us to unify the realms of technology, environment and human existence.

This issue is addressed here through a discussion of the electrical infrastructure, one of the most dominant and pervasive of our technological dependencies.


Electrical Infrastructure

Although the phenomenon of electricity was observed and electrical experiments were conducted and recorded as early as 1660, the battery, developed by Volta at the end of the 18th century enabled an increase in inquiry and experimentation due to the supply of a continuous electric current. By the 1850's the potential of electricity as a widely distributed source of power for light and electromagnetic energy was being discussed by scientists and members of the newly emerging profession of electrical engineering. Several electric plants were built for the supply of electricity for specific and localized uses, such as the provision of light for a single building. There were still limitations to electricity as a distributed system; the copper wire manufacturing technology was still lacking, and the systems for efficiently generating enough energy for distribution were not in place. Carbon Arc lights, which were used before the incandescent light was developed, did not provide reasonably consistent illumination.

By the 1880's there was general recognition of the economic advantages of central power stations generating electrical current at high voltages, and serving large areas. On September 4, 1882, the switches were pulled in Edison's Pearl Street electric station in New York, marking what history generally acknowledges to be the beginning of the electric utility industry. The Pearl Street Station provided power for incandescent light (developed by Edison and his colleagues) to 59 customers within a one square mile area. Edison's remarkable talent for invention and application combined with his entrepreneurial skills enabled him to turn a series of ideas into a workable and viable energy system that captured the imagination of a society.

Since those beginnings, the entire continent has become `electrified'. Electric power capabilities in North America have doubled every ten years over the last seventy years. Our use of and reliance on electrical energy is now so extensive and absolute that it is very difficult to imagine a world without it.

Light produced by the unconscious flick of a switch, or the convenience of the latest appliance or electronic device as close as the nearest wall receptacle, are only the most immediate and obvious of our dependencies. Almost every facet of daily life incorporates the use of electricity: in our homes, offices and institutions; in powering the technologies for maintaining urban systems; in manufacturing the products that we use daily; and in supporting the rapidly growing information and communications industries.

The high demand for electric power has driven the development of the electric utility industry to become one of the world's largest businesses, with annual revenues estimated at $800 billion. It is no wonder then that the electric power system has emerged as a significant force in shaping the landscape of the 20th century.

Although other technologies and infrastructure systems have also had an impact on our lives and landscapes, the electric power system has some particularly interesting facets to it:

1. It is the primary form of energy used in our daily lives and has established its presence in all sectors of society and in almost every inhabited place in North America.

2. It is this system that provides the power for most of the other technologies.

3. The elements of the system, although everywhere in our built environment, are difficult to perceive as a coherent and understandable pattern.

4. In spite of the massive infrastructure that supports the power utilities, we cannot see electricity, nor can we easily imagine how it flows through wires in the same way that we can imagine the flow of water through a pipe.

5. Even though we cannot see this force and most of us do not understand the complex scientific theory of its substance and nature, we have faith that when we flick that switch, the light will go on.

For the user population in general, electricity seems to reside somewhere within the triangle of science, magic and religion.

"explicit landscape technology is the contextual fabric of our modern experience" (Thayer, 1994).

The direct and indirect physical presence of the electric power system evident in the forms, structures and compositions of the landscape can be explored through the main components of the system: generation, transmission, distribution and consumption.

In the first three components, generation, transmission and distribution, the utilitarian character of the electric system is expressed directly through the infrastructure that enables its wide usage. Perceived as neither art nor architecture, but rather as elements of visual pollution, these artifacts and structures are grudgingly tolerated as necessary evils required to maintain an expected quality of life. In some cases the imagery can indeed be directly associated with a threat to human and environmental health and well-being (e.g. nuclear plants, coal burning plants).

Other installations, usually those associated with generating power, incorporate extensive development at one site and are perceived as visually intrusive primarily because of the large amount of visual field that they occupy. An example of these are wind farms.

Most of the installations associated with transmission and distribution, are in areas of settlement and are intriguing in their compositional and symbolic expression. With a perceptual shift, there may be opportunities for their architectural celebration.

In the last component, consumption, there is an indirect reflection of the actual power system, with the cultural manifestation of form arising out of our capability to use power for a variety of ends in making the world around us.


Generation

The generation phase is where an energy source of some kind is transformed into electrical current. The electrical energy is normally produced by burning fossil fuels such as coal, gas or oil (non renewable sources) to produce steam; processes of nuclear reaction; mechanical use of water and wind (renewable sources); and, less commonly, by solar and geothermal energy.

The types of built structures required to generate the energy and where they are located with respect to the users, differ according to the primary energy source employed. In much of Canada electricity is produced in hydroelectric generating stations, mostly built on rivers in the North, in areas populated primarily by the country's aboriginal peoples.

The use of water to produce energy goes back at least to Greek and Roman times and the employment of vertical and horizontal water wheels. In Medieval Europe water wheels powered sawmills, fulling mills, ore crushing, bellows and irrigation. At the beginning of the Industrial age, early steam engines were used to pump enough head water for water wheels. By the 19th century in North America there were approximately 10,000 water wheels in New York State alone, generating mechanical energy for production mills of various types. This kind of energy supply dictated the placement of industry because the power had to be used at or very close to the location that it was generated

The hydroelectric system of today is in principle, a relatively clean power generation source using the force of falling water to turn turbines which produce electric current. However, the massive concrete dam structures required for this system are visually intrusive in their wilderness settings and have a considerable physical and social impact on the environments in which they are located.

The construction itself is a major intervention requiring access for bringing in materials and large equipment and temporary residence for the hundreds of people who build the project. The activity also results in the biological disturbance of land at and around the site. The large areas behind the dams which are flooded produce a number of problems such as the destruction of animal populations and the disappearance of habitat; the release of naturally occurring mercury associated with flooded organic material; changes in water chemistry; the disturbance of fish habitat and fish populations; and the significant uprooting of human populations and the loss of the landscape that supported them. In northern Manitoba, Canada, the dam structures are on the Nelson River. But the larger landscape and its people have been carved up by virtue of the fact that several other rivers have been diverted, channels excavated, and lake levels regulated to supply a greater volume of water into the Nelson. The large user populations in the south rarely, if ever, see the huge hydro dam constructions and are typically not aware either of their visual impact or of the myriad of issues and problems associated with hydroelectric development in the north. It is therefore very much a case of `out of sight - out of mind'.

Where wind power has been used as the energy for electricity generation, primarily in populated southwestern areas of the United States, there is a much different perception of the visual impact of the generating structures on the landscape. Wind, like water, has a long history of being used to generate energy. Like water it is a renewable resource, and in itself a clean mechanical means of generating electrical power. The images of falling water and blowing wind embrace a kind of purity and a nostalgia for simpler and more innocent ways of providing for our needs and comforts. Unfortunately, the application of wind technology on the scale required to meet the needs of modern society means placing not one solitary and poetic windmill on a landscape, but usually thousands of wind turbines, with the resulting effect being anything but benign.

Like hydro dam structures, wind farms are significant expressions of technological systems on otherwise `natural' landscapes. Unlike the isolated hydro dams, the wind farms have been installed in populated areas and are seen by large numbers of people; and the acceptance of their visual impact has been a topic of much controversy (Gipe, 1990, Winteringham, 1992). Intrusive as the visual image of a wind farm may be to some, it has been argued that its environmentally friendly nature does, to some extent, mitigate its crimes.

Nuclear generating stations, on the other hand, are decidedly ominous and threatening structures. The distinctive image of the massive cone is instantly recognizable and associated with the widespread uncertainty and discomfort with this technology. While only a very few perceive the nuclear image as a fount of almost limitless energy, most fear its potentially devastating consequences and prefer not to be living in its shadow.


Transmission

Once an electric current is generated, it must be carried to where it will be used. The distance of transmission depends on how far the generation source is from the market. With mechanical agents such as water and wind, there is little choice but to locate the generating stations where the energy sources are.

The hydroelectric stations on the Nelson River are over 900 km. (550 miles) north of the city of Winnipeg where the majority of consumption occurs.

Electrical energy can be transmitted as high voltage, direct current, over long distances in a reasonably efficient manner with respect to power loss. The most striking visual implication of this is the steady, rhythmic march of transmission towers through their corridors of power.

Like Christo's Running Fence, the lines of towers become an artifact that is overlayed on a variety of changing physical and cultural landscapes. Unlike Christo's composition, the transmission lines have not achieved the status of `art' and we have gone to great lengths to camouflage and screen them so that they are not visible from highway corridors.

In cities the towers pick their way through the urban fabric, struggling to remain unobstructive and unobtrusive while maintaining the requirements and functional integrity of the corridor.

As artifacts, the individual towers are fascinating constructions of tall, slender open structures which express obedient service in their seemingly disproportionate task of delicately carrying the endless thin strands of wire. The variety of forms are all techno-humanoid in their compositions, and can be connected to a cultural narrative.

Distribution

Once the electrical current has been transmitted to its general destination, a distribution system delivers the power to the consumers. The beginning of the distribution process involves transforming the high voltage to usable levels.

This takes place in terminal stations and substations which are situated throughout urban and rural areas. One of the interesting aspects of the electrical distribution infrastructure is that its network reaches into every nook and corner of the built environment and it is extremely difficult to hide completely.

Although final stage services have been put underground in urban core areas and in many new subdivisions, the visual presence of the substation is unavoidable. A 1980 map of substation locations in the city of Winnipeg (population, 600,000) shows over 120 sites.

These are among the most intriguing elements of the power system; strange and mysterious structures whose ornamentation comprises striking sculptural artifacts of the technological process. When Richard Haag saw the refinery structure at what was to become Gasworks Park in Seattle, he made the point that this structure was as compelling in its composition, texture and symbolic expression as any number of very expensive commissioned works of art to be found installed in the urban landscapes of North America.

This could also apply to the aesthetic of the electric substation whose apologetic presence is barely tolerated by a society which would prefer not to be confronted with the landscapes generated by its technologies. We rely completely on the benefits of electric power, but we are unwilling to acknowledge its evidence on the landscape (Thayer's "landscape guilt").

The substations are presumably designed solely to accommodate the functional needs of technological processes. Any obvious aesthetic consideration is usually only evident in the architectural devices sometimes used for the visual screening of these structures.

Nevertheless, our struggle with the forces of myth, faith and technology emerges in the imagery and expression of substation `architecture'. With spires of steel reaching upwards and adorned with the artifacts of the liturgy of power, these can be elegant and moving structures, reminiscent of sacred cathedral architecture. Is this an accident? Has Technology become the new supernatural and is our faith focused on technology as the road to salvation? Technology is certainly positioned within the context of our existence in a powerful and ambiguous manner.

In light of their unavoidable and ubiquitous presence, and their obvious if unconscious expression of the changing and perhaps confused nature of the state of our beliefs and values, we might give some consideration to the substation as an opportunity for the exploration of the dialectic of art and technology. The fact that North American society has difficulty in making these kinds of connections is symptomatic of the lack of a culture of design. Functional objects tend to be designed for utility and efficiency, generally with little or no consideration in their conception of myth and meaning.

Consumption

While the physical presence of the electrical power infrastructure is just tolerated, the results of power consumption on the physical landscape have been embraced as a part of the `architectural' language of our culture.

The high rise building, an image which signifies the core of every North American urban centre, can now be constructed to great heights due to developments in structural systems and materials. However, this would not be a viable building form without the elevator.

Underground parking structures, which remove large numbers of cars from the surface of the city, would not be possible without sophisticated air handling machinery.

The commercial `strip', which has claimed its niche in almost every city and town in North America, owes its expression to the availability of electric power enabling large surface areas of lit signage.

Artificial light has dramatically changed the feeling of the city's nighttime and daytime environments through provisions for the lighting of spaces and buildings. The variety of light standards and fixtures which cover a range of functional to decorative uses have become commonplace artifacts along urban streets.

In many areas the walled residential enclave has become a visually dominant form. The widespread distribution of this pattern is made possible due to the presence of communication devices and automatic gate openers.

The transmission corridors through urban areas have yielded secondary landscapes of urban agriculture, notwithstanding the controversial issue concerning the possible dangers resulting from the electromagnetic radiation within these zones. In Winnipeg, for example, the corridor spaces in residential areas are filled with vegetable gardens which are tended and harvested by local residents.

Conclusions

The electrical power system permeates late 20th century culture and its visual presence on the landscape is both widespread and conspicuous. Society's struggle with an acceptance of this presence may well be a general reflection of our love-hate relationship with technology. However, in a self-consciously operating society the individual's sphere of influence with respect to the design of their environments and artifacts is quite limited.

The design of our infrastructure systems has been largely assigned to professions who are trained to apply criteria of function, utility and efficiency in a problem solving domain. Because these are necessary but not sufficient criteria in the process of design, the public is subjected to `solutions of utility' which may address function but which fail to recognize the powerful and inevitable relationships between these systems and the physical/cultural landscapes in which they operate; they are impoverished in spirit and imagination. With respect to the design of infrastructure, clearly a starting point is the reductive preconception that the evidence of these systems has no place within the visual realm and are disconnected with the cognitive environment. The result is a rapidly growing separation between human systems, technological systems, and environmental systems.

We are certainly quite willing to assimilate a range of technological expression that has been conceived largely within what is perceived to be the domain of design as opposed to that of problem solving. While it is not the CD player that we are listening to, but the music reproduced by the machine, the player itself has become objectified and celebrated as a technological artifact. In this example, as with all of our appliances, electronic devices, automobiles, etc. it is the facade of technology that we have embraced, rather than the technology itself.

However, if we consider a perceptual shift in which the culture embraces the opportunities within all of its inventions, a true union of people, environment and technology becomes an exciting possibility.