Something in our collective memory attaches itself to these graceful
armatures, as though the form of the windmill is some essential
archetype for those structures we devise to yoke our lives to
the forces of nature.
by Akiko Busch
Vermont has always offered its own brand of austere beauty. Spare,
clapboard farmhouses, board-and-batten barns, the precise geometric
patterning of slate rooftops, all are part of our collective memory
of the place. If there is any predominant aesthetic, it is one
preoccupied with preserving and reinventing this homespun beauty.
In such a landscape of tradition, it's a surprise to find what
is surely one of the more stunning examples of Modern design to
be built in recent times.
The 11 wind turbines constructed on an unnamed mountain in Searsburg
are surely that. Coming across them by chance, as I did one morning
last fall, I read their profile as an industrial sculpture park,
their beauty nothing short of astonishing. With the rotors of
the turbines spinning at varying speeds against a crisp blue sky,
their perpetual animation seemed to observe their own celestial
rhythms. But the sculptures' purpose soon became apparent; even
from far away, it was clear that this graceful congruence of colossal
instruments had gathered to gauge some condition of the elements.
They are, in fact, windmills constructed of steel and fiberglass;
and their location makes all the sense in the world. Vermont's
harsh climate and relentless winds had, for years, encouraged
Green Mountain Power (GMP) to investigate using the wind as an
alternative source of energy. Since the Seventies, the power company
had been prospecting for a site that might be feasible, both environmentally
and economically, for wind resource studies. With a $3.5 million
grant from the U.S. Department of Energy and the Electric Power
Research Institute in Palo Alto, California, GMP identified Searsburg,
a small town in southern Vermont, as that place: while strong
winter winds sweep the 2,900-foot ridge, its elevation is nevertheless
low enough that the area is not ecologically sensitive.
After environmental studies had concluded that there were no critical
black bear habitats in the area or any nesting or migrating birds
that would be threatened by the project, GMP contracted Zond Energy
System in Tehachapi, California, to construct, install, and help
maintain the turbines in Searsburg. In operation since June 1997,
the Searsburg Wind Power Facility is now the largest commercial
wind generating plant in the eastern United States. And while
providing clean, emission-free energy, the facility also serves
as a study site for the power industry, environmental groups,
and planners.
The faceted steel towers--24-sided, 132 feet high, and each weighing
64,000 pounds--have been designed to withstand wind gusts of up
to 150 miles per hour. The immense fiberglass blades of the rotors--each
60 feet long and weighing 4,250 pounds--have been sheathed in a
black Teflon-like surface that sheds ice easily. Too, they've
been painted black to absorb solar energy and help melt the ice.
A computer in the base of each tower controls the turbine, allowing
it to respond to the ever-changing air movements; when the wind
exceeds 65 miles per hour, the rotor blades have been programmed
to "feather" or align themselves with the air currents to prevent
them from being damaged.
It's all here: the industrial elegance, the economy of form, the
integrity of industrial materials. These attributes are matched
by the innovative development of a technically proficient alternative
energy resource. And so the wind turbines satisfy the conditions
of Modern design. As significant--both to the ideals of Modernism
and to Searsburg--is that community response has been largely favorable.
People like them.
Peter Bourgois, a landscape architect at Cavendish Partnership,
which advised GMP on the visual impact of the project, observes:
"In a natural landscape of rolling hills and serpentine roads,
the random arrangement of the towers, both horizontally and vertically,
blends well with the existing landscape. In the Midwest, where
the land is flat, gridded with rows and fences, a more regular
grid of towers might be more appropriate. But here, the random
element enhanced them." Bourgois also notes that because wind
power provides clean electricity, it generally elicits a positive
response; it's a nonthreatening technology that people innately
understand. "But beyond the technology, the visual image has its
own appeal," he adds. "They're just neat to look at. People think
about Don Quixote; they get romantic about [windmills]."
To say the least. For all their up-to-the-minute technology and
for all their suggestions of some mammoth earthworks installation
or industrial performance art, there is something ancient about
the structures as well. It's not only the ridge of the mountain
that they straddle so gracefully and efficiently, but they also
cross the line between the ancient and the modern. Something in
our collective memory attaches itself to these graceful armatures,
as though the form of the windmill is some essential archetype
for those structures we devise to yoke our lives to the forces
of nature. If there is a gentle familiarity to the forms, the
sound they produce is gentle as well. The morning I saw them,
their blades made a soft, rhythmic sound, as though harnessing
all that wind calmed them as well.
Nineteen-ninety-seven was a good year for architecture. Frank
Gehry's new Guggenheim Museum, with its soaring titanium-clad
forms, brought worldwide attention to Bilbao, Spain, as Richard
Meier's new Getty Center with its radiant galleries and plazas
energized Los Angeles. The Searsburg wind turbines are modern
landmarks of a different sort; and they may be every bit as significant,
simply because they serve such a workaday function. Indeed, that
industrial forms can speak so powerfully to the imagination may
be Modernism at its best. The machine in the garden is an image
powerful, poetic, and central to modernity--but this metaphor is
rarely expressed with so much eloquence. Here, on this New England
mountaintop, the image is simultaneously heroic and ordinary,
with inevitable utopian associations.
The 550-kilowatt wind turbines are expected to provide electrical
energy to some 2,000 homes in the valley. But for all the power
they generate, there is something else they do every bit as well.
They take our breath away.
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