
The start of the academic year is always very busy and so September slipped by pylonless. October’s Pylon of the Month will hopefully make up for that. It was drawn by a colleague whilst out walking near Northmoor, just to the west of Oxford. Here it is in the wild:

My trusty friend, the Open Infrastructure Map, tells me that this is a pylon on the National grid, Cowley – Seven Springs 400 kV line. The middle cross arm being longer than the ones above and below also, I think, identifies it as an L6 pylon rather than an L2, although to be sure I’d need to know whether or not the cables are bundled in fours (quads). If you too want to play the “is it an L2 or an L6 pylon” game when next out in the countryside then you need to bookmark this Telcontar webpage.
Moving on from the nerdery of pylon spotting, I’ll briefly revisit a topic I’ve written about before – pylons in 20th centrury art & literature. The first depiction of a pylon in the UK is usually considered to be by Tristram Hillier in 1933, only five years after the construction of the national grid began. The ones in the image below are more along the lines of transmission poles than pylons, but until I find the time to discover the first “real” pylon in a work of art this will have to do.

“Pylons was exhibited at the first and only exhibition of the modernist ‘Unit One’ group in London in 1934, where it aroused much interest……….in this painting the three tall pylons carry no wires and their location on the beach is deliberately enigmatic. The attention to detail and relocation of objects from their usual surroundings draw parallels with the work of Dalí and Tanguy. However, unlike those artists, Hillier does not use unlikely objects and improbable landscapes.
In a nice temporal link, 1933 was also the year in which Stanley Snaith, the forgotten pylon poet, wrote his lovely poem:
Pylons
Over the tree’d upland evenly striding,
One after one they lift their serious shapes
That ring with light. The statement of their steel
Contradicts Nature’s softer architecture.
Earth will not accept them as it accepts
A wall, a plough, a church so coloured of earth
It might be some experiment of the soil’s.
Yet are they outposts of the trekking future.
Into the thatch-hung consciousness of hamlets
They blaze new thoughts, new habits. Traditions
Are being trod down like flowers dropped by children.
Already that farm-boy striding and throwing seed
In the shoulder-hinged half-circle Millet knew,
Looks grey with antiquity as his dead forbears,
A half familiar figure out of the Georgics,
Unheeded by these new-world, rational towers.
The fifth line then inspired a 2023 short film made by Suzy Mangion and Katie Mason in which my voice made a very brief apperanace.
That’s all for this month. See you in November!








