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Micro-Landscapes of the Anthropocene

Nazca Lines

The ancient Nazca lines, which require topographic, viewing to see completely, demonstrate the power of bird perspective, or a ‘birds-eye-view’, a notion that also links to the notion of geologic time and extinctions. “The Nazca Lines are a series of large ancient geoglyphs in the Nazca Desert, in southern Peru. The largest figures are up to 370 m (1,200 ft) long. They were designated as a UNESCOWorld Heritage Site in 1994. Scholars believe the Nazca Lines were created by the Nazca culture between 500 BCE and 500 CE.” (Wikipedia) Hundreds are simple lines and geometric shapes; more than 70 are zoomorphic designs of animals, such as birds, fish, llamas, jaguars, and monkeys, or human figures. Other designs include trees and flowers. (Wikipedia) The designs are shallow lines made in the ground by removing naturally occurring reddish pebbles and uncovering the whitish/grayish ground beneath. Scholars differ in interpreting the purpose of the designs, but in general, they ascribe religious significance to them. (Wikipedia) The Nazca lines also resonate with ideas of geological time and man made structures that highlight the experience of geological time through unreal, sublime perspectives, such as the Hoover dam with its celestial star map or Terrel's crater which provides audiences with a direct viewing of geologic and celestial time. Because of its isolation and the dry, windless, stable climate of the plateau, the lines have mostly been preserved naturally. This notion of isolation and preservation relates to the idea of the subterranean; for example the growth of crystals in caves with extreme heat conditions that prevent human exploration.

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The birds always perceive the changes in the atmosphere before we do…
The birds always perceive the changes in the atmosphere before we do…

How huge the tree, how tiny the weed, both under this soft stable membrane of the earth. The remains of the sunset’s orange light flash back with the grasses’ fresh smell, and voices of little invisible creatures – a choir of birds, lots of them, singing the dawn away, fading into the night sky.

The misty, foggy air permeates and infuses into every inch of the leaves, the playground, the clothes, the tree barks, the acne on the skin, the sparrows hidden and silent in the nests.

Early morning and it was the first day in weeks that there were so many promising clouds, and so tenuous was the birds’ morning call – pressure, moisture, proximity: every molecule in the air shouts, rain, rain.

I wonder what the bird makes of the sky above – how the change in atmospheric pressure might feel against their fragile collection of hollow bone and feather. Does the immense pressure of gravity seem a heavier burden to the humble native miner than it does to us?

Does the royal spoonbill too share the joy of warming his legs in the sun, cold from wading through the sharp waters of the lagoon? His plume splays, forming a gentle crest on the back of his head. Washed in the listless afternoon sun, one could be forgiven for reading pride in his stance.

The eastern osprey makes her home at a height that dwarfs the surrounding trees, and her nest reminds us that if we stretch we can touch the upper reaches of our atmosphere. Reminds us that even though we can touch the sky momentarily, it is not ours. Though we made this tower, she has made it her own. Just as we adapt to nature, nature adapts to us.

[Writing and photography by Gemma and Merah]