"Right plant, right place."
This four word mantra was drilled into me during my tree management course last winter. My arboriculture professor loved to suddenly stop what she was doing—whether it was halfway through a lecture slide or out in the field demonstrating how to prune a tree—and jolt my classmates and I out of our post-lunch stupor with a question or hypothetical situation. The answer would almost always require the class to chant in unison: "Right plant, right place."
As such, this notion always springs to mind whenever I see trees planted under power lines. I enjoy pointing out to my friends (yes, I can be That Girl sometimes) the strange shapes the trees have been pruned into in order to accommodate the power lines. If my friends are nice enough to humor me, they usually note in surprise they never even noticed that large portions of the trees were missing.
My fascination with this seemingly ordinary collection of photos is probably best described by the photographer himself with this blurb from his bio:
"His photographs are about a way of looking at the world, to reveal magic in the mundane. He hopes his photographs are read not just seen. He is never bored."
Trinh's series is a mesmerizing portrayal of the intersection of the built and natural environment. While "right plant, right place" would ideally lead to trees fulfilling their natural, majestic shape, I have to admit that this unforeseen form certainly has a certain charm of its own.