The top of the headframe, and in a sense, the mine itself. This pulley carried the life line of the mine and the men in it.
Watching the comings and goings of doctors, nurses and new patients was a mainstay of asylum routine; one can find it easy to imagine pale faces pressed against the block glass windows, staring out at the world moving past them.
The last batch of molded metal stuck in the chute, this metallurgical furnace was falling apart brick by disintegrating brick b the time I got to it. On the upper floors there is a sophisticated network of vents and chimneys to make these little furnaces as hot as possible.
The great entrance to the Service Building shows the detail once present in the old hospital.
There isn’t an unbroken window in the entire historic complex as of 2013.
The ice reflects the blue sky on the rust. The sunset blasts through the concrete pillars holding it all up.
Judging by the bed, this room was used by employees in its later years.
The spectacular, if precarious, view of downtown Minneapolis from the roof of ADM Annex 4. Note the great messages left by various graffiti artists who made it to the spot.
A dead work truck rusts near an outbuilding. Everything is marked with a code. Modernity.