Looking from the main shop into the boiler shop, one of three attached buildings that specialized in certain repairs. One thing that architectural photographers have to work with is an elongated “magic hour” with ideal shadowing and coloring–this photo is a result of that lighting.
These stairs connected some small main-level offices with one of the main sewing rooms above. Because the roof on this building was strong, it was pretty well preserved–look at those colors. Through the open fire door on the left, though, you can see that the roof has given out.
Vines are finding their way into the roundhouse.
A self portrait, from the early 2000s.
It’s almost hard to tell whether the colors come from oil in the water or the colorful glass lit up by the Michigan sunset.
While it looks like ground level, everything here is one story above the actual earth.
The tangled telegraph lines between Mitchell and the engine house keep the old pole from topping in the wind.
One thing I like about the oppressive globalist-wrought future is the idea of numerically subdividing spaces; my geek side sort of wants to live in a flat that can be sorted by as Dewey Decimal-like code.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.