The women’s ward had a player piano in it, likely a donation.
Part of a vintage neon sign. I hope it’s been preserved–it reminds me of the sign that hung over my grandfather’s tv sales and repair shop in small town Minnesota.
One of the only remaining pieces of equipment in the distilling room is this green control panel on a bridge suspended in the middle of it all.
When a big motor rusted free of its ceiling mount, it smashed onto this workbench.
The zebras had the right idea when they saw the pink beds–run.
In the nitrating house.
Some small candles light one of the few surviving tunnels that once linked buildings on the campus with the steam plant. In winter, it was common for patients to be transported through these to avoid the cold, and during the Cold War these served as nuclear fallout shelters.
In the grungy control room, I found a little slice that was never graffitied.
Looking through the washer that is the first stop for the dredgings.