“_____ BROS”
history under ground
contrasty
Birch shadows on stone walls… have you been looking at my Christmas list?
An arrangement of brick graffiti on the old boiler house building near the railroad tracks.
Ava between ammo warehouses and railroads.
The white mark allowed for a manual RPM check on this big steel flywheel on the ground floor. Note how dark the bottom level of the mills is—that’s because all of the equipment is blocking out the light.
Near the base of the mesa is a modern house, which seems to be a ranch of some sort. What a fantastic spot to live, but for the fact every rainstorm floods the arryos, muddy ditches at the bottom of gullies, making it impossible to travel.
It was a strange choice, although I appreciate it, for the firm reusing the shops to brick up the doorways while leaving the doors.
The Atlas D command building. As Brutalist as it gets.
Considering the side of Boiler #3’s firebox, where it meets the boiler (between the cylinders). The top piece is where the exhaust is sucked into the chimney, one chimney for each pair of boilers.
Taken from atop a grain train at the end of Cargill B-2, looking toward Lake Superior “I”, now part of the sample complex. This area used to have another slip, but Cargill filled it on when it built the elevator on the right.
The license plate reads “Farm Truck”.
The bottom area of the smokestacks house storage spaces. The windows of these rooms that were never completed line up perfect.
Inside the circa-1906 Gustavson House of Animas Forks. I love the texture of the walls in all of the buildings inside of the old miner’s houses.
A look down the 1950s foundry building, moments after sunset.
A divot to let more light and air into the building.
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
On the ground floor of the main factory there seems to be only one chair left.
Unintentional art comes in the form of a beet juice slurry baffle.
A wide view of the steam pump room, complete with pistons (taken apart for their brass), flywheels (covered in graffiti and rust) and pressure gauges (smashed apart for fun). I guess what I’m trying to say is, I was not disappointed.
Broken skyways in the sand casting house, where everything was utterly fire-resistant.
The workshop and parts room was full of light and meticulously sorted bolts, nuts, washers, gaskets, and all sorts of specialty hardware.
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.
Rows of offices under the power plant, which was in the middle of being demolished during my adventure. Despite the snow, this was meant as an interior.
Shadows of the timberwork and cribbing are cast across cracked lake ice. My footprints follow cat tracks.