A color study of the rotting donated clothes in the former GB&S Machine Shop.
The end of the dock disappears in the fog.
A warped mirror in the rock crusher at the rear of the complex.
The former express concourse, as seen in 2005.
The copula where molten metal would pour is on the left. It seems the whole floor was covered in ash in front of it.
This old ward, not a victim of remodeling, still has metal screens over the open windows of the doors. It should be obvious why glass were not used.
In the ward for the criminally insane, this door was the most-worn. Nail scratches mark the area around the peep hole, the wood is gouged everywhere from thrown chairs and hard kicks, and a ominous blood-colored stain is visible where it dripped in the second inset from the bottom. Aside from the damage, the coloring in this section was very vibrant, though it was probably little reprieve for those who had to work here.
The basements of the barracks were often stone and brick, and many of them were connected by short tunnels.
Imagine the voice of an entitled White suburban mother. She’s now talking about oral hygiene in the “urban” (Black) schools.
Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.
The man behind the curtain watches, but doesn’t say anything. Probably the smartest one in the room.
The second floor was hit by arson years ago, but it still carries the telltale features of its original design, specifically the woodwork below the roof.
A cloud moves across the attic in front of the window. How? A photographer’s secret.
Strange graffiti in a side room. Someone was having fun…
Pozo Mine, the most menacing mine building I’ve ever seen. Black and white film, shot with the Fuji GX680, a beast of a camera.