A clicky-flippy clock is having some kind of malfunction.
A little sun and a little moisture sprouted this grass in the middle of the steel silos, in the midst of Minneapolis’ “graffiti graveyard”. Two images of time: nature growing through industry and rust dissolving old art in the elements.
Carvings on the back of a barracks building.
In the mine offices, hooks and a board with numbers was the system to keep track of who was in the mine and who was safe.
The top floor of the nitrating house was full of switches and breakers for the operation below, each bearing a label and number. Nowadays everything is printed, but when INAAP was built, all these signs were painted by hand.
An original stencil-brushed sign.
Every timber pillar was numbered for maintenance purposes.
Pipes to channel nitrose (think nitro glycerine) infused acid through the building.
The building on the right was where parts not assembled onto vehicles would be set in crates for shipment.