A series of interconnected offices that look like they hadn’t been painted in 40 years.
A clicky-flippy clock is having some kind of malfunction.
This ward was the last occupied place in the hospital. It was used as a chemical dependency (drug and alcohol) inpatient program. It seems that they were allowed to paint the walls before they abandoned it… I go back and forth, thinking it is a shame and thinking it is a little cool.
There were bins with hundreds of spools in them in the basement.
In this ghost town where there were brick, wooden, and dirt-brick buildings, the latter fared the best by far.
Even without the kettles the Hamm’s brewhouse is beautifully lit, ornamented architecturally and begging for photographers to remember it.
A me-sized hole in the half-demolished skyway looks about a story down to the ground. Step lightly. Arista 100.
A typical shower in the old section of the hospital. It looks a little horrifying in the harsh light of a camera flash on the thousands of little white tiles. One soap holder hadn’t been stolen yet.
An auxiliary crane in the corner of the foundry room.