Looking toward the Female Infirmary Ward from the long, glass, Conservatory hallway.
The secret sweet-yet-salty center of the nameless factoryscape. Home base, tuned to rule the AC and turn out Product X at record rates, I’m sure.
Because painted signs would not hold up in this spot–in between four ovens that were literally hot enough to melt steel inside. Solution: Cut the pipe labels into the sheet metal. Seems to have worked.
The old men’s ward is an example of what the hospital resembled before part of the complex was modernized. Small rooms, light switches outside the door, small observation windows set into heavy wood. If you ask me, though, the tile work across the floors is the most spectacular.
Hunter’s custom large format rig looks pretty cool, doesn’t it?
On the Turbine Room floor, one old steam pump still remains, ready to pressurize steam pipes with the hot stuff throughout the car shops and boilers.
Looking through a secure ward door at the destroyed rooms beyond.
Books in nooks and not getting a look… about the crook with hooks that cooks.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.