Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
The turbine hall, without turbines. I guess that makes this a hall… at least it has a clock.
Old conveyor belts are draped over the sides of the ore chutes to cut down on the noise and wear of the dumping trains.
Broken dishes and rotten burlap, mixed with the general trash left behind after the roof collapsed on the poor house.
Gaskets still organized on nails beside the power plant. This used to be a maintenance room, but since its roof and walls were torn down, it’s not any kind of room.
On the desk of an optometrist’s office.
A carefully kept journal of the ballast levels in the final years that the Ford sailed Lake Superior.
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.