Looking out from what little remains of the second floor at the poor house, which was in terrible condition. No roof and no floors. Soon to be ruins.
The Sun Rooms, or Common Rooms, reminded me of the Panopitcon turned inside-out.
Like many mill-style buildings of the time, the Twohy’s loading doors (in this case, the delivery wagon doors) opened to an elevator shaft. This design cut down on loading time, as long as the elevator was operational. Of course, if it was otherwise occupied, there could be no traffic through the exterior doors!
The small door leads to the offices, the large door leads to the shop. My back at this time is to the corrugated steel wall. At the time I wondered why there was just one steel wall, not knowing that 40 years before there was another spot for an engine here. This section of the roundhouse has become a sort of town dump–car seats, cans of paint and tires are piled into its corners.
In front of the mine building the ground has opened up, showing a one-subterranean hallway. Locals seem to be using the dangerous hole as a trash dump.
At noon, the lower skylights around the shops glow yellow-green, thanks to the flora blooming on the roof above.
When block glass shatters, it looks like ice.
Entrance to the plant. Hermes holds his iconic caduceus and a Model T. Demeter holds a tractor in a motif of wheat. A fantastic reimagining of the Greek, with an excerpt of the following quote by Sir Joshua Reynolds (18th century English painter): “Excellence is never granted to man but as the reward of labor. It argues no small strength of mind to persevere in habits of industry without the pleasure of perceiving those advances, which, like the hand of a clock, whilst they make hourly approaches to their point, yet proceed so slowly as to escape observation.”
The depot of Ringling is a very lonely looking building and there are many holes in its roof. There are no signs on it whatsoever.