The chapel (left) and surgical suite (straight on) move in an out of view as fog rolls up from the St. Louis River valley.
A simple porcelain fountain in the original brewhouse. The water fountain, no doubt, is not original.
Before Portland-Huron Cement’s Duluth Plant was (mostly) demolished and (partly) turned into a hotel, the top of its silos gave a cinematic view of elevator row.
A single cloud makes its way to Buffington Harbor and Lake Michigan from the quiet backroads of the plant.
A gate large enough to accommodate a missile, next to the ruins of the guard shack. Wyoming is the intersection of lonely and beautiful.
I don’t think we’re anywhere near maximum pressure anymore.
The belts on these mills have long ben missing.
The individual ovens are skinny to allow even and fast heating of the whole interior. Numbers are cut into signs because no paint could withstand the heat or corrosive emissions from the coking process.
The incinerator’s hardened steel door… useless, but still sexy in a heavy-industrial kind of way.