Unintentional art comes in the form of a beet juice slurry baffle.
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Looking across at the Cargill elevator.
The chief engineer had many phones. It’s my guess one connects to the pilot house and the other connects to the emergency steerage station that’s mid-deck.
“_____ BROS”
Looking into the mouth of the hopper which mine carts dumped into at the top of the Concentrator.
Indianapolis’ beautiful downtown is in the distance, past the gas storage tank.
The hike to the village is steep. This is looking into the valley from the halfway point.
The main buildings were mostly interconnected and in good condition. The dry air helps to preserve the wooden structures.
We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.
An article from Minnpost describes this design as “marital”, and I could not agree more.