A self portrait on a tire swing outside the Service Building.
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SFAAP’s iconic smokestacks. You’d notice if you drove past this on the highway.
A cottage for masons infected with TB to live together.
Inside this small iron clad mine is a couch and some clothes. It seems that for a short while, someone was living inside of it…
Ben.
Looking at the last wall of the hotel from the banks of the river.
From the bottom of the skyway I looked back, my eyes tracing the vines from the marsh up the smokestacks to the perfect Midwestern sky.
2005. Looking across the Mississippi from a park the night after the first snow.
“Against the blue sky, its rusting central silos look like rising smoke meeting the last minutes of a sunset. These give way to a corrugated night sky of blue gray, punched-through with staggered four-pane windows, all glassless.”
While the maps name this the compressor house, I believe, based on its size and number of heavy machine mounts, that it also housed the pumps to drain the mine.