A massive steel sheer’s equally massive drive cog. Imagine the force.
The old hotel doesn’t like to show its age. Indeed, if it had a few paint job and soft remodel it would be fit to open–that is, if there was a need for it in this tiny rural New York town.
As photographed from a cement piling for Slip #3 poured in 1935, disconnected from land by erosion. How do I know the date? A pair of steamship engineers carved their initials and ranks into the wet cement!
Fluorescent lights peel back from the walls like caterpillars, rearing up and away from the glare of the sunflower-fans.
The interior of one of the curved corridors that connect two wards. Note the original floor’s hand-laid tile pattern. Portra 160.
This mean-looking thing had a purpose, probably, but that function has been lost to decades of expansion.
Shadows of the trees from the materials yard.
The rust garden’s brick centerpiece contrasts the muted winter Kentucky palette.
A long exposure in the crane cab at sunset throws a bit of color into the bleak yellow glows between the windows and car shaker.