A creek has cut through the middle of the mine property, washing away the loose rock and eroding the foundations of the Concentrator. It’s pretty, though! It’s be belief, though I cannot prove it, that some of the water here originates from inside the now-buried Santiago Tunnel, which is no doubt flooded to a great extent.
Bells are highly symbolic, being used from everything from calling worshipers in the morning to exorcising demons at night.
Peering into a remote office at Manitoba Wheat Pool #3. Someone left their to-do list behind.
“Richard Glumac ’45”. Brick Graffiti Series.
Unintentional art comes in the form of a beet juice slurry baffle.
You can tell from the marks on the wall that there used to be pipes running the length of this square hallway, which connected a loading dock with explosive mixers.
Looking into the mouth of the hopper which mine carts dumped into at the top of the Concentrator.
The first 800 or so feet of the tunnel is finished with reinforced concrete. The test is raw stone. This is the spot where it switches. Side note: nailing this shot on film is one of my proudest light-painted moments.
The most pointless, beautiful and nuclear-bomb-proof catwalk I’ve been on to date. It goes between two high levels in its own bottom-lit concrete capsule in the center of the tallest, thickest building. Hang on, we’re riding this one out.