This abandoned woolen mill on the banks of the Pawtucket River in Rhode Island still holds the original textile machinery among its half-burned and collapsed timbers. The mill has been part of the landscape since before the Declaration of Independence and was one of the last Northeastern textile mills to close when it finally shut its doors in the late 1950s.
Harlem Valley Skywalk
Skywalk between hospital wings at the Harlem Valley State Hospital.
Anaconda Brass and Copper
Waterbury, CT. This newer portion of the abandoned Anaconda Brass factory had its own share of water infiltration and scrapper damage. The reflective water infiltration accentuated the repetition of the forms and lines in otherwise utilitarian steel trusses and corrugated roofing.
Bethlehem Steel Corporate Offices
The abandoned HQ of Bethlehem Steel in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
1940s Southern Pacific Passenger Car
The Niles Canyon Railway colelction includes this historic 1940s era Southern Pacific Passenger train with plush red sites and WPA moderne/Art Deco features.
Ambassador Apartments - Gary, Indiana
The lobby of the long-abandoned (since 1985) Ambassador Apartments. These luxury units, completed in 1928, housed the elite of U.S. Steel's management. By the 1970s, it had become low-income housing. By 1985, its last resident left the building.
Penn McKee Diner Swivels
Harlem Valley Morgue
Harlem Valley State Hospital, which eventually became known as Harlem Valley Psychiatric Center, was established in 1924. It closed in the mid-90s. This is the morgue in the old hospital building at the Northeast side of the campus.
Abandoned Macon School
The abandoned western wing staircase leading to the second floor of the A.L. Miller School in Macon, Georgia. The school was originally constructed in 1931 at a cost of 200,000. Once an all-girls high school, in its later years, it became a middle school. Like many schools in the South, A.L. Miller was segregated. The school closed some time in the mid-2000s.
Smile, For Life is Good
The abandoned workshops at Creative Engineering in Orlando, Florida teem with the artistic and technological ambitions of the post-industrial generation. Aaron Fechter, who remains as steward of his studios, continues to offer tours of his workshops. The masks are frozen in the early 90s. Animatronics in various states of decay (some unboxed) are stored in the facility. Aaron, a genius inventor and mad scientist to some, still has ambitions for clean, limitless, renewable energy. In any case, his hydrilium hamburgers are the best on the East (or West!) side of the Mississippi. Rock Afire Explosion may be dead as a business, but the dream lives on.
Glass Bank Penthouse
The Glass Bank Building in Cocoa Beach, Florida was once home to First Federal Savings and Loan and was built in 1961 in an eclectic midcentury modern / international style. Frank Wolfe, one of the building's owners in its later years committed suicide at the building in February of 2014, presumably after the power to his penthouse on the top floor (pictured here) was cut off.
The valentines at the Hamilton Hotel, which eventually became a social services agency in Holyoke known as the Silvio Conte Training Center, which was named after a well-liked former congressman who - as Republican - battled for the poor.
A.L. Miller School
The abandoned science wing in the lower level of the A.L. Miller School in Macon, Georgia. The school was originally constructed in 1931 at a cost of 200,000. Once an all-girls high school, in its later years, it became a middle school. Like many schools in the South, A.L. Miller was segregated. The school closed some time in the mid-2000s.
Why do I feel the title of this photo is an oxymoron? How can graffiti be historic? Historic graffiti - to me - tells a story. It communicates the culture of the disenfranchised and carries to future generations the importance of social justice. Oddly, I think a lot of graffiti today represents that mandate. Here, in Holyoke, the plight of early-20th century industrial workers is on full display. 1917, 1923, 1924. These are years which seem so distant from our own. But their scrawlings communicate the same message as a tagger possibly would today. I have always been against graffiti. But when I see these cries from industrial workers in Holyoke, Massachusetts, it becomes clear to me that graffiti goes beyond hedonism.
Today, this mill is gone. Its graffiti became ashes as a outcome of arson. These names are gone as concrete reality, but their existence as photos speaks to their truth and reality. Graffiti - I still think - can be tempered. But without it, we would never know how to foster the most creative and industrious individuals.