Our platform is the most extensive digital repository of the Northeast's historic, at-risk, and overlooked structures, infrastructure, New York City streets, and other locations.
Garden Buds, Flowers & Bees (Lens Test)
Get link
Facebook
X
Pinterest
Email
Other Apps
This is a shot of some weeds in my neighbor's overgrown backyard. Just the other day he cleaned it up. I wonder why? :)
Hot Rod! This former state hospital is a bounty of quality graffiti art. The motorcycle frame above tends to move around with only one wheel. One cold evening, me and a friend I shall name S headed to this fine state hospital seeking the famed room of pigeon shit. Having parked within the grounds. We headed straight for S's contact entrance located behind one of the large buildings sitting on the perimeter of the fence. We headed around the whole building from left to right unable to find the entrance. We were extremely lucky not to be harassed or kicked out by the active security patrol on the grounds. Finding no exterior entrance inside the hospital building we headed to the front to check. To our surprise, what looked like a locked door was actually an open door hidden in plain sight. We placed a wooden stick in the doorway and headed inside. Barred views! News is dead amirite. First, we explored the dark ground floor filled with old furniture, chairs, a...
Courtesy of NYC Department of Taxation and Finance/ 1940s.nyc There’s a rule of thumb for city explorers: when a discovery seems too easy, it probably is. I was prowling the block, the sun beating down on the pavement, when I saw it. An entrance, tucked away beneath the shadowy tangle of sidewalk scaffolding, a side door was wide open. It was an invitation wrapped in a warning. The air was thick enough to swim through, that specific, suffocating brand of a New York City summer heatwave. I needed a moment, a prop. I ducked into the corner bodega, the bell on the door announcing my brief escape into the chilled air. Minutes later, I was back on the street with a cold can of AriZona Mucho Mango Juice Cocktail, its condensation a welcome relief against my palm. Standing nonchalantly on the sidewalk across the street, I took a long sip and began my watch. I wasn't just waiting for the right time; I was studying the rhythm of the street, waiting for a gap in the steady flow of people. ...
Crisscrossing the tracks of the abandoned Long Island Railroad Penny Bridge Station, I found myself drawn to a towering relic of industrial might—a colossal metal structure that once belonged to Certified Concrete Industries of Queens. This behemoth, still standing tall over the rail line, piqued my curiosity and beckoned me closer. As I snapped photos, I scanned the perimeter for potential entry points, eager to explore the secrets of this imposing edifice. Unfortunately, I had no luck finding any entries in the well-maintained fence. The site is currently utilized for parking and storing concrete pumping trucks, though concrete mixing is no longer conducted on-site. Despite its diminished role, surprisingly, few have documented this site from within; most photographs are taken from the Newtown Creek waterway, offering a distant view of the rusting tower. It was a rare sight, even more so now that the tower has been demolished, a fact that escaped my notice until recently. The cu...
This place holds a special meaning for me. I’ve visited several times, determined to explore every corner and uncover its secrets. But no matter how hard I tried, I never quite managed to see it all. The main front building, the one closest to the road? Never got inside. The massive cooling building in the back with its giant fans and smaller outbuildings? Missed that, too. And then there was the tank farm—a cluster of 22 rusty tanks tucked away in the upper right corner of the property. For some reason, no one ever took pictures of those tanks, even though they sat quietly in the shadows. I only noticed them recently, flipping through my old research notes. That’s when it hit me: I’d never taken the path that led there, too hesitant to get close to the Trenton-Mercer Airport’s fence line. I wasn’t here to get in trouble. I was here for the peaceful, empty buildings, not to risk getting caught wandering near airport grounds. Still, being there felt like stepping back in time. Walking t...
If you judged Hydeville Mill by its exterior today, you would not call it a historic producer of fine doeskins or cassimere. You would call it a graveyard for heavy machinery. When my exploring partner J and I arrived, the parking lot looked less like a monument to industry and more like a waiting room for rusty backhoes, paratransit vans, and tractors in various stages of decay. We did not linger outside. We slipped inside, expecting empty floors or rotting looms. Instead, we found a vintage red Chevy jacked inexplicably high toward the ceiling. It is a strange phenomenon I have noticed in my travels. Whether I am in New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, or Delaware, abandoned mills seem to come with a peculiar side dish. They almost always hide a vintage automobile tucked away in some forgotten corner. It happens so frequently that it has become a running theme in my work, as if these industrial giants simply swallow cars whole. We documented what we could see, but we missed the most fa...
Comments
Post a Comment