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Garden Buds, Flowers & Bees (Lens Test)
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This is a shot of some weeds in my neighbor's overgrown backyard. Just the other day he cleaned it up. I wonder why? :)
I finally made it to the place I had been dreaming about for years. Ever since I found out the substation by the Harlem River was still standing, I had been trying to visit. Every time I came up from Brooklyn, though, the main gate was locked. It had become a routine—checking in once a year, hoping for a change, only to be disappointed. But today was different. Funny enough, I almost didn’t go out at all. I had been putting up with the noise of kids playing next door, and their summer fun was starting to grate on me. I’d had enough of it. I needed to get out of the house, and this time I was determined to see if the gate would finally be open. When I arrived, I started by photographing the building’s exterior. The gate looked like it might still be an issue, but I wanted to document what I could. While I was snapping shots, a guy pulled up on a motorbike. We got to talking about photography and our shared passion for preserving old, forgotten buildings. He told me he’d seen local...
When I arrived at the former Aerosol Techniques factory, I was filled with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. Meeting a group of new friends for a day of urban exploration in Connecticut, we had a lineup of intriguing abandoned sites on our agenda. Our itinerary included the hauntingly beautiful Seaside Sanatorium, a former hospital, along with a few other potential spots that we were less certain about. We chose the factory as our starting point, mainly because it offered easy access and was conveniently situated next to a Lowe's hardware store. Walking along a well-trodden path, our group made a seamless transition onto the property. The sense of camaraderie was palpable as we embarked on our adventure with eager enthusiasm. The factory grounds, long deserted, were a canvas for countless graffiti artists. Every inch of the building was adorned with vibrant and eclectic street art, each piece telling its own story. This rich color and creativity set the perfect stage for our imp...
As I recall that April day in 2018, the memory unfolds with the vividness of a carefully preserved photograph. The sky, a vast expanse of unyielding blue, served as the perfect backdrop for our excursion. J and I, driven by curiosity and a keen sense of adventure, stood at the threshold of the historic Ballouville Mill in Killingly, Connecticut. This relic of a bygone industrial era was nestled imposingly between two homes as if guarding the secrets of its storied past. Our entry into the mill was less an act of intrusion and more a gentle push through time's veil. An opening – not quite a door, nor a window – beckoned us into the heart of a forgotten world. Inside, the mill presented itself as a cathedral of industry, now silent and solemn. Wooden beams and columns, like the ribs of a great leviathan, stretched upwards, supporting the weight of history and time. The machinery, once the pulsing heart of this place, had long since ceased their hum of productivity. In their absence...
Four photos. That’s all I managed to take of the abandoned Orange Memorial Hospital in Orange, New Jersey. I had explored countless forgotten places before, but this one was different. It wasn’t just the eerie emptiness or the decay—it was something heavier, something unsettling. Stepping through an open window, I was immediately hit by the overpowering stench of human waste. Inside, the destruction was almost surreal. Time, vandals, squatters, and thrill-seeking teenagers had left the place in ruins. Papers were strewn across the floors, ductwork hung from the ceilings, and walls bore the scars of years of neglect. But it wasn’t just the sights or smells that got to me. It was the feeling. A thick, unshakable presence weighed on me, like I was being watched. I had explored countless abandoned buildings alone, yet I had never felt this way before. Something about this place wasn’t right. Despite my unease, I pressed on, making my way toward the...
I was driving towards what used to be the Consumers Park Brewery when something caught my eye—the wooden gate doors of the old auto parts store were wide open. Someone had broken in. The building had been vacant for years, even as new construction surged all around it. Right next door, a fresh, modern structure had risen, but this place remained untouched—a relic of the past hollowed out and forgotten. I pulled over without hesitation. These moments don’t come often. A while back, another shuttered dealership had been left open for months, its entrance exposed. Graffiti artists had made their mark on the metal gates, turning the abandoned space into an urban canvas. I had thought about exploring it, but before I could, the gates were suddenly chained shut overnight. The opportunity was gone. Not this time. This time, I wasn’t letting the moment slip away. I stepped inside, finally getting a look at what had been hidden behind those rolled-down gates and green plywood barriers. An...
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