Digital Ink'd

In Rockland County, the site of the former Temco Uniforms facility tells a story of industrial ambition and environmental oversight. This 2.6-acre area, framed by Samsondale Avenue and shadowed by an active rail line, has transitioned from a bustling manufacturing hub to a focal point of environmental concern. Originally developed in 1958, this single-story, 32,000-square-foot building was the birthplace of Modern Filters, Inc., a company dedicated to producing vacuum bags, tape, and labels. The industrial prowess of the era was palpable, as these products were essential to a booming post-war economy. By 1985, the building took on a new life with Temco Uniform Company Inc., which transformed the space into a sophisticated facility for manufacturing, washing, and dry cleaning uniforms. For 17 years, the company was a cornerstone of the local economy, embedding itself in the fabric of the community until its operations ceased in May 2002. However, the legacy of these operations has been ...

  You’ve got to move when the chance is right. That’s something I keep telling myself—but just as often, I forget it. Or ignore it. And then I end up learning the same lesson all over again. It happened on a quiet afternoon when I pulled up to the old Horsman Doll factory. The place has long been abandoned, but it still holds stories—ones I try to capture through my lens. The main gate was slightly ajar. Not wide open, but just enough for me to slip through with my gear. It was one of those rare opportunities. But across the street, half-hidden behind a rundown house, a group of men sat drinking and shouting over each other. The kind of scene you don't want to get caught up in—especially alone, carrying expensive camera equipment. I hesitated. I debated. I bailed. My gut told me to walk away, so I did. I figured I could find another way in. I circled the block, hoping for a back entrance or even a broken window low enough to climb through. I found one window that looked possible—bu...

If you find yourself driving down Meadow Road in Rocky Hill, Connecticut, there’s not much left to catch your eye. The area, once a bustling hub of industry, has quieted down to little more than a stretch of road with a few remnants of its past. But one sight still stands out: three towering concrete silos, the last visible relics of what was once the Connecticut Foundry. It is rumored the silos were used to store cement during the construction of the I-91 when it was built in the early 1960s. These silos, weathered but steadfast, are all that remain of a 10-acre property that was once home to a sprawling industrial site. The Connecticut Foundry, which officially closed its doors in 1983, was demolished nearly 30 years later, its decline documented in pieces. Based on old photographs and archived Google Street View images, the foundry was gradually taken apart over the course of 2012. By the summer of that year, only a few structures lingered before the land was cleared entirely, leavi...

For weeks, I had been orbiting the perimeter of the impending demolition of the Church of St. Michael and St. Edward, a once revered church in the heart of Fort Greene, like a moth drawn to a flame. The neighborhood, a patchwork of tight project housing, seemed indifferent to the fate of this historic edifice. The intel I had received suggested that entry was as simple as scaling a wooden fence, yet the timing had never felt right. Until one day, it did. With a mission in New Jersey looming, I knew it was now or never. The demolition was advancing at a startling pace, the church's twin steeples already reduced to rubble. The skeletal remains of timber beams and rusted steel frames peeked out from the ruins, a testament to the relentless march of progress. Summoning a surge of courage, I seized a moment of quiet in the bustling housing project and vaulted over the fence. My heart pounded in my chest as I slipped unnoticed into the church grounds. The once grand entrance now stood as...

  For nearly a century, the city was known as the “Brass Capital of the World,” with a thriving industrial and manufacturing sector. But when the American brass industry declined in the 1970s, the city was hit hard by a series of economic challenges. Factories closed, jobs disappeared, and in their wake, large areas of land were left contaminated and abandoned. These brownfield sites, once bustling hubs of production, became symbols of the city’s struggle to adapt to a changing economy. By 2019, the city had made significant progress in cleaning up these sites, having remediated over 178 acres of land. Still, 140 acres of brownfields remained, with efforts underway to return them to productive use, offering hope for a new chapter of growth and development. One notable site is the former Bristol Babcock Facility, which operated from 1889 to 1989. The 6.6-acre property, with four buildings dating from 1895 to 1954, straddles the border between Waterbury and Naugatuck. The Bristol Bab...