Infatuated

Aside from the old asylum building that dominated the campus, a cluster of buildings built in the 1920s were of equal interest, seemingly abandoned in the 1980s.

What was originally an admissions building became home to mostly geriatric patients during its lifetime; here, four angled wings joined underneath a castle-like tower. It could have been mistaken for a building at college campus when it was in use, but the dark shattered windows behind rusting mesh gave the structure a very sinister aura in its later years. Piles of rusted equipment cluttered the permanently dark first floor, while the un-boarded upper floors reflected cascades of bright peeling colors in the sunlight. Seclusion rooms still retained their bed frames, bolted to the floor.

Underneath the edifice, a dark service tunnel gave way to a lit stairwell that led to a central kitchen, then continued into the blackness and under the medical building. Ancient wooden wheelchairs and rusted oxygen tents lined the walls down here, permanently wet from leaking steam pipes that hissed in distant passages. Upstairs, vintage medical cabinets and metal wheelchairs crowded the halls, and a few rooms contained piles of respiratory and resuscitation equipment. Stainless steel gurneys, lined up and ready for their next journey, began to lose their shine under years of dust. The top floors contained what seemed like empty rooms upon first glance at the doorway, however some hidden corners revealed rooms and items such as a dental office, operating theater, examination tables, and a barber's chair.

Each time I visited this complex of buildings, I found something new each time in some dark corner I had previously missed. I began to visit this place quite frequently, sometimes without shooting anything, just enjoying the incredible atmosphere it permeated. I'm glad I was able to make those visits when I could, as this amazing group of buildings was demolished in 2008.