Architecture ruin
488 creative works found
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A window of an traditional country farm cottage in Ireland. Nice whitewashed wall on this shot..
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This photo was taken at Bagan, Burma (Myanmar) at sunset. The light was filtered through the dust. The color in this photograph has not been enhanced or changed. It was just a magical event.
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This image was taken @ Port Willunga at the remains of the old jetty. On a recent journey back to Port Willunga recently, I’d noticed that many of these posts had been burnt. A fun stunt at the time I suppose :( Best viewed on a black background. Images from Australia / Architecture / Images from Japan / Sunsets / Water Scenes
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Long Beach Island, NJ / www.danadipasquale.com This shack has been near my childhood home since I can remember. It falls a little more every year, and recently was supposed to be torn down. But, the residents of the area rallied to get it declared a landmark because it was such a part of the way we recognized home. So I love this little guy. © Dana DiPasquale 2008. All photographs and artworks in this portfolio are copyrighted and owned by the artist, Dana DiPasquale. Any reproduction, modification, publication, transmission, transfer, or exploitation of any of the content, for personal or commercial use, whether in whole or in part, without written permission from the artist is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.
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“That which the dream shows is the shadow of such wisdom as exists in man, even if during his waking state he may know nothing about it…. We do not know it because we are fooling away our time with outward and perishing things, and are asleep in regard to that which is real within ourself.” / ~Paracelsus / —-—-—-—-—— / photo taken at tedford power plant / more photos online at www.abandonedamerica.org
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A brief candle; both ends burning / An endless mile; a bus wheel turning / A friend to share the lonesome times / A handshake and a sip of wine / So say it loud and let it ring / We are all a part of everything / The future, present and the past / Fly on proud bird / You’re free at last. - written by Charlie Daniels, en route to the funeral for his friend, Ronnie Van Zant of the band, Lynyrd Skynyrd. / —-—-—-—-—-—-—-- / all rights reserved. photo taken at teton state hospital. / more of my work is available at www.abandonedamerica.org
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easily one of the grandest and most ornate asylums ever built, / algonquin river state hospital was a cause of great local controversy during construction / due to running far over budget. the extravagance is evident in the beautiful masonry, / the ornamental woodwork, the stained glass windows with their decorative yet functional iron grating. / olmsted, the man who designed central park, laid out the grounds and the span of the wings / is half a mile, if you walked end to end. / to do so now is impossible. / in an ironic twist, the much-contested (and extremely expensive) yellow pine floors / fared far less impressively over time than those made of other, cheaper materials. / the epic scale of the structural collapse, combined with a devastating fire last summer, / make algonquin river state hospital quite possibly the most deadly building in existence. / floors like the one shown here / give way into gaping abysses, punji pits full of sharp, splintered boards / fanning out from the basement like jagged teeth in the ever-hungry mouth of death itself. / to take this photo i had to make it from the crumbling doorway on the left / onto the sagging mess in the extreme foreground. the floor shifted beneath my feet / and my added weight sent dust and debris cascading ominously into oblivion below. / it was quite possibly the most frightening moment of my life, second only to the one / where i had to get back into the doorway with no real solid ground to support me as i inched closer. / i may not be terribly afraid of death. i may even frequently wish for it. / i am, however, afraid of being paralyzed, of falling onto a rotted shard of floorboard and / laying impaled and broken for hours, with no real help available. i am not too proud / to admit that i wanted nothing more than to stay in the relative safety of the door frame, / or that i am glad that i will never again have to make the nerve-wracking leap of faith / back to the only exit. / that being said, i would do it again if i had to. there is no better example than algonquin / that all things fall apart, and i feel a certain kinship with it. we are both collapsing inside, / and it is an odd thing to see before your very eyes what you imagine / your own heart looks like. / very odd indeed. / —-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-- photo taken at algonquin river state hospital. all rights reserved. / more of my work is available on abandonedamerica.org
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something was wrong with him. every time he looked in the / mirror he became more certain of it. every passing day / widened a chasm, a certain kind of emptiness within him. it / was something he could see in his eyes, a hollowness where / some fundamental building block of humanity was supposed to / be but was not. he could still talk and smile, and seemed to / function well around people, but he knew it must be because / they hadn’t sensed yet that he had a labyrinth of knowledge in / which he had somehow become lost. in his dreams he was / always wandering in the forlorn husks of things that had once / been magnificent but now only echoed his seething discontent / at his own imperfection. the way that he had entered was / sealed and these places in which he had once sought refuge / from the capriciousness of the world were now his prison. each / corridor he tried to exit by only led to more empty rooms, / more places where people had once been but no longer were. / even when he was externally surrounded by others the world / had become a wasteland; the very dimensions had shifted so / that all welcoming things before him were shadows and smoke. / the vaulted ceilings of his most precious hopes were slowly / crumbling and the machinery that drove his will to continue / had ground to a halt. though it was hard to define the outline of it, there was a / certain kind of emptiness about his features. he wondered why / no one else noticed. / —-—-—-——- / picture taken at portside power plant. all rights reserved. / more of my work is available at abandonedamerica.org
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there is something eerie about staring down through / the remains of rooms where the flooring has collapsed. / it goes beyond the mortal fear of falling and death, / beyond the realization that there but for the grace of god go i. / maybe there is some inate sense that this is not something that is or should be possible. / it is like staring through holes torn in the fabric of different dimensions / and it throws off your balance and perspective, leaving everything askew. / splintered shards of boards jut off at illogical angles, / heavy radiators dangle from pipes like rusted fruit on steel vines, / and doorways swing outward into cavernous voids. / people once walked, talked, worked, and slept / along these planes now almost entirely inaccessable to man. / distant portals open to rooms and wards whose secrets will remain hidden / until they are erased by decay, by fire, by the wrecking ball. / there is always this pervasive sense that these are the areas where the answers lie, / that if one only pushes a little harder, takes a few more risks / this search for who knows what will produce some tangible results / and this consuming drive well somehow be rewarded with / reprieve, release, redemption. / this is the nature of my obsession. when you look at me, / you should see not what lies before you / my physical shell, a fragmented collection of skin and bones and blood. / you should see the conspicuous absence of what i was, what i could be, / of my very spirit, which has divorced itself from my corporeal form. / i once walked and talked, worked and slept along planes / now almost entirely inaccessable to man. / even now as we speak i am drifting somewhere, restless / stuck in limbo, in the space between floors. / -—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-— more available at my (recently updated) site, www.abandonedamerica.org / photo taken at algonquin state hospital / all rights reserved. may not be reproduced without permission.
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photo taken in the communicable disease hospital at isle de las gaviotas / perhaps one of the most difficult locations to access that there is :) / more of my work is on my website, www.abandonedamerica.org
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if one cares at all for the truth, it is important / to periodically step back and look at what defines / the world around us, and by extension, ourselves. / in algonquin river state hospital’s case, it is defined by / its grand ambitions and idealistic foundation / and now, by the collapse of these noble ambitions. / it is a place haunted by the scores of tragedies that litter its past, / by its inability to integrate into the world around it, / and its inevitable decline into obsolescence and disrepair - / much like me. / if i were to be honest, i don’t want to see it demolished, / but i don’t want to see it restored either. / it is what it is because of these things, / and its status as some behemoth / enshrouded in its own obscurity and decay makes it / larger than life, legendary even. / to tear it down to make some development or store / seems so pedestrian, insultingly dull, in much the same way as / trying to undo all of the damage wrought upon it, / cleaning it and sterilizing it and packaging it for the masses / ultimately belittles what it truly is. you may look at it / and wince at the sheer scale of the calamity it has become, / but no matter what you think it has finally revealed its true nature, / and has become something far more intricate and ornate / than our ordinary world, / with its gray cubicles and prefabricated sentiments, allows. / to see algonquin river state hospital, you have to actively seek it, / much like you are making a pilgrimage to some hallowed site / that is a shrine to all that fails, all hopes that are smashed by time. / to change it, to ‘save’ it, ultimately destroys it anyway. / and so too, i suppose there is something necessary about / my own longing to leave this world. if i were not consumed by my / relentless desire for my own destruction, why would i seek such things? / sometimes it is the very things that eat us apart, / that ultimately kill us, even, that are our own defining characteristics. / i have no delusions about my own greatness, or lack thereof, but nevertheless / if edgar allen poe wouldn’t have followed a trajectory that left him / dead in some back street’s gutter, if van gogh hadn’t followed a path / of loneliness so severe that it drove him mad - / would we ever know of their works? would they even have accomplished any? / i postulate that dissatisfaction is the mother of creation. / without it we have no incentive to create or to change, as / contentment is suspicious of change, lest it throw off comfortable equilibrium. / and so i suppose my own defining characteristics are a necessary evil. / were i to be happy, were i not to suffer, / this work that i do that defines me, that is paradoxically one of my only joys / would likely cease to be as well. / i don’t want to be a walmart, a business park, a playground. / when i am gone, let it be left to those few who care / to wonder at what drove me to do what i do, and / what frightening and magnificent things i saw in places like this. / i have chosen this path and where it will lead me, all in the hope that / it will entertain, edify, and maybe even enlighten / those of you gracious enough to join me and peer into my life through / the small window of my camera’s lens. / this is my downward spiral in all its splendor, friends. / enjoy. / -—-—-—-—-—-——- / photo taken at algonquin river state hospital. / more of my work is online at www.abandonedamerica.org
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Treasury-Petra (Jordan).
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By far the most famous fictional ghost ship is The Flying Dutchman. The ship has become synonymous with the phenomenon so that “Flying Dutchman” is often used as a generic term for any apparition-type ghost ship. The term may also refer to a real ship that was reported to be seen – often as an apparition – after sinking, or to a ship found floating with no crewmembers on board. According to folklore, the Flying Dutchman is a ghost ship that can never go home, but must sail “the seven seas” forever. The Flying Dutchman is usually spotted from afar, sometimes glowing with ghostly light. If she is hailed by another ship, her crew will often try to send messages to land, to people long since dead. / Versions of the story are numerous. According to some, the story is originally Dutch, while others claim it is based on the English play The Flying Dutchman (1826) by Edward Fitzball and the novel The Phantom Ship (1837) by Frederick Marryat, later adapted into the Dutch story Het Vliegend Schip (The Flying Ship) by the Dutch clergyman A.H.C. Römer. Other versions include the opera by Richard Wagner (1841) and The Flying Dutchman on Tappan Sea by Washington Irving (1855).
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The image has been created as an alternative to the popular and greatly exaggerated theory of global warming and its consequences. Since global warming activists predict a dramatic change of the planet’s surface in the nearest future, the Ice Age Premonition portrays our society in the new Ice Age. / Ice Age – A cold period marked by episodes of extensive glaciations alternating with episodes of relative warmth. Any geologic period during which thick ice sheets cover vast areas of land. Such periods of large-scale glaciations may last several million years and drastically reshape surface features of entire continents. A number of major ice ages have occurred throughout the Earth’s history; the most recent periods were during the Pleistocene Epoch. There have been at least four major ice ages in the Earth’s past. The last glacial period ended about ten thousand years ago. / Surrealism art prints / Digital art prints / Fantasy digital art wallpapers
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Death is a delightful hiding place for weary men. ~Herodotus more of my work is viewable on www.abandonedamerica.org
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we were all so addicted to spectacle: / the drama of the media and celebrity lives, our / huge cineplexes and large-screen tvs, the / cacophony of arena concerts and the overblown importance / we gave our own silly little struggles. / we were like the romans with their bread and circuses / we were in the colosseum enjoying our pageants and staged conflicts / while all the signs around us were pointing one way: / to our own ruin. / there came a point, however, when we could no longer ignore / the fact that we were addicted to poisoning everything that was vital to us. / food stopped growing in the tainted soil, the air itself became toxic, waters rose and cities fell / you would have thought with our taste for the electrifying harmony of discord / that we would have revelled in it, but it was all so different / when the show finally began. / there was no audience to witness it for we were all playing a part. / we were the ones on the stage, and the / epic tragedies being played out / were now our own lives. / -—-—-—-—-—-—-— / photo taken in juanita de brogas magnet middle school / more of my work is on www.abandonedamerica.org
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photo taken at haley boarding house / more of my work is on my website, www.abandonedamerica.org
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photo taken at rosevale institution if you get a chance, my new book is available, please take a look at: / www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/494773 you can read about it there, but it has a lot of high quality prints of my work. and as always, please visit my site abandonedamerica.org if you’d like to see more of my work. thanks and i hope you have a great holiday.
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it’s easy to only focus on the sadness inherent in an old derelict building like teton. / when you know the misery in the history of a asylum, and you see / only the ruins of what it once was, you sometimes become blinded / by the macabre and morose, by thwarted hopes and unchecked corruption. / if this is all you see – in an abandoned building, in your own life, in the world around you / it’s easy to feel that perhaps it would be best to erase it all, to hide everything away / so deep that it can’t encroach upon your fleeting comforts and contentment. / but, in this place where such terrible, tragic things occurred / there is something else that resides there – sometimes in the brilliant green ivy / that works its way into cracks and crevasses the way lovers’ fingers entwine, / sometimes in the softness of the wind, or the stillness of untouched afternoon sunlight – or / the way gravity welcomes the falling rafters back to the earth and time / absolves its past in the oblivion of unmolested sleep. teton had such beauty – in / the sincerely charitable ambitions that built it, in the graceful forms of its architect’s true design, / in the naive hope of the many who genuinely believed it could bring a cure for the ill, / and in those confined who stole friendships and dignity from the greedy hands of / disgrace and neglect. if you can’t see these things, you’ll never understand why i do what i do. / photographs capture slivers of time. they preserve a point of view, a moment / that would otherwise be forever lost. if you seek truth through them, / maybe you can illuminate the soul of a thing, and maybe show someone else / the proud glory and splendor of the forgotten and forsaken. / the triumphs and frailties of human endeavor may now be heard only in echoes, / but i guarantee you if you are quiet and you listen / you will hear not screams of agony and anguish, but the sweet serenity of final release. / if you approach the past with humility and reverence in your heart you’ll realize that / immortality is not something anyone can ever capture – but if you are very lucky, / through a photograph perhaps you may capture a glimpse, / a fleeting moment of something that, in its own abstract and inexplicable way, / proves beyond a doubt that nothing ever dies. / —-—-—-—-—-—-- photo taken at teton state hospital / more of my work is on www.abandonedamerica.org / please check out my new book, filled with photos and text – the link is on my site’s main page!
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Featured in Greece and all things Hellenic September 6, 2009. / Featured in The Mysterious Balkans August 6, 2009. / Top Ten in the “Greece – Ancient and Modern!!” challenge in 1. The Mysterious Balkans August 5, 2009. / Winner of the “Columns” challenge in Mood & Ambience challenge July 27, 2009. / Featured in If It Doesn’t Belong July 14, 2009. / Top Ten in “Best Beautiful Buildings of the Bubble” challenge in If It Doesn’t Belong July 14, 2009. / Second Place in the “Historic and Modern Day Ruins; World Heritage Sites” In First Things group June 24, 2009. / Placed Third in the “Temples, Chapels, Ruins, Pylons and other Historic buildings” challenge in First Things group June 10, 2009. / Top Ten in the “Babylon” challenge in First Things group May 13, 2009. / Second Place in the “Famous National Landmarks” challenge in Mood & Ambience May 17, 2009. / Featured in You’re Accepted May 11, 2009. / Top Ten in the “History 101” challenge in the First Things Group May 11, 2009. / Featured in Unique Buildings of the World May 2, 2009. Best Viewed Large Temple of Poseidon at Cape Sounion .. about an hour’s drive from Athens, Greece. “The temple of Poseidon was constructed in approx. 440 B.C. It is perched above the sea at a height of almost 60 m. The design of the temple is a typical hexastyle i.e. it had a front portico with 6 columns. / As with all Greek temples, the Poseidon building was rectangular, with a colonnade on all four sides. The total number of original columns was 42: 18 columns still stand today. The columns are of the Doric Order. They were made of locally-quarried white marble. They were 6.10 m (20 ft) high, with a diameter of 1 m (3.1 ft) at the base and 79cm (31 inches) at the top. / At the centre of the temple colonnade would have been the hall of worship (naos), a windowless rectangular room. It would have contained, at one end facing the entrance, the cult image, a colossal, ceiling – height (6m) bronze statue of Poseidon. Probably gold-leafed, it may have resembled a contemporary representation of the god, appropriately found in a shipwreck, shown in the figure above. Poseidon was usually portrayed carrying a trident, the weapon he supposedly used to stir up storms.” ... the above abridged from Wikipedia. I took this image with my little Olympus C5000 zoom in August of 2005. A bit of Photoshop work has taken place … cloning out tourists, adding a new sky and a texture layer among others. Also available without “effects” ... please contact me for more information /
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... a corridor in an abandoned hospital. I always loved this image, and the place it was taken at. Sadly no more.
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taken at gallilee steel’s NY offices.
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A man tends to his camels in Petra, Jordan.
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I have a passion for decaying architecture. I love the aging process which creates a beauty all of its own. The paradox of a derelict cinema called the Futurist in the centre of a busy city where new buildings are springing up all around. Why do we let the most wonderful buildings fall into ruin whilst spending fortunes to build new structures? I hope you appreciate this. First published May 2008, Photography Monthly
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