Asylum
503 creative works found
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I would like to thank Richard Shepherd for letting me us his image.( Closed Chapel ) check out his art photography its awesome work. http://www.redbubble.com/people/shepy Closed Chapel
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This image was taken at an abandonded state hospital for the developmentally disabled.I came across this staircase and as I climbed it I was struck by how worn the stone treads were.Worn down a full inch in places.How many steps would that take?How many feet?How many times?This place was a home to many-probably all some knew as home.I felt honored to be able to photograph it.
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Again the old General Hospital… / / It was built in 1897 and was home to Newfoundlands first operating room. The hospital has been closed and condemed for many many years now. Rumor has it that many dark and hideous things were done behind its doors, things that are better left forgotten… Only memories are left now that can haunt its dark and terrifying hallways. / / Cinderellas wicked step sisters would be in their glory having her scrub these floors. /
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A ward full of beds in an abandoned mental asylum.
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Or entry.Years ago this place was locked up to keep people in.Now it’s locked up to keep people out.Go figure.Knightsbridge Psychiatric.
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............slipping through the shadows of a vine covered window.Shining light on a forgotten dormitory room at the Cottingley Institution for the Developmentally Disabled…....Gordon Hall, Room16
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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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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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Was priviledged to work with the beautiful Bronwen Hyde during the Aradale weekend and thank her greatly for her time, acceptence of my crazy ideas and her near perfect contortionist act to get into the metal duct! :D / This and another 2 images will be on display at the BSG Picture This exhibition that begins this Friday. / Much thanks also goes to Karen who mastered the art of throwing props in an instant! :) / / The weekend was a huge success and I thouroughly enjoyed spending time with like-minded souls. / Massive thanks to the following for your muse, inspiration and collaboration… / Kara Rasmanis / Jenny Hall / John Robb / Matt Allan from Disenchanted / Melissa Kirkham / Jo O’Brien / James Price / Michael Alesich / Lucky Vegetable / khelltic / Bronwen Hyde / Karen / / / / / / / / / Australiana / Born of This Earth – Series / Hearts At War / Vehicular works / Architecture / B&W Photography / Transitional Industrial Utopian Series / Abstract / Beautiful Humans / / . / You can also listen to PLV’s music / / /
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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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Taken at the Cottingley Institute for the Devlopmentally Disabled
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“Insanity is the only sane reaction to an insane society.” / (Thomas Szas)
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A very ornate tiled and mosaic corridor in an abandoned mental asylum
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It gets lonely here now.We talked a lot years ago-when there were people here.Gave us meaning I suppose.We talked even after the place was closed down,after all the kids left.Some of them were cruel-they kicked at us.Not much light in his corner anymore-the windows are choked out by the trees outside.He doesn’t say much now as we sit here.People do come to see us sometimes-people with cameras or kids with booze and paint cans.They leave.They all leave. Photo taken at the Cottingley Institute for the Developmentally Disabled-or what’s left of it….............
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This is the main corridor you would have walked into had you come in the main entrance when this asylum was open. The boards in white on the back wall give directions to the various parts of the hospital and the plaque in the middle pays homage to the staff of this asylum who gave their lives in the world wars. Again the water on the floor provides some lovely reflections and symmetry here.
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I couldn’t resist trying it out of it’s original square. #1 is the closest to the original photo
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Here you can see that this corridor has been quite badly damaged by fire, as well as some of the doors being pulled of their hinges. I think given another two or three years and this section of the asylum will not be standing, at least not for the most part.
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Even just looking back with the camera setup on the Altar you could see how fantastic this chapel would have looked, imagine it in its heyday with the pews still present and cloth still hanging in places around the walls etc, it would have been fantastic.
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All amongst us who have had the chance to liase, work or just chat with John Robb are always left with the impression that you have met a unique, warm and generous human being. / More so, a master of his craft, check out his own portfolio. / Thank you John for your patience and willingness to get this shot right! / / The Aradale weekend was a huge success and I thouroughly enjoyed spending time with like-minded souls. / Massive thanks to the following for your muse, inspiration and collaboration… / Kara Rasmanis / Jenny Hall / John Robb / Matt Allan from Disenchanted / Melissa Kirkham / Jo O’Brien / James Price / Michael Alesich / Lucky Vegetable / khelltic / Bronwen Hyde / Karen / / / / / / / Australiana / Born of This Earth – Series / Hearts At War / Vehicular works / Architecture / B&W Photography / Transitional Industrial Utopian Series / Abstract / Beautiful Humans / / . / You can also listen to PLV’s music / / /
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I walked a mile with Pleasure. / She chattered all the way, / But left me none the wiser / For all she had to say. I walked a mile with Sorrow, / And ne’er a word said she; / But oh, the things I learned from her / When Sorrow walked with me. Robert Browning Hamilton, “Along the Road” / —-—-—-—-—-—-- / photo taken at teton state hospital / all rights reserved. / more of my work is available at www.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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