Sometimes a location’s reputation precedes it. This is a perfect example.
I had zero intention of visiting this place. But, I ended up here. And maybe it was good for me that I did.
We were exploring around the boroughs and their outskirts, coming up on roadblock after roadblock. Every place we tried to shoot was a bust. It was becoming ridiculous. All the other locations in the area we had already been to, and we really wanted to see something new. So losing light and desperate to save the trip, we threw up our hands and made the short drive here instead.
This county prison closed in 1970 and was designed by the same architect behind the beautiful Eastern State Penitentiary. Obviously…this place is not beautiful. Not anymore, anyways.
Today this small jail is in literal ruins, its exterior disintegrating into piles of brick and concrete. As bad as the outside looks, the inside is a thousand times worse. Stairs and catwalks are rusted through, two-story window frames have fallen out of the walls and collapsed against the cell blocks, there is so much garbage on the ground you cannot see the floor. And this is also the saddest place I have ever been.
People live here. The cells are makeshift bedrooms, the rails of the rusted catwalks are used as clotheslines.
Nobody goes here unaware of this situation, and this place is well-explored. The residents know we come and go. Everyone does their best to be respectful, and as part of that, explorer etiquette (and basic human decency) dictates we don’t take pictures of anyone’s personal space.
March wasn’t a great month for me. I’ve been struggling with a few personal things, some (not all) of which are admittedly self-inflicted. I don’t believe in putting down anyone’s issues, no matter how benign they seem. Everyone’s struggles are valid, my own included. But being here was a sharp wake up call.
I don’t live in a bombed-out shell of a former county prison, sleeping in garbage or breathing in air that tastes like dirt. But others do. They have to. It’s their only option. How can I ever complain?
Urban exploration makes activists out of many of us. Some, like me, become enthusiastic historic preservationists. Some become environmentalists, blowing the whistle on illegal abatement that pollutes our air and water. Some become voices for the people society likes to forget about — the people who are part of these ecosystems, these buildings we also think of as eyesores and inconveniences to the community.
I left here reminded to be a little more compassionate. Old buildings aren’t the only things that need preservation. And I remembered that I need to be appreciative of how fortunate I am.
I hope these photos encourage the same thoughts in you. Cheers, friends.
Great images and wonderful text…I could not agree more with you and it’s funny how certain places affect you more than others.
Thank you. I always struggle to try and explain to people who don’t see these places firsthand just how much some of them do become part of you, or change the way you look at things.
You did well with this one Amanda.
I so thoroughly enjoy your writing and your photos! My heart skips a beat when I see you have a new post. Well done!
Thank you Mama S.! 😀
I have not had time to comment on each new post, but let me say overall the last few months = epic as always. In this post, the image of the school desk/chair in the middle of the rubble is my favorite. It really hits me in the stomach, in a good way. <3
Thanks, love. <3 I've been too busy to get out the past couple weeks, but soon there should be a lot more photo adventures where these came from. I felt the same way about the chair. It was a heavy place.