For your Sunday morning viewing pleasure, another group of pics from one of my urban explorations into Places One is Not Supposed To Go. This one’s from one me and my gal went to in the fall of last year, in New York City. Go below the jump for more…
These photos are from a rather sprawling hospital complex in NYC, one that’s been around a rather long time. There are two abandoned areas of interest, the first being the children’s hospital built in 1937 (seen above) which we explored, and a group of buildings from the turn of the century that were set up as a tuberculosis hospital (see last picture). The 90’s horror flick “Jacob’s Ladder” was filmed in one of the buildings of the TB hospital.
The children’s hospital was abandoned about 20-25 years ago. It’s amazing how quickly things can deteriorate in that amount of time:
The building was set up with six floors with symmetrical wings, as well as a basement that held the kitchen, and a sub-basement with the furnace. It is hard not to be awestruck at how much gets left behind, as though it was done in a hurry:
This was our first venture of this kind. It was tense; ones senses are heightened, as one needs to be on the lookout for the perils of deterioration, as well as the police substation right behind the building. But with this heightened sense comes a greater attention to detail, such as seeing the intricacies of peeling paint:
The TB hospital is on some sort of historical registry, due to the intricate mosaics that ornament the building:
Not believing one whit in the paranormal, it is still hard to be immune to the lasting imprint of the suffering that went on in these places. More than likely, a child died in this crib, seen through the window:
We have some more adventures planned shortly, so I’ll keep you updated as they occur. To see the complete slideshow of this set, in all of its full-sized glory, click here.
were the broken windows on the top floors broken out or in?
It is incredible what a powerful human imprint remains behind in bricks and mortar. When I lived in Berlin, many years ago, before the wall came down, we used to visit an old bombed-out department store that hunkered in the unreclaimed area next to the series of razor wire fences and guard towers that formed the “no-man’s land” against East Berlin. That interior was similar to your hospitals, only vaulted and Wagnerian in its dimensions. We always spoke softly and stayed close together, not just to avoid collapsing through the floor-boards, but also because we sensed we were in the presence of unspeakable pain and longing.
and remind me that somewhere in VT (I think St. J?) there is a grove of ruined commercial buildings by the river that were abandoned after the 1927 flood, the shells of which remain. Anyone know for sure?
Also check out http://www.forgotten-ny.com
they’re very cool.