In the shadowy depths of the White Bay Power Station Turbine Hall basement, massive concrete columns rise toward the operating floor, their surfaces stained by decades of industry. Rusted steel structures loom overhead, their once-pristine frames now corroded and worn. Heavy chains dangle from above, forgotten and unmoving, remnants of machinery long at rest.
The walls, streaked with grime and rust, hold the imprint of years of heat, moisture, and relentless work. The air feels thick, still carrying the faint scent of machine grease. A lingering trace of the activity that once filled this space. The floor, scattered with debris and remnants of forgotten equipment, tells a quiet story of abandonment.
This striking industrial print captures the weight of time in a space built for power, now reclaimed by stillness and decay.