Studio Notes No. 2:
What Remains of Glendale
A black and white photograph of the elevator shaft at the former Glendale Mill in Spartanburg, South Carolina. The weathered brick structure stands alone in the aftermath of a fire, its vertical form a quiet remnant of a once-active textile mill.
The light was even and quiet — the kind of soft gray that makes everything feel paused. No shadows. No glare. Just stillness.
The mill stood like it had been waiting. Not just for me, but for anyone to look long enough.
I wasn’t there to document it. I was there to see it. Photographing it was just how I listened.
A black and white photograph of a silo at Glendale Mill, Spartanburg, South Carolina. Captured before the fire that destroyed most of the site, the image preserves the industrial lines and decaying textures of a structure now lost.
I moved slowly through what’s left of the structure — past the elevator shaft, the silo, the broken brick.
There’s no plaque here. No visitor center. No formal story to follow. Just what’s still standing and what’s been taken by time.
Some subjects don’t need to be explained. They just need to be seen with a certain kind of care.
A black and white photograph showing a partial view of the Glendale Mill elevator shaft with a smaller silo visible in the background. Brick fragments rest in the foreground, framing the scene with quiet disrepair. Captured before the fire that destroyed the site, the image preserves a layered perspective of the mill's industrial past.
These images are part of my Deep South collection — a series rooted in memory, erosion, and the spaces we leave behind.
Since my visit, Glendale Mill has been lost to fire. The cause remains unknown.
What you see here is what was left — before even more was taken.
Glendale isn’t just a ruin. It’s a place that held shape even as purpose faded. That held silence even when the world moved on.
Explore the full collection at
heather-kitchen.pixels.com
- Heather
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