Studio Notes No. 2:
What Remains of Glendale

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.

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.

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.
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-kitchen.pixels.com
- Heather