The Swampville Supermax

blackmask/pvd Site Icon Swampville Supermax Asylum


A couple of years ago, I made a trip with a friend named J out to Massachusetts to visit one of the state’s old Tuberculosis hospitals. This spot is well known for a short list of unique features, including a couple rooms with interesting medical machinery. It was a weird, informal and unplanned visit, and we hadn’t done much to get the temperature of the spot. Turns out the place had seen a lot of traffic, and security couldn't wait to meet us. Read more...

blackmask/pvd Site Icon Hospital Drive


It had been almost four years since my last trip to Connecticut to visit the 'wich. That trip back in 2006 had ended abruptly after running into the crew for VH1's Celebrity Paranormal Activity, which was ironically kind of terrifying. Maybe not quite as terrifying as it would have been to run into Gary Busey in an abandonment. I might have been 20 at the time, and the kids I was visiting with were 17 and 18. I wasn’t interested in a finding out how getting charged with Aiding and Abetting a Minor works, so our visit ended with a headlong sprint through the pitch the black tunnels, towards the train tracks. That trip, along with recent news the place had finally transitioned from private security to police patrols, had me wondering if it was worth it to go back. Fortunately, I had a friend who had been there “like, literally hundreds of times” and when our half-assed attempt to drive to Poughkeepsie went bust, we wound up here in Connecticut.

We decided to start with the buildings on the eastern side of the road, near the lake. He hadn’t seen them in a while, and I had always avoided them after hearing stories about SWAT drills taking place on this side of the campus. So we made our way through the first building we happened upon, which despite it being a tiny outlying building, offered some new things to shoot. The air inside was cold and musty, and made me think about the trips I had made here when I was just out of high school. The floor was that familiar tile and moss, and the plaster on the walls was still crumbling away to reveal the thin rusted metal beams that lined the inside of the walls. That familiar sense of relaxation set in when you realize that you’re done huffing up the hill in a sweatshirt with 30lbs of camera gear, and now you’re safely hidden inside some old temple dedicated to the worship of early 1900s mental health. Read more...