My wife and I were driving back from West Warrick one Winter night - The highway at night is a stark place. At times, it feels like you may be the only living thing in sight,

when suddenly a set of headlights illuminates your rearview mirror, blinding you back to reality. The peace of highway travel is often romanticized like in a Jack Kerouac

Novel. At times, it is.

On this night, it spoke with a different tone. My wife spotted orange smoke in the distance - We started to question if there was a fire nearby. We exited at the next

off-ramp into Johnston, Rhode Island. This is an area that I am familiar with but the dense smoke took me by surprise.

It was the Natural Gas Power Plant that sat across the street from the Central Landfill. One of the largest landfills in the state, which also makes it the largest superfund

landfill in the state. In the near zero degree outside tempurtures, the cooling towers were omitting such smoke that it could be seen in Providence. I had never seen it that

way before. I suppose, I never felt the need to stand alone in the dark, cold night in an industrial zone. But this.. this needed further investigation.

I returned only a few nights later - cameras in hand, film ready to be exposed and my batteries charged to record the sounds coming from the power plant.

The tempurtures were in the single digits but that wasn't what bothered me most - the dank smell of rotten eggs permeiated the air, swept through my nose and soaked into the

fabric of my clothes.

It took two washes to get rid of the stink.

Despite the conditions (and odor). I was alive - feeling excited. I shot for hours with reckless abandon. I pushed through the cold and camera malfunctions to make something

that felt like it could have been pulled from a Tobe Hooper movie.

I remember getting home that night. Much later than usual - my wife asked if I got any good shots. In my near dilirious state, I nodded an affirmative as my lips began to

thaw.