Crumbling, abandoned American mental asylums from the early 20th century—like the one in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest—aren't places most of us would want to hang out. Photographer Jeremy Harris, on the other hand, has been going out of his way to explore and document their spooky ruins for almost 10 years.

“I just wanted to do it for the fun of doing it, and to see the places and document them for posterity’s sake,” he says.

Harris has a background in architectural photography, so his photos perfectly capture the lost beauty of the buildings. But his images also document the eerie environments, equipment and personal effects left behind, reminding us of the struggle and anguish that occurred inside.

“There were some very deranged people who lived in some of these places,” he says. “I saw seclusion rooms that had very obvious signs of scratches and scrawling on the walls, and dents on the doors from people who obviously were not in their right minds. And that’s very somber and humbling, to imagine being locked in a patient room with no access to the outside world.”

Harris landed on the idea for the project while watching a B-movie called Session 9, filmed at the Danver State Hospital in Massachusetts. He and his girlfriend at the time started trading pictures of similar institutions around the country. She had an uncle in upstate New York, and when the couple visited him in 2006, they paid a visit to nearby Olmsted Complex, an abandoned asylum. “Once I found my way inside that building I was pretty much hooked,” he says.

The buildings Harris photographs stemmed from a movement in the 1800s in which doctors advocated for more compassionate treatment, called "moral therapy," in hospitals epitomized in the famous architectural designs of Thomas Kirkbride. Such facilities, divided into wings and wards with big banks of windows often overlooking sprawling gardens, were intended to foster recovery. Unfortunately, the goal of "curing" people of mental illness often led to experimental attempts at therapy including surgery and electrocution.

Many hospitals were self-sufficient with gardens, theaters, butcher shops, morgues, and other amenities. Built high on hills or deep in the woods, they made the outside world as distant as possible. Over time, their populations skyrocketed, causing overcrowding and other problems that generated negative attention. When the deinstitutionalization movement took root in the early 1900s, the big mental asylums gradually disappeared as their role became integrated into larger health centers and psychiatric drugs became more prevalent.

What remains today are the embodiment of good intentions and questionable outcomes, prisons with a view that have cultivated their own reputation as well as a thick atmosphere. Their background adds a lot to the weight of the photographs and the experience of being there.

“I was particularly drawn to the insane asylums because of the history,” says Harris. "They are sort of dark places, or had their moments in history of being very dark places...but being inside them there’s an excitement, especially if I haven’t seen the place before. You never know what’s around each corner."

Harris has visited almost 30 sites, mostly along the East Coast and through the South, where they’re more common. The items he finds inside are sometimes stunning—an old pipe organ, fully equipped surgical suites, hundreds of leather-bound patient records dating to the 1800s. Of course, getting caught could mean trouble, even arrest. Some are near active hospitals and watched by cameras and security guards.

“Technically it’s not so much the abandoned buildings you’re not supposed to photograph, but there are laws against photographing patients,” says Harris.

Because of the Internet, it’s nearly impossible to be the first one to see one of these places, which often are picked clean by looters. Plenty of people find their way in, whether they’re other photographers or thrill-seekers looking for fun and souvenirs. Harris says he's exploring these places first and foremost as a photographer and a preservationist. But he also has a lot of fun doing it.

"I do enjoy the excitement of going into a place without permission and having to sneak past security and mental health police," he says.