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25 places, and what makes each one work

Liminal space examples, with photos

The classic liminal spaces are empty malls, hotel corridors, indoor pools, airports after the last flight, school hallways in summer, and gas stations at 3 a.m. Each is a place built for activity, caught with the activity missing.

A two-level mall concourse seen from the upper floor: blue railings around an open well, storefronts on both levels, several with their shutters down, and star-shaped skylights repeating toward the far end, nobody in it
A two-level mall concourse, several shutters down, skylights repeating toward the far end and nobody on either floor. Photo: Giant Asparagus, Pexels

What do these examples have in common?

Every example below is a place made for activity, with every sign that the activity should be happening, and nobody there. The lights are on, the doors are unlocked or the machines are ready, and the people are missing. If you want the full definition first, start with what a liminal space is.

Under that shared recipe, each place leans on a different ingredient: missing people, a missing time cue, a missing end to the route, lights left on, or a scale that echoes childhood. I have named the main ingredient for each example, so you can tell which one is doing the work in a picture you keep staring at.

Shopping and eating

1. Empty malls

A mall is a machine for crowds, with wide walkways, benches placed for waiting companions and music pitched to carry over chatter. Take the crowd away and all of that is still running, talking to nobody. Early mornings and late evenings produce the best versions, with the shops dark but the corridor lit. Missing people is the whole trick here.

2. Dead malls

A dead mall explains its own emptiness: the anchor store left, the shops followed, and the owner stopped paying for upkeep. In a 2014 photo essay on White Flint Mall in Maryland, the lights were on, escalators ran, and almost every storefront was gated. A clear explanation does not weaken the effect. These places keep running a little after their purpose has gone, and a blank directory by the door is the sign.

3. Food courts before opening

A food court is an eating room designed for hundreds at once, so an empty one looks like a stage with the audience gone. Hundreds of identical chairs, signs for restaurants that are not serving yet, trays stacked and ready. It works because the time cue is vague: you cannot tell whether the doors are about to open or the day is long over.

4. Closed arcades

Both senses of arcade count: a covered shopping passage under a glass roof, and a room of game cabinets. Either one has a roof, a row of fronts and a rhythm that suggests crowds. The cabinets are the childhood version, glowing pink and purple, stocked and humming for players who are not there. The scale of a place you once visited as a kid does a lot of the work.

5. Escalators with nobody on them

An escalator is a moving instruction to go somewhere. Twin ones side by side, one up and one down, make it more pointed, since both are in motion with no passengers to carry. Some people find them calming and some find them eerie, and the photographs often show both at once. What is missing is the person, and the machine keeps working regardless.

Two empty escalators rising side by side between concrete walls toward a lit landing, with strip lights along the ceiling
Two escalators side by side, both empty, both still climbing toward a lit landing. Photo: Brendan Rühli, Pexels

Hotels and corridors

6. Hotel corridors at night

Nearly all hotel corridors are built as one central passage with rooms on both sides, because that layout is cheap. At night, with the lobby far away and the carpet muffling every step, the passage becomes a place where nothing is happening on behalf of many people who are all behind doors. The cause is the lights left on in a space you are meant to pass through, not stay in.

A long, narrow hotel corridor with white doors on both sides and a boldly patterned carpet, a few exit signs hanging from the dark ceiling and a small dark opening at the far end
Identical doors on both sides and a patterned carpet running away to a dark opening at the far end. Photo: Magda Ehlers, Pexels

7. Motels

A motel is a hotel stripped to doors, parking and a sign. Postwar chains sold the pool and the air conditioning as part of the vacation, and a rusted sign with an arrow to a pool that may or may not still hold water is the modern version of that promise. The place was built for arriving, and now it waits for arrivals that may not come.

8. Identical doors to a vanishing point

This is the corridor problem in its purest form. When every door matches, the eye cannot count progress, and a long straight passage in one-point perspective reads as endless. Urban planner Kevin Lynch called the quality that helps us find our way "legibility," and these corridors have none. They are less a place than a pattern repeating.

9. Institutional corridors

Hospitals, schools, government offices: places with long hallways, dim lighting and doors that say what they are for in small print. After hours they feel like the hotel corridor with a different sort of authority attached. A door marked Human Resources, Closed, is its own small joke about who is not there. Pale green and beige paint do the rest.

Water

10. Indoor pools with no swimmers

Pools are loud when used: whistles, splashes, shouting, wet slapping feet. A still one removes all of that at once, and the flat surface reflects the roof, the rescue rings and the clock like a second room. The lifebuoys are hung for a swimmer in trouble, and the absence of swimmers is the point. Water that should move and does not is the cause.

The first-class swimming bath of the liner Aquitania in 1914: still, dark water between marble edges and fluted columns, ceiling lamps in a row, curtained cubicles along one side, a wicker chair near the far end and an empty gymnasium beyond
The first-class swimming bath of the liner Aquitania in 1914: still, dark water and nobody in it, more than a century before anyone called it liminal. Photo: Bedford Lemere & Co., 1914, National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, negative G10889

11. Drained pools

A drained pool keeps the shape and drops the water. The tile pattern, the depth markings and the ladders are all still in place, now leading down into nothing. Blue tile that was meant to be seen through water looks peculiar in plain air. You see a made thing without its function, which is close to the heart of the whole genre.

12. Hotel pools at night

A lit pool behind glass or a fence, seen from a window above, is one of the most common images in the genre. The water glows, the loungers are lined up, and the lights stay on because someone paid for them to. Holiday Inn once roofed its courtyards with skylights in the 1970s and called them Holidomes, which means a lot of these pools were also designed to be seen from above.

A long outdoor pool on a podium beside a wet laneway and an office tower, seen from high above at night in the rain, its underwater lights fanning across the floor of the pool, nobody in it or in the lane
A hotel pool lit for swimmers who have gone to bed, seen from high above in the rain. Photo: Aaron Wells

Travel

13. Airports after the last flight

Airports are made to be passed through, not lived in, and they run on schedules. After the last departure the screens still glow and the gates still have their signs. Berlin Brandenburg spent years like this before it opened in 2020, with lights on all night and a board listing flights that did not exist. A building built for arriving, waiting for its first arrival, is the extreme version.

The departures hall at Berlin Brandenburg on May 13, 2012, three weeks before the opening that was called off: a polished stone floor, rows of barrier posts, departure screens and check-in signs lit, a few seats and nobody waiting, with three workers in hard hats on the upper level
Berlin Brandenburg in May 2012, three weeks before an opening that was called off: screens lit, signs on, nobody waiting. Photo: Muns, "120513-BER-innen," CC BY 3.0, Wikimedia Commons

14. Train platforms between trains

A platform has one purpose, to wait on, and the gap between trains is its natural state. At night, with the lamps lit and the tracks empty, it feels like the stage between acts. There is a time cue: another train will come. What is missing is any sign of which one and when, and the timetable board cannot reassure you in a photograph.

An empty subway platform under cool blue-white light: a tiled pillar in the foreground, a long dark wall on the right with a strip of light above it, and the yellow platform edge running away into the distance
An empty platform between trains. Without the timetable you cannot tell whether the last one has gone or the next is a minute away. Photo: Zişan Özdemir, Pexels

15. Parking garages and underpasses

Both are leftover places, where you do not stop but pass through, under strip lights that show no hour. Concrete, painted lines, one bench nobody sits on. The levels of a garage repeat, so you can lose track of where you are, and an underpass offers a dim end that you can see but cannot yet judge. The machine is doing the work and the humans have left.

A tiled cycle and foot tunnel curving away under a line of lights, a red cycle lane with white arrows running into the bend, nobody in it
A cycle tunnel bending out of sight, the arrows pointing both ways and nobody coming from either. Photo: Jan van der Wolf, Pexels

16. Gas stations at night

The gas station canopy blazes while everything else around it is dark. Lighting researchers noted in 2001 that stations had started a brightness war, which is part of why the light is so insistent. We read lit places as open and staffed, so a bright canopy with no cars sends a signal the scene cannot confirm.

A small gas station canopy lit up at night, its pumps standing on a low island beneath it and the light spilling onto the paving around it, three traffic cones nearby, one lying on its side, and darkness on every side apart from a few faint lights at the right edge
A canopy lit for drivers who are not coming, darkness on every side. The same station is on the cover of the first book. Photo: Väinö Parjanen, Pexels

17. Laundromats at night

A laundromat is open late for people with shifts and no machine at home. With the doors of the washers hanging open and nobody folding, it becomes a lit box in a dark street. Plastic chairs, a change machine, a humming dryer. Lights left on again, this time in a place where the work is waiting for a person to start it.

A laundromat's tiled ceiling with lines of fluorescent tubes above rows of red machines, the light even, flat and cool
Rows of machines under flat fluorescent light, ready for customers who are not there. Photo: Stephan, Pexels

Work and school

18. Empty offices

Rows of identical cubicles, monitors dark, chairs pushed in. An office is organized around the hour, and out of hours it has nothing to organize. A lit office window from the street at night, with nobody at the desks, looks like work continuing after the workers have gone. Missing people is the effect, with a faint note of the missing time as well.

19. Classrooms in summer

Dictionary.com used this exact picture as its example sentence when it added the term in 2023: the classroom when school is out for the summer. The desks are in rows, the board is wiped, and the room is ready for a crowd that will not return for weeks. Childhood scale helps here too, since low desks and small chairs make an adult feel oddly large.

20. Waiting rooms

A waiting room exists so that people can sit there for a while, which means it is always nearly empty in the pictures people share. Four chairs, a magazine rack, a pastel wall. The decor tries hard to be neutral, and that neutrality is what makes it unsettling once the reception desk is unattended. There is no time cue and no end in sight.

Outdoors

21. Playgrounds at night

A playground is the place where noise is expected, so a silent one at night is a strong reversal. Add fog and a lamp, and the equipment becomes a set of shapes: slide, swings, climbing frame. Childhood scale gives the viewer a pull of memory, and the dark takes away the supervision that made the place feel safe.

A playground at night in fog, lit by streetlights, with slides, a jungle gym and swings and nobody on the equipment; cars are parked beyond
Slides and swings lit by streetlamps in fog, built for children who are all asleep. Photo: Sami Abdullah, Pexels

22. Foggy parks and streets

Fog is a free way to delete the background. It removes the skyline and the distance and leaves a streetlamp and a path that fades out. You cannot see where the path ends, which gives you the missing end without any building at all. My own fog photographs usually work because of what they hide.

A single shopping cart standing in a fog-covered parking lot at night, cart corrals behind it and a line of lamps glowing and fading into the gray
One shopping cart in a fogbound parking lot, the lamps fading into gray. The far end of the lot is gone. Photo: Chris F, Pexels

23. Fields under sodium lamps

An empty sports field under orange sodium lamps in mist has one of the strangest palettes you can find outdoors. Pitches are made for play and seating, and here there is neither. The orange light implies a street, a shift, a reason to be lit, and the weather erases the surroundings. The result is a stage with no show, outside.

Liminal spaces from the internet

24. The Backrooms yellow room

The most famous liminal image is an empty room with yellow wallpaper, beige carpet and fluorescent lights. A 2019 forum post turned it into the Backrooms, an endless run of such rooms. In 2024 online sleuths traced the photo to a hobby store in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, in the middle of a renovation. That is the whole genre: a place between two businesses, with the cause cropped out. See the Backrooms page for more.

25. The Poolrooms and dreamcore rooms

The Poolrooms are white-tiled, water-filled halls that the Backrooms community added as a later level, listed on one wiki as Level 37. Dreamcore goes a step further, into pastel palettes and rooms that look like a memory of a place. Both are built to look like the feeling rather than the building, which is how the word moved from real places to a style.

A round indoor pool under glass-block windows and a beamed ceiling, with a hose on the wall, a ladder, steps and nobody in sight
A round indoor pool under glass blocks, lit evenly and empty: the clean, glowing look the Poolrooms borrow. Photo: Chelaxy Designs, Unsplash

Want to shoot your own?

Every place on this page is an ordinary one at an odd hour, and none needs special access. If you want to find places like them, how to photograph liminal spaces explains where and when to go.

Frequently asked questions

What is the most famous liminal space?

The yellow room that became the Backrooms: an empty office-style room with yellow wallpaper, beige carpet and fluorescent lights, posted online in 2019. It was later traced to a hobby store in Oshkosh, Wisconsin, mid-renovation. Empty malls, hotel corridors and indoor pools are the most common real-world examples. See the Backrooms page.

Are abandoned buildings liminal spaces?

Sometimes, but not automatically. A ruin is usually clear about why it is empty. Liminal spaces keep the signs of use, such as lit lights, clean floors and working machines, while the people are missing. A dead mall that is still lit and still playing music can qualify, and a collapsed factory usually does not.

Where can I find liminal spaces near me?

Look at places built for crowds at hours when the crowds are not there: malls before opening, hotel corridors, school hallways in summer, parking garages, train platforms and 24-hour stations. Early morning and late night work best. How to photograph liminal spaces covers where to go and how to ask permission.

Is my school a liminal space?

Probably, at the right time. Dictionary.com used a classroom in summer as its example when it added the term. A school corridor in the evening, a gym with the divider curtain up, or a cafeteria before lunch all fit, because they are made for crowds and are empty. The full definition explains why.