Have you ever been hopelessly lost in an unfamiliar place? A discussion on the horror of liminal spaces | By Abigail Poh Lin Xian
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| Illustration by @ikeasharkfan37 |
An abandoned mall, an old playground at night, a dingy hallway leading into what seems to be an abyss - you’ve probably seen all these images before as you browsed online. While they seemingly have no connection to one another, the internet has collectively referred to them as liminal spaces. Just like the feelings they invoke, the definition of what constitutes a liminal space is often abstract and hard to pin down.
While the term liminal is defined by transitional qualities, whether it be physical or emotional transition from one place to another, what counts as a liminal space is much more fluid and imprecise. Liminal spaces are often loosely defined as empty, eerie or abandoned places that carry a strong surreal feeling. In recent years, the internet has developed somewhat of an obsession with photos or illustrations of liminal spaces. But why exactly do they make us so intrigued, yet so creeped out?
You may have noticed that childhood locations are a big theme in these images. Whether it is a colourful play center, a kindergarten or an old fashioned home, many liminal spaces have a strong connection to places you may have been to as a child. The appearance of abandonment or decay in these locations only seems to strengthen the connection to childhood as this period of life is often blurry and remembered in snatches of memory rather than as concrete moments. You could've easily been there at some point, but it has been so long that you just can't remember. It creates a sense that these places have been lost in time, left behind in the dust and only remembered through old, distorted images. The sense of horror here is muted, yet ever-present as the line between real memories and false ones disappear, often leaving us feeling disturbed.
Liminal spaces also seem to stir a strong emotional response due to the fact that the subjects in these eerie photos are highly divorced from their usual context. For example, images of empty, long abandoned or dark malls are a stark contrast from their polished daytime image and the typical large crowds we expect to see in them. It makes us do a double take when we see them, almost forcing us to recalibrate the way we think about something we experience all the time from a different perspective. This differing perception enhances the aspect of horror, as our minds start to wander and we imagine things - what goes on there at night, as an example? Have we ever stopped to consider?
The fear of becoming lost is something that liminal spaces frequently touch upon. While the backrooms are perhaps one of the most prominent examples of this, the general idea is the same across the board: tapping into the fear of somehow becoming lost in a place where no one else can ever find you. Liminal spaces seem to invoke a sense of timelessness, or rather, the sense that time does not exist in them. Adding to this fear is the fact that pictures of liminal spaces are often sterile, lacking humans or even animals, creating a sense of desolation - it is existentially terrifying to consider that everything is gone. Whether the photos are of endless corridors, flooded rooms, or labyrinthine buildings full of uncountable numbers of hallways, the idea that there is no exit and no one else to find you, no matter how hard you try, has made certain liminal spaces rather terrifying.
The power of the liminal space also comes from the simple fear of the unknown. Most of the time, the origins of liminal space photos are murky and vague. It is difficult to place exactly where photos of liminal spaces come from. Because of this, you may have noticed that it has become a trend to search for their origins. Besides simple curiosity, I personally think it is also a way for us to conquer our fears of these unknown, out of reach spaces. These places capture feelings that are hard to put into words or completely out of reach - the horror is more abstract and existential, rather than the conventional fear of something creepy. If someone could find their origins, they would feel more concrete and explainable, perhaps bringing finality and comfort instead of unnerving the viewer.
Even though liminal spaces invoke a quiet, muffled kind of horror, I think it is precisely that which makes these images so effective. It’s the kind of horror that lurks in the background long after you log off, wondering where these places are, and whether anyone can ever find them. The internet may move on from its obsession with these pictures one day, but many will still linger and wonder on.
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