If you spend enough time on Bored Panda, sooner or later you stumble across a familiar name in the byline or comments:
Ashley Mason. One minute you’re scrolling through photos of perfectly sliced cake, the next you’re standing
(virtually) in a collapsed theater or mossy hallway, wondering who on earth thought it was a good idea to go in there with
a camera and a flashlight.
Ashley is one of the platform’s many community members who help give Bored Panda its distinct feel: a mix of curiosity,
humor, and “wow, I didn’t know I needed to see that today.” Through posts about abandoned places and conversations under
other people’s stories, she represents exactly what Bored Panda was built for – creative people sharing visual stories
that make boredom a little less likely and the internet a little more human.
Who Is Ashley Mason on Bored Panda?
On Bored Panda, Ashley Mason appears as an author and community member attached to user-submitted content,
including the photo story “I Explore Abandoned Places In My Free Time. There’s So Much Beauty In The Forgotten.”
In her short profile description, she’s described as an urban explorer who loves dogs, punk music, tattoos, body
modification, vinyl, and, very relatably, food.
That short bio already tells you a lot. You can almost picture the backpack: camera, spare batteries, probably
headphones playing something loud, plus snacks for when the exploring (or the editing) runs long. She’s not presented
as a staff journalist or editor but as a core example of Bored Panda’s open community model, where
anyone can submit a story, photo essay, or list as long as they follow the platform’s rules and editorial standards.
An urban explorer with a camera and a curious eye
Ashley’s signature contribution is her love of abandoned places – factories, theaters, hospitals, and
homes that time has chewed up, but not quite swallowed. In her post about exploring forgotten locations, she frames these
sites not as horror-movie sets, but as unlikely galleries where rust, peeling paint, and broken windows form their own
kind of design.
This approach echoes a broader trend in photography and storytelling: urban exploration (often called “urbex”).
Photographers and writers around the world have been documenting decaying buildings for years, turning them into visual
essays and coffee-table books that celebrate the “beauty in ruins.”
Ashley’s work sits squarely in that tradition, but with the accessible, community-first feel that makes it perfect for
Bored Panda’s audience.
Urban Explorer Turned Storyteller
Urban exploration can sound glamorous, but in reality it’s usually a mix of mud, dust, and a lot of cautious walking.
Guides for urbex photographers emphasize safety first: never go alone, always tell someone where you’re going, assess the
building from the outside, and learn as much as possible about the site before you step through any broken doorway.
Ashley’s abandoned-place images on Bored Panda capture the payoff of all that preparation. In her post, she talks about
exploring forgotten buildings with a friend and finding happiness in documenting them – turning rusted staircases,
crumbling chairs, and silent hallways into fragments of a story that anyone scrolling on their phone can briefly step
into.
That’s the heart of her work: transforming “off-limits” spaces into shared experiences. The average
reader will never wander through a long-abandoned hospital or theater, but Ashley’s photos and short captions make those
places feel close enough to touch, without anyone needing to climb a single fence.
Why abandoned places fascinate us
Photographers and writers who specialize in abandoned spaces often describe them as “ghost archives” – physical
reminders of lost industries, communities, or eras.
A derelict power station, a decaying hotel, or a shuttered amusement park can feel like stepping into a museum where
nothing is labeled, but everything is meaningful.
Ashley’s Bored Panda posts tap into that fascination. Instead of treating these places as jump scares or urban legends,
she frames them as quiet, textured, almost poetic scenes. The result is less “haunted house” and more “time capsule,”
with viewers invited to imagine who used to sit in those dusty chairs or look out those broken windows.
How Bored Panda Works – And Where Ashley Fits In
To understand why Ashley Mason matters to Bored Panda, you have to understand the platform itself. Bored Panda is a
visually driven entertainment and culture site, famous for art, photography, design, and internet curiosities curated
into eye-catching lists and features.
Over the years, it has grown into a global media company with professional editors, but its DNA is still rooted in
user-submitted content – people like Ashley uploading their work and stories.
Tech and marketing writers often hold up sites like Bored Panda as examples of user-generated content
(UGC) done right: real people share real experiences, and editors help package the best of it into shareable
formats. Research on UGC shows that audiences see it as more authentic than polished brand campaigns, which makes them
more engaged and more likely to trust what they see.
Bored Panda’s own description emphasizes that it’s a community-driven magazine where artists and creators can turn their
stories into viral features.
Ashley fits this model perfectly: she’s not a faceless content producer; she’s a named community member whose interests
(urban exploration, dogs, tattoos, music) shape the kind of stories she brings to the site.
A familiar name in comments and credits
Beyond her own post, Ashley’s name also appears in connection with other Bored Panda content – including viral lists about
oddly satisfying food photos, funny taxi and Uber moments, bad tattoos, leaf art, and freckled portraits.
Sometimes she appears as a community member, sometimes near comment threads, but the pattern is clear: she’s part of the
regular crowd that keeps conversation alive under the stories.
In any online community, this kind of “familiar stranger” is crucial. You may not know Ashley personally, but seeing her
name pop up gives the site a sense of continuity and personality. It reminds you that behind the headlines and thumbnails,
there are real people reacting, debating, and occasionally arguing about whether a tattoo is tragic or iconic.
What Ashley Mason Teaches Us About Online Creativity
You don’t have to be an urban explorer to learn from how Ashley uses Bored Panda. If you’re a creator, photographer,
writer, or just someone with a weirdly specific hobby, her presence on the platform offers a kind of roadmap.
1. Lead with a strong, clear niche
Ashley’s niche is instantly recognizable: abandoned places. She’s not trying to post every kind of
content under the sun. Instead, she leans into what genuinely fascinates her, which makes her stories feel focused and
memorable. This aligns with what many digital storytelling and photography experts recommend: pick a narrow theme and
explore it in depth instead of chasing every trend.
2. Use visuals to do the heavy lifting
On Bored Panda, images are the main character. Ashley’s posts pair short, casual text with striking photographs of
decaying interiors, collapsed seating, and eerie corridors.
That balance matters: the visuals grab attention, while the captions quietly guide interpretation. For anyone posting
online, it’s a reminder that you don’t need to write a novel under every image; a few well-chosen sentences can be more
powerful than a wall of text.
3. Embrace community, not just audience
Ashley doesn’t just drop content and disappear. Her name shows up under other people’s posts too, which is part of how
Bored Panda maintains an active comment culture around everything from food photography to street art.
Marketing studies on user-generated content consistently point out that communities thrive when members interact with each
other, not just with the brand or platform.
Ashley’s mix of posting and participating reflects that “community over audience” mindset – and it’s a big part of what
keeps platforms like Bored Panda sticky.
4. Respect the ethics and risks of your niche
Urban exploration has its dangers: unstable floors, hidden hazards, and legal gray areas. Safety guides emphasize
assessing structures from the outside, watching for structural damage, and never pushing past what feels safe.
While Ashley’s Bored Panda posts don’t read like lectures, the fact that she explores with a partner and treats the sites
with visual reverence suggests an awareness of those responsibilities.
For anyone inspired to follow in her footsteps, that’s an important lesson: the story is only worth telling if everyone
gets home safely.
Why Ashley Mason’s Stories Belong on Bored Panda
Bored Panda has always thrived on content that hits three notes at once: visual punch, emotional resonance, and
shareability. Ashley’s work delivers all three. Her abandoned-place images are visually striking, emotionally
loaded (nostalgia, curiosity, a little sadness), and easy to share – both within the site and across social platforms.
At the same time, she embodies a broader cultural shift: user-generated content and independent creators are increasingly
competing with – and sometimes outperforming – traditional media in terms of attention and even ad revenue.
In that landscape, people like Ashley aren’t just hobbyists; they’re part of the ecosystem that keeps digital magazines
alive, interesting, and worth revisiting.
In other words, when you see “Ashley Mason – Community member” under a Bored Panda story, you’re not just looking at a
random username. You’re seeing one piece of a much larger mosaic of creativity that makes the site feel like a constantly
evolving collaborative magazine.
Extra: What It Feels Like to Explore Forgotten Places and Share Them on Bored Panda
To really appreciate what Ashley Mason brings to Bored Panda, it helps to imagine the experience from her side of the
camera. So picture this: it’s early morning, the kind of gray light that makes everything look like a movie still. You and
a friend are standing outside a building that most people only ever see from the highway – a place they mentally label
“creepy” and then never think about again.
Up close, you notice details you’d never catch from a distance: a cracked tile with a tiny painted flower, a rust line
where an old sign used to hang, torn curtains fluttering in a window that hasn’t properly closed in twenty years. You
check the structure, look for signs of serious damage, and talk through the plan: which areas look safe, which should be
skipped, how long you’ll stay, and when you’ll check back in with someone outside. Safety first, photos second.
Inside, the air smells like dust and rain leaking through roofs. Your flashlight picks up faded paint, graffiti, and the
occasional weird object that makes absolutely no sense (why is there a single pink office chair in the middle of this
hallway?). You set up a shot, steady your breathing, and press the shutter. The camera captures what your brain is
already doing: framing chaos into composition.
Later, back at home, you scroll through the images on your computer. Some are instant deletes; others make you sit up a
little straighter. A perfectly symmetrical staircase. A peeling wall that looks like an abstract painting. A row of seats
in an old auditorium coated in dust but still somehow dignified. You tweak contrast and color, but not too much – part of
the magic is leaving the imperfections visible.
Then comes the Bored Panda part. You sign in, start a new post, and upload the images in a sequence that feels like a
miniature tour. You give the post a title that sounds like you’re casually telling a friend about your weekend:
something like “I explore abandoned places in my free time” because, honestly, that’s exactly what you do.
The text you write isn’t a manifesto; it’s a friendly caption. You explain that you’re an urban explorer, that these
places make you happy, that you want to share the beauty you see in them. Then you hit publish and go about your day,
half excited, half nervous.
Over the next few hours or days, the comment notifications start to roll in. Some people are stunned that these buildings
still exist. Others share stories about similar places in their own towns. A few ask questions about safety or legality,
which you answer as honestly and responsibly as you can. The conversation becomes part of the story.
That’s the real reward: not just collecting photos for your own hard drive, but dropping them into a space where millions
of people come to escape boredom and find something unexpectedly beautiful. On Bored Panda, your images sit next to
everything from cute dog memes to intricate art projects, but they still hold their own. They remind people that beauty
isn’t only in glossy, new spaces – it’s also in chipped paint, broken tiles, and buildings that have outlived their
original purpose.
For Ashley Mason, that loop – explore, photograph, share, connect – is what turns a personal passion into part of a
global conversation. And for the rest of us, it’s an invitation: the next time we see a crumbling building on the edge of
town, maybe we’ll feel a little less creeped out and a little more curious about the stories it still has left to tell.
