What the heck is a "Spirit House" anyway?

A spirit house 
(Burmese: နတ်စင် or နတ်ကွန်း); (Thai: ศาลพระภูมิ; rtgs: san phra phum) 'house of the guardian spirit'); Khmer rean tevoda, "place for the tevoda-spirit", or pteah phum, 
is a shrine to the protective spirit of a place that is found in the Southeast Asian countries of Burma, Cambodia, Laos, and Thailand.

Most houses and businesses have a spirit house placed in an auspicious spot, most often in a corner of the property. The location may be chosen after consultation with a Brahmin priest. The spirit house is normally in the form of a miniature house or temple, and is mounted on a pillar or on a dais.

The house is intended to provide a shelter for spirits that could cause problems for the people if not appeased. The shrines often include images of people and animals. Votive offerings are left at the house to propitiate the spirits. More elaborate installations include an altar for this purpose. - Wiki

And here's what they look like -- All kinds of 
Spirit houses. 

 Photos from Thailand, Burma and Laos during my extensive study blog called "Spirit House Safari - A searcher's Guide to Persuit".

(Click here to see the blog)

 "Ho Phi" Cambodia on banks of the Mekong River

Nat house and monk, Yangon, Burma

Mandalay, Burma

Spirit house - protecting Democracy- in Bagan, Burma 

Mandalay, Burma

 Long tail boats - Chao Prya River, Bangkok, Thailand

 San Phra Phum, Ancestors - Bangkok, Thailand

 Hindu Spirithouse, Bangkok, Thailand

 San Phra Phum - Bangkok, Thailand

  Hindu San Phra Phum - Bangkok, Thailand

 San Phra Phum - Bangkok, Thailand

 San Phra Phum  - Laos 

 San Phra Phum, Ancestors - Bangkok, Thailand

Where I was looking for Spirit houses 

The mighty adventurer in pursuit of the illusive Ho Phi north of Kuang Si, Laos

Ho Phi, Luang Prabang, Laos

Ho Phi factory - Xiang Ngeun, Laos

Guardian of the clothesline, Laos

Inle Lake, Burma



That was then, in Asia and I've brought what I learned 
from that culture and applied it to mine here 
in the good ol' USA.

This exhibit at the an Angelo Museum of Fine Art is the result of a long story that I will attempt to tell you below, starting here at the museum. Here is the announcement featuring three of fourteen Spirit houses made from remnants of collapsed homes and barns full of abandoned memories.
From my perspective, my work is about honoring the past as part of our evolution with a loyalty to stewardship of that legacy. 

From Smear Magazine

“Spirit House - USA” combine the electrifying quality of neon to revitalize a space constructed with ancient wood collected from fallen Eastside homes called Hofheinz houses. These houses were created post-emancipation to serve as homes for freed slaves. After witnessing the destruction of one on East Cesar Chavez, Ben felt moved to take some of the demolished wood home.

Hofheinz house

“There is a spirit in this material crying out in agony,” Ben says, “So I asked this wood and I know it sounds crazy – but it gestured somehow to me that it needed sort of a life put back into it.”

Ben began combining his “Spirit Sticks”, neon antenna he gifts to people who have recently lost loved ones, and the salvaged wood, some with nails still in tact. He says he wanted to show how quickly people dismiss history and the willingness of one generation to disregard the next. 

- Mary K Cantrell, Smear Magazine

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A news story of how my sentiment for stewardship intensified with the adoption and relocation of this house.

Home Is Where You Put It

 By Daniel Jenkins, Shelby Custer, Jonny Cramer and Helen Fernandez

While strolling through the tree-lined streets of South Austin’s Zilker neighborhood, just south of Zilker Park and Barton Springs Road, old, quaint homes contrast modern, lavish homes. The striking incongruence prompts an internal uneasiness. The scene shares similarities across many other historic neighborhoods in Austin, Texas.

The Little House before the relocation process began. Photo by Shelby Custer.

According to Politifact.com, the population of Austin increases by about 40 to 60 people each day, so a change in landscape is inevitable. Thus, old homes are demolished almost daily. But, for some, it’s important to maintain the historical integrity and culture of Austin’s original neighborhoods.

On October 27, a 1926 home on 811 Kinney Ave. went before the local historical commission to be deemed worthy of preservation or its opposite, destruction. In the end, the board ruled the home historically insignificant.

The owner of 811, Alice Parrish, age 68, grew up in the Zilker neighborhood. She rode her bike by 811 as a young child and purchased the house in 2006.

“I love to save things,” said Parrish. “And I end up thinking the little house and I will just grow old together.”

Her neighbor, Ben Livingston equally hopes to save the old home from demolition. He’s resided in the Zilker neighborhood for 17 years.

Patti Elias and Ben Livingston are the new owners of The Little House. They've resided in the Zilker neighborhood for 17 years.

“These walls [of 811] are like old people; the walls have stories,” said Livingston. “Can you imagine what stories these walls have seen after 80 years? This house has a lot to talk about.”

He describes trinkets of history found within the home. There’s an old wooden board that’s imprinted with the words, “Calcasieu Lumber.” Owned by two brothers, “the company employed builders and became a one-stop shop for those looking for a new home. During Austin’s residential building boom in the 1920s Calcasieu built many of the homes that created the subdivisions surrounding downtown Austin,” wrote the Austin History Center.

In the home built with redwood flooring, Livingston discovered other memorabilia including old marbles underneath the house and a newspaper dating back to 1958, which had been rolled up and stuffed into a chimney hidden behind a wall.

The Little House from helen fernandez on Vimeo.

Parrish and Livingston paired-up to preserve the home’s history. With the help Brown and Sons House Movers, Livingston mounted the house on a tractor-trailer and carefully transported the home to its new abode, 36 miles away in Wimberley, Texas.

In a note written and tacked to the wall of 811, Parrish wrote in the voice of the old home:

“I’m so thrilled and excited that I’m going to my new land and sanctuary in Wimberley. I know that you will take great, gracious pride in my well-being.”

With love,

811 – The Little House.”

Alice Parish talks about her thoughts on moving her beloved home to Wimberly. Photo by Shelby Custer

One old home was saved from its demise, but many more are turned into rubble and replaced by “McMansions” in the South Austin neighborhood.

Another neighbor, Susan Willis, who’s lived in her home that was built in the 1950s for 38 years, said, “I feel like I’m losing my sky due to McMansions and mega-condos. I feel claustrophobic; we’re getting closed-in on.”

Like many others in the neighborhood, including Livingston and his wife, Willis doesn’t necessarily appreciate the change in her neighborhood’s environment and landscape.

“It was once a friendly neighborhood, but many of the new homeowners are shut-off. There’s a fence around their house; the gate shuts automatically when they drive in. We never see the families; they want nothing to do with us,” said Willis.

Livingston adds, “We were once able to just show up at neighbors’ houses. We didn’t have to call or text before coming over.”

Ben Livingston was heavily involved in the process of relocation for The Little House. He is now the owner of The Little House. Photo by Shelby Custer.

The new, modern architecture also annoys many long-standing neighborhood inhabitants. Willis describes some recent homes constructed of cinder blocks as resembling “prisons” and some utilize the look of “cheap metal.” Meanwhile, they “all look alike and have little architectural value.” Willis dislikes the design and architecture company, Moore-Tate, and their distinct style of stark white siding and dark jutting roofs.

Developments are unavoidable in the city of Austin. Nonetheless, the neighbors in Zilker will do their best to maintain their beloved history and culture among the homes they reside in.

Good bye wishes

All that was left.

Dear reader, This is definitely the "work in progress" part from here on this blog is a fragmented mess of scattered thoughts from various journal notes that I'm using to continue writing.. STAY TUNED - I promise it will get better!

Ben Livingston found this plaque with the words "“Calcasieu Lumber," which means the house was built in the 1920s. Photo by Shelby Custer.

The Little House one day before the relocation process. Photo by Helen Fernandez.

Previous owner of The Little House, Alice Parrish, wrote a note in the voice of the old home. Photo by Shelby Custer.

Police show up late at night to oversee the removal process and transfer of the house into the streets. Photo by Shelby Custer

Rubble in the backyard of 811 Kinney Ave. Photo by Helen Fernandez.

The back side of The Little House. Most of the house has been renovated and improved over the years. Photo by Helen Fernandez.

Susan Willis has lived in her home for 38 years. She doesn't appreciate the McMansions that are being built in the neighborhood. Photo by Shelby Custer.

Ben Livingston gives the house one last walk around before it is barred for removal. Photo by Shelby Custer.

The Little House is being moved 36 miles away to Wimberly, Texas. Photo by Shelby Custer.

The entrance of The Little House, located at 811 Kinney Ave. Photo by Shelby Custer.

Ben Livingston talks about the historic things he's found inside the home. Photo by Shelby Custer.

A truck pulls the little house away from the land. Photo by Shelby Custer.

Construction of a new home in the Zilker neighborhood. Photo by Shelby Custer.

A truck pulls the little house away from the land. Photo by Shelby Custer.

The Moore-Tate homes are among the tallest homes in the neighborhood. Photo by Shelby Custer

Workers crowd the streets on the night of the removal. Photo by Shelby Custer.

A truck pulls the little house away from the land. Photo by Shelby Cust-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------KLST News:San Angelo, TX - Thirty years ago, neon light sculptor, Ben Livingston, began to see a neon sign as more than just a series of tubes and vibrant colors.

Now he sees it as an art form.

"I thought wow. If I could do this, I could draw with light like a crayon," Livingston says, explaining his fascination with neon lights after seeing an old Dutch Masters neon sign.

25 years after taking a neon glass bending workshop in Wisconsin, he started making neon light pieces for people in his life who were terminally ill.

"The intention was to allow the families of those loved ones to call up the moment of them being with their family member who was dying," Livingston explains. "When they die, they would always be able to look at that light and hold onto that memory."

Livingston called his neon creations "spirit houses" because much of his inspiration comes from the "Spirit Houses" of Southeast Asian culture that he studied there in great detail.

See his 2007 Asian travel blog: Spirit house safari

"This neon is so fragile, much like life itself. It's so forceful when its alive, just like we are in so many ways but with a flick--it could snuff out whatever it once was and it'll be gone. And all we'd have left is some broken glass and the memory of the light that was once there," Livingston says.

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How it all started

Other than my beloved cat, "Jeep" dying, I was on top of my game and luck was at it’s peak for me in 1993 when I was awarded a fellowship by the National Endowment for the Arts. 

An NEA fellowship for me, amounted to enough dough for a solid half year’s worth of all expense paid R&D that had me investigating all kinds of minerals and compounds that glowed real pretty with a short wave ultra violet light. That's exactly what's going on in the argon filled "neon" tubes that I was making and I was hell bent on making them the most beautiful thing anybody had ever seen. In order to find the best stuff to use, I would be traveling all around the country, digging up the most amazing glowing rock samples from the high plains desert of Oregon for Thunder eggs then down to Terlingua, TX for Terlingua Calcite, and then all the way to Franklin, New Jersey for... You guessed it, Franklinite! 

I spent countless hours interviewing members of the uber nerdy, Flourescent Mineral Society who are all passionate rock hounds and even physics professors. I wanted to see and know all about phosphorescent minerals. My favorite memory was when Dr. Glen Waychunas at Stanford explained how lightning bugs work.

For a formally unedumacated guy like myself, as a “Fellow” I was most ardent about the prestige of being recognized as what my friends referred to me as “laureate for a day”. 

That half year included a lot of investigation and discovery by trial and error as I would be actually creating luminous tubes in order to test out different compounds inside and by the time I had arrived with some solid results I had accumulated a body of work worthy of a full blown exhibit.. And that’s just what happened at Milagros Gallery at the Blue Star Art Center in San Antonio. 

On kind of a dare with "how to" suggestions by Chris Layton, Stevie Ray Vaughn’s drummer, this would also be the first time I ever played my music in public... Chris said: “Ben, you’ll have a captive audience, you can’t loose.” 

The show was very successful and playing music live was so fun that I arranged for the gallery have two openings! 

Thanks to the show, I could finally afford to join friends who were headed for Nepal to see what that's like and trek a couple hundred miles through the great Himalaya. 

We all met and left from LAX and after layovers in Japan and Thailand plus about seventeen hours in the air we finally came down out of the clouds. Gliding through patchy gray mist I began to see verdant terraces of primitive Napalese farmland below. Occasionally a blue patch would open up revealing the mighty snow capped Himalaya way off in the distance.. 

This was definitely the other side of the planet from home and it was looking like the opening scene of a Merchant Ivory film. 

I was completely mystified the moment we stepped off the plane. This place was by far the most exotic I'd ever seen and yet, oddly I had this strange sense that I was home. 

The shuttle ride into town was our first real adventure. The blasting horn parted our way through throngs of humanity, animals, smoke belching tuk tuks and every other vehicle that choked this incredibly polluted, ancient city. 

In spite of it all, life here seemed to exist with a peculiar harmony, even in its most raw and vital form, it made sense to me, all the way to the gats which are just above the The Bagmati River. Gats are where they cremate the dead on mounded pyres made of rice thatch and logs. Open fires burned bodies right out in the open as painted Sadhus sat meditating while families wash as children play and swim around in the river below.  

With the great domed Pashupatinath Temple in the background I watched white ashes float down covering my navy blue sweater, I thought: "Oh my God, here it is... all of it - the whole of life, happening in this moment, right before my eyes.. It was as if my mind just splay open to some new awareness of a world I'd never even known to consider. 

I've really never been the same since.

Experiences there caused a major shift in his awareness that forever changed his views about the joys found in a quality of life “vs.” lifestyle, which compel compulsive ambition. This was illustrated in his painting, “How I Decided Not to Move to New York City”.  

By 2007 Livingston had returned to South Asia for the fourth time to study deeper, his fascination with the spirit houses there, which can be found online at www.spirithousesafari.blogspot.com.

Discovery continues as a natural process of life which to Livingston is the highest level of aesthetics – the art of living.”

These days, after a five year intensive song writing and performing stint, he’s back to making neon light in an ongoing body of artwork called “Nightsticks” or “Spirit Antennae”, depending on whether their application is purely sculptural or spiritual in nature. Most recently his obsession is merging the two, paying respect to the shoulders of nature and our ancestors that we stand upon by creating his own version of “Spirit houses”.

A Spirit house is a mixed media construction that incorporates “Spirit Antennae” which when placed inside a shadow box made of dilapidated wooden remnants from collapsed homes and barns tells their secret stories of the ancients contained within.

For more information: www.beneon.com  or spirithousesafari@gmail.com