Mosaic-y breaky heart: The Abita Mystery House
The Abita Mystery House
review by Paul Oswell
“You’ve been here before,” the guy at the front desk says to my friend as we enter the Abita Mystery House. She had, in fact, been there before. This would have been around five years ago, and so he either says this to everyone, with a varying hit rate of success, or that’s an impressively photographic memory that he’s got there.
The ‘guy’ deserves a little more in the way of deference, being as he is the owner, the irresistible creative force behind this…how do you classify this place…an exhibition of folk art? Museum? Temple? I’m not really sure what it is, exactly. Whichever way you slice things, the guy is an artist by the name of John Preble, and his Abita Mystery House (named for Abita Springs, the town where it’s located) is a sprawling creation, both a collection and a living gallery. It houses “thousands of found objects and home made inventions”.
As we’re waved through to the main part of the complex (“You pay to get out!” John says with a smile), it quickly becomes clear that the furthest stretches of his imagination are all on display here. Wall-sized mosaics made from discarded objects of all descriptions stand next to miniaturized city scenes, sculptures of half-human hybrid creatures and a customized real-life Airstream trailer next to a several-feet-wide silver flying saucer. Eclectic almost begins to cover it.
Formerly the UCM Museum (the "you-see-em" Museum), this none-more-quirky stop might fall into the culturally broad category of roadside attractions. It represents a place that has more or less disappeared from American culture, many of them evaporating in the face of modern day theme parks and the like.
Every surface throughout the series of rooms and cottages is covered in ephemera, from quaint floppy disks and dusty religious icons to yellowed print ads and copies and copies of paint-by-numbers projects. Vintage arcade games like Galaga and Frogger chirp into life, a dozen random old radios line up on shelves, a small model of ‘Teri, The Three-Faced Dog-Seal-Dog' rotates in a glass case. You’re constantly bouncing between freak show and thrift store.
The main exhibits are dioramas of various sizes and complexity. They can be seen in large cabinets, some six or seven feet long, displaying Marid Gras scenes or bustling markets or historic Southern mansions, all populated by small plastic humans. Most cabinets have a button to press that lights up a room or moves a part of the model to bring it to life. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them ‘interactive’ but it’s a fun second or two of additional dopamine that you get as you move through them.
You’re free to wander around as you please and be drawn to whatever takes your fancy. Considering the fine line it walks between hoarded junk and conceptual art, the place is well organized, though with all due respect, that’s definitely a relative term here. You stop and wonder about the time investment, the artistic ethos at play, the motivation behind it all, but mostly you just experience the Mystery House.
We take an hour or so and make our way back to the entrance, which doubles as a gift shop. There’s Mystery House merch, of course, plus prints and postcards of John’s drawings of jazz musicians and Louisiana culture, and endless kitsch novelty items. Want a 50s/Sci-fi/B movie- themed car air freshener? You’re in luck.
“Cool people tend to buy a lot of souvenirs,” John says cheekily as we mooch about and pick up some mementos. He chats to everyone who comes through while we’re there, treating some like old friends, chatting about local politics and sports and whatever people want to shoot the breeze about. I’m tempted to ask him about it all, why it exists, but decide against it. Some mysteries should stay just that.
The Abita Mystery House is in Abita Springs, Louisiana. It’s about an hour’s drive from New Orleans. More information can be found at the official website, here.
review by Paul Oswell
“You’ve been here before,” the guy at the front desk says to my friend as we enter the Abita Mystery House. She had, in fact, been there before. This would have been around five years ago, and so he either says this to everyone, with a varying hit rate of success, or that’s an impressively photographic memory that he’s got there.
The ‘guy’ deserves a little more in the way of deference, being as he is the owner, the irresistible creative force behind this…how do you classify this place…an exhibition of folk art? Museum? Temple? I’m not really sure what it is, exactly. Whichever way you slice things, the guy is an artist by the name of John Preble, and his Abita Mystery House (named for Abita Springs, the town where it’s located) is a sprawling creation, both a collection and a living gallery. It houses “thousands of found objects and home made inventions”.
As we’re waved through to the main part of the complex (“You pay to get out!” John says with a smile), it quickly becomes clear that the furthest stretches of his imagination are all on display here. Wall-sized mosaics made from discarded objects of all descriptions stand next to miniaturized city scenes, sculptures of half-human hybrid creatures and a customized real-life Airstream trailer next to a several-feet-wide silver flying saucer. Eclectic almost begins to cover it.
Formerly the UCM Museum (the "you-see-em" Museum), this none-more-quirky stop might fall into the culturally broad category of roadside attractions. It represents a place that has more or less disappeared from American culture, many of them evaporating in the face of modern day theme parks and the like.
Every surface throughout the series of rooms and cottages is covered in ephemera, from quaint floppy disks and dusty religious icons to yellowed print ads and copies and copies of paint-by-numbers projects. Vintage arcade games like Galaga and Frogger chirp into life, a dozen random old radios line up on shelves, a small model of ‘Teri, The Three-Faced Dog-Seal-Dog' rotates in a glass case. You’re constantly bouncing between freak show and thrift store.
The main exhibits are dioramas of various sizes and complexity. They can be seen in large cabinets, some six or seven feet long, displaying Marid Gras scenes or bustling markets or historic Southern mansions, all populated by small plastic humans. Most cabinets have a button to press that lights up a room or moves a part of the model to bring it to life. I wouldn’t go so far as to call them ‘interactive’ but it’s a fun second or two of additional dopamine that you get as you move through them.
You’re free to wander around as you please and be drawn to whatever takes your fancy. Considering the fine line it walks between hoarded junk and conceptual art, the place is well organized, though with all due respect, that’s definitely a relative term here. You stop and wonder about the time investment, the artistic ethos at play, the motivation behind it all, but mostly you just experience the Mystery House.
We take an hour or so and make our way back to the entrance, which doubles as a gift shop. There’s Mystery House merch, of course, plus prints and postcards of John’s drawings of jazz musicians and Louisiana culture, and endless kitsch novelty items. Want a 50s/Sci-fi/B movie- themed car air freshener? You’re in luck.
“Cool people tend to buy a lot of souvenirs,” John says cheekily as we mooch about and pick up some mementos. He chats to everyone who comes through while we’re there, treating some like old friends, chatting about local politics and sports and whatever people want to shoot the breeze about. I’m tempted to ask him about it all, why it exists, but decide against it. Some mysteries should stay just that.
The Abita Mystery House is in Abita Springs, Louisiana. It’s about an hour’s drive from New Orleans. More information can be found at the official website, here.