The Black House Museum, Chiang Rai.

The Black House Museum, Chiang Rai.

June 2015.

It was a humid, overcast day in Chiang Rai as I jumped into a tuk tuk bound for the bus station. Following my afternoon exploring the fascinating and highly bizarre White Temple, I was now off to discover another uncompromisingly weird exhibition of traditional and modern art.

Located half an hour outside the city centre, my destination was the Baan Dam Museum, better known to foreign tourists as The Black House Museum. Or simply Black House. “Which is weirder, the White Temple or the Black House Museum?” ask several bloggers online. Everyone, it seemed, had a different opinion. Thus my curiosity was piqued, as the bus chugged out of the station. 

Like the White Temple, The Black House Museum was the creation of a well-known Thai artist. Thawan Duchanee was a renowned painter, sculptor, engraver and architect. He drew inspiration from Thai, Japanese, Indian and Chinese art. In 1975 he created the museum we see today, though back then it functioned simply as his home with a couple of onsite art studios. 

The Black House Museum, Chiang Rai.

However, Duchanee had grand plans. Over the next 36 years he developed and expanded his land, building numerous wooden houses, pavilions, halls and huts. Some served as art exhibits, workshops and studios. Others he used as meeting rooms and lecture spaces in addition to housing for the art students who came to live here.

As I entered the museum that day (80 Baht/$2.30), I immediately came face to face with a trio of these dark, A-frame structures. Now this was certainly a whole other vibe compared to the White Temple.

Whereas the White Temple is predominantly a celebration of goodness and purity, Black House champions interpretations of death and the darker, more melancholic sides of human nature.

Consider this grisly scene, for example, in one of the main exhibition halls. Numerous paintings depict hell. Elsewhere, crocodile skin and a large skull decorate a long wooden table.

A handwritten sign, meanwhile, encourages visitors to leave donations in and around the skull. This helps to support the museum and, apparently, can protect us from the unwanted attention of evil spirits and dark forces. I dropped a coin onto Mr. Croc’s nose and got away from him as fast as I could.

Baan Dam Museum. 

The crocodile wasn’t the only dead animal on display. In fact, animal lovers may well have a tough time with the museum. Under a locked wooden hut, set alone on a grassy space, lies a complete elephant skeleton!

Defending himself to media outlets back in the early noughties, Duchanee was keen to stress that all the animals featured in his museum had died of natural causes. And that there wasn’t a sadistic element to his collection.

Rather, he intended that many of the displays channel the importance of animal bones/skin in tribal traditions. Inside an open-air exhibit, I found indigenous handmade crafts, such as baskets, drums and cages.

All around them, some standing, some hanging, is an array of buffalo and ram skulls. This is a nod, by all accounts, to the major hill tribes of northern Thailand: the Lahu, Akha, Palaung, Karen, Mien/Yao and Lisu.

In a small lecture room, I discovered that buffalo horns had been used to craft numerous wooden chairs. Sitting down on one, I had a giggle at how incredibly uncomfortable it was. And how, when viewing the room, I couldn’t help but conclude that it looked like a meeting chamber for the Council of Global Evil.

The Black House Museum, Chiang Rai.

While hardly charmed by all the bones and skin, I was admittedly impressed by many of the wooden buildings scattered around the compound. Duchanee built a bunch himself, while others were created by guest artists.

Most feature local wood, stained dark black or deep brown with carved pointed tails or horns, depending on your perspective. They have a menacing even gothic feel to them. The one pictured below, topped with clay tiles, houses two wooden Buddhas.

Another, Tri Phum (Triangle House), is available as a residential apartment for artists, writers and art students. It is one of the earliest of Duchanee’s creations, crafted throughout 1976 and 1977. According to several online articles, it has had a tumultuous history, having been severely damaged no less than three times by various storms.

Most impressive of all is the so-called Cathedral, designed by Duchanee and constructed by a team of Thai engineers between 1999-2009. Inside, there are regular seminars on Buddhism as well as drawing workshops for aspiring young artists.

Wherever I roamed throughout the museum, I was never too far from an image of Duchanee. Sometimes in the form of a wooden sculpture or an unflattering clay head. In one hall, a cardboard cutout of the man greeted me as I entered. I had seen a similar cardboard figure of artist Chalermchai Kositpipat at The White Temple. 

Baan Dam Museum. 

In that same hall I came upon a lavish memorial to the artist, with a framed photo tucked onto the back of a golden eagle. Duchanee suffered from a host of health complaints in his later years, including diabetes and hypertension.

Eventually, he passed away from liver failure on September the 3rd 2014 aged 74. This was about nine months prior to my visit to the museum. Duchanee later received a royal funeral in Bangkok, where her Highness Princess Sirindhorn oversaw his cremation.

Feeling that I had seen about as much skin, bones, horns and general weirdness as I could handle, I decided to head away from the buildings in order to drink in the calmness of the gardens. I must say it was lovely, with exotic plants, fulsome trees, grassy lawns and even a few horses nibbling the greenery.

Soon, my wanderings brought me to a cluster of altogether different buildings at the back of the complex. Much to my surprise, these were white stone structures with not a hint of wood. Actually, they looked a bit like igloos and pod houses.

The Black House Museum, Chiang Rai.

Most were locked, though a few housed exhibits of… yes…. animal skin, bones, horns and all that jazz.

One such creation had been modelled to look like a fish! Mouth agape, with a porthole for an eye, it is a puzzling albeit fun addition to the show.

With thoughts of fresh fish for dinner, I began sauntering back through the garden towards the exit. Between the trees I went, reflecting on my magical two months in Thailand.

I had covered so much ground, from north to south and back up north again. Between buzzing cities, lazy river towns, isolated villages, ruined temples, dusty canyons, dense jungles and pristine tropical islands.

There had been so many rich and varied experiences along the way. Including, among many others, a monkey-infested hilltop palace and the world’s second longest wooden bridge. Exploring the floors of an abandoned skyscraper and paying my respects at a poignant World War II cemetery. Trekking with elephants, hunting elusive waterfalls and taking in a sublime, unparalleled private sunset.

Baan Dam Museum.

Finally, I was shaken from my daydreams by a cacophonous squawking. The sound, travelling far across the museum, was coming from a little bird. The poor thing was in a cage, a situation it didn’t seem overly delighted with. “Homeward bound!” he seemed to screech at me. “It’s over!”

The Black House bird was right. It was time to leave Chiang Rai. To make the long trip back down to Bangkok before an even lengthier journey home to The UK. There, family, friends and familiar comforts awaited. Moments before departing, I felt a surge of temptation rush through me. I could unlatch the cage door and let him fly off to freedom…

But of course I bottled it.

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