Casa Neverlandia and sculpture by James Talbot keep Austin delightfully weird
Never pass up a chance to see something creative or unusual. Seeing how someone’s passion gets turned into art fascinates me. So when I heard about Casa Neverlandia, the home of fellow Rice University grad, artist, architect, and free spirit James Talbot, I knew I had to visit. Talbot, as he prefers to be called, occasionally opens his South Austin home to the public for guided tours. In fact, another tour is available this Saturday, October 12th, and you can RSVP on his Facebook events page:
If you’re interested in magical places plus sustainable architecture, come check us out. Along with being on the cover of Weird Homes, Casa Neverlandia placed 3rd in Natural Home Magazine’s House of the Decade! Tours are $15 ea. (cash only), last about an hour, cameras are welcome, and yes, you may touch the art. Email me at talbot@talbotworld.com to RSVP and come get inspired!
Casa Neverlandia’s Facebook page
Casa Neverlandia is Talbot’s home but also his artistic canvas and experiment in green living. There’s a playfulness to many of his design choices, as seen in his elaborate doorbell consisting of a xylophone and homemade bells on the front porch. Guests are asked to play a tune to gain entry. He also has a PVC pipe “intercom” by the door that allows him to hear and speak to guests from several places in his home.
Inside, the decor is fanciful, New Age-ish, and deeply meaningful to Talbot. In the living room, a U-shaped arrangement of built-in sofas are plush with cloud fabric in red and blue, with fluffy cloud pillows and columns of blue glass in the bay window. This is his Air altar.
On an adjacent wall is his Fire altar, a sunken Rumford-style fireplace with a glittering, glass-mosaic dome and stone surround designed to direct heat into the room. A drain in the sunken floor allows him to hose out the space if necessary, and wood storage cavities on each side can be stocked via openings to the side yard.
You may have guessed from the fireplace that Talbot does not have central heat. Not that big a deal in an Austin winter, perhaps, although we do dip below freezing. But he also does not have air conditioning. When I heard him say this on his front porch on a steamy September midday, I briefly considered cutting my tour short. I’m glad I didn’t. While it was warm inside, it wasn’t exactly hot, and if there hadn’t been 15 people packed together it might have felt a bit cooler. Electric fans whirred in each room, and that helped. But a key feature that keeps the home bearable in an Austin summer is an insulated second roof that Talbot floated above the original roof. Living lightly informs all of the architectural decisions in his home.
Another wall contains the Earth altar, where some of his late father’s ashes are mixed into the plaster, he told us. His late mother, a Pisces, will be incorporated into the Water altar, which is yet to be installed on the fourth wall in the room. He offered a piece of art for purchase, if anyone was so inclined, to finance its completion.
Parts of the home, with its vivid colors and carpeted walls, reminded me of Graceland. A tiny music room with a ceiling wallpapered in old LPs fit that vibe.
Upstairs is a lofted sitting/sleeping room, bright with natural light, with Chinese-red bamboo poles, rope handrails, and prayer flags. The A-frame ceiling is lined with rolled bamboo fencing and lath made of bamboo he got for free from someone’s yard.
Talbot told us that he’s been using a compostable toilet in the backyard for years. But he does have an indoor toilet as well as this Captain Nemo-style bathtub-in-progress. He calls it a bath lagoon.
From the top-floor balcony, which is about 3 stories above ground, we were invited to cross a swinging bridge of his own design to access an observation deck at treetop height. Or, he offered, we could go back through the house and meet up in the backyard. With that, Talbot zipped across the bridge like a spider on a silken web.
Y’all, this is a plank bridge floating and wobbling three floors above ground, with chain handrails that lean outward in a V-shape. “Just pull the chains in toward your body for more stability,” he said, as the first guest stepped onto it. I eyed the bridge dubiously as each person went across, until finally I was the last one on the house side. I was starting to think Talbot might be less Peter Pan than Captain Hook, sending us all to walk the plank.
Ashamed to be the only one not brave enough to cross, I screwed up my courage, glued my eyes to the plank ahead of me, and shuffled across. The whole thing swayed and bobbed. I shiver a bit when I think of it. This is the view from the deck, looking back at the house.
Once you’re on the tower, you climb one more level to reach the top deck. Steep stairs lead through a trapdoor opening onto the upper platform. “I feel like a groundhog emerging from his hole,” I said to the group as I wriggled onto the deck. From this perch you can look down at the floating footbridge and the back of Talbot’s home…
…and over the roof at a view of downtown Austin. One day a developer is sure to buy this property and build a towering, multi-million-dollar modern house to grab that view, but for now Talbot enjoys it from atop his Neverlandia hideaway, which he bought in 1979 for just $13,000.
There’s a fireman’s pole (of course there is) to make a quick exit from the tower, but we all took the stairs.
Back on terra firma, I explored the backyard, which is shaded by gnarled live oaks that are hundreds of years old. Talbot stores his art and building supplies here and in two workshops behind the house. My palms were perhaps too sweaty after the bridge adventure to take more pictures, but I did thoroughly enjoy my visit to Casa Neverlandia. Talbot is helping to keep Austin weird and inspiring others to use energy more efficiently, and I love that he’s willing to share his unique vision with the rest of us.
Just a few blocks away on South Congress Avenue stands another monument to Talbot’s creativity, Your Essential Magnificence.
Commissioned by the City of Austin and installed in a public median in 2011, the piece “honors the glory that is in you. May it remind you that your inherent goodness, your majesty, your essential magnificence, is never in question.”
Portholes offer framed views of the streetscape…
…or your face, if you walk around back and use a stone block to peer through a hole.
Your throne awaits, you magnificent creature you.
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Digging Deeper
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All material © 2024 by Pam Penick for Digging. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited.
Wow, that’s amazing. It’s scary, beautiful, eclectic, scary. Did I mention scary? Could I go across that bridge? I’m not so sure. Thanks for posting this. The house and tower look like fun.
That bridge was scary, but I did it! 🙂
So cool. Not sure if I would have crossed the plank!
There is no way I would have used that plank bridge, you are a brave woman!