Not too far from our beloved New Hope and Lambertville I came across one of my favorite roadside attractions and the most bizarre find in the last decade or so. The VAMPA Museum (Visual Arts Museum of Paranormal Antiquities) is a collection of a little bit of everything in the world of the paranormal that I love so much. And it requires just a little bit of that carny spirit and make-believe to really embrace it and appreciate to its full extent.
The property shares (or plays second fiddle to, depending on your point of view) its space with an old barn bursting with antiques and garden decor. Marble statues from all kinds of different eras and tastes dot the walkways and paths leading to the museum. When I had first driven past, the word "VAMPA" was what caught my eye, but then the gigantic lawn dinosaurs were what caused me to do a double-take and almost rear-end a Mazda. That's not even mentioning the monolithic ice cream cone that monopolizes one of the shaded park areas.
When you pull off the main road and onto the property, it feels like you're immediately delicately driving through some sort of street fair, watching for pedestrians and hidden walkways. The gravel road takes you the long way around, behind the barn. I'm not sure there's any way to avoid having to first peruse the antiques before going to the museum, not that you'd want to miss it anyway. It only adds to the charm. If you manage to find parking and get around the massive barn structure, you walk through what can only be described as a fairy garden decorated with a smattering of Americana and chirping peacocks to approach the mansion proper.
That half of the property makes for its own kind of Sunday afternoon adventure, but my target was the spooky stuff.
The main building is what I consider "the mansion" -- the Americana drops off and the main walk takes on Roman-esque themes in artistry and then straight up haunted attraction with skeleton thrones and Nosferatu busts at the main entrance. There's no fanfare or ticket booth as you walk through the front door and into a richly-colored and wood-heavy parlor, the first real exhibit of the museum.
The ticket staff are usually sat behind a little table as soon as you walk in, and I've almost missed them in my handful of visits. It really feels as if you just wandered into some horror movie or game setting and this is the rich eccentric villain's mansion in the hills. VAMPA curators, if you're reading this, I'm down for playing the modern-day version of Riff Raff and hosting the late-night double-feature.
But once you buy your tickets, you're in. The first room is covered floor to ceiling in vampire-hunting kits. Some are quaint, shoe-box-sized outfits, while others would look right at home on the back of a horse and carriage out of Van Helsing. Massive storage trunks and chests, all teeming with holy weaponry and art. Velvet-lined chests with artistically carved stakes, metallic crucifixes, silver-tipped syringes, vials of holy water, and palm-sized pistols... there are countless ways to, presumably, kill vampires, on display in this parlor.
Some of the placards tell weird stories about the origins of some of these kits. One claims that its display once belonged to Michael Jackson. Not sure the validity of the claim, but it somehow makes sense. Further into the building, there is an 18th-centruy horse-drawn hearse, imported from Europe, with iron grates on specifically built to keep whatever was inside from ever getting out.
A part of the charm of the museum, to me, isn't proving the authenticity or actual uses of the pieces, but in appreciating the artistry and craftsmanship employed in bringing these fears to life. It's kind of a collage about the history of man's paranoia and fear of the unknown.
After kit-room, there are various themes of this fear and how they differ as you wind through the mansion. There are displays about demonology, witches, Ouija boards, haunted dolls... a little bit of everything. All the while, religious relics and statues fill out the rest of the space. Some text will either give the context of the specific piece, or share some pop culture related to the imagery (shout out to the demon Pazuzu, hiding under the staircase).
Some of my personal favorites are a hand carved rocking chair shaped like a skeleton (which allegedly belonged to Vincent Price) and a Victorian Ouija board, designed based on the art of Aleister Crowley himself. The numerous statues depicting Saint Michael spear-fighting demons (it goes without saying) go hard and are metal as hell.
Throughout the rooms are reminders about energies and not to touch the displays, as well as promises on this space being a safe and protected place. Kind of just a nice way of saying, appreciate and respect these pieces, but also don't drive yourself crazy in paranoia, too.
After wandering through increasingly darker hallways and exhibits, the final area opens up into brightly colored and well-lit rooms with holy statues and paintings. While not decidedly religious (and definitely not pontificating any specific message), it was cool to see this placed as a balancing piece to all of the spooky stuff throughout the tour. While I do not really know where I stand on the topics at hand, and don't subscribe to the same beliefs, you do really get the feeling that the owner is the real deal and a true believer. On the mantel in the final rooms are documents describing his visits to the Vatican and courses and certifications regarding demonology. So. So metal. Certainly beats my online ministry degree and unrelated, equally ill-used forklift certification. The people love certificates, almost as much as they love merch.
After the tour (or before, as mentioned) you're then welcome to wander the rest of the grounds and the antiques over in the barn. I really had to stop myself from taking home a ten-foot statue depicting an angel with a flaming sword, or a marble giraffe (it really depends on the day), but there's probably something for everybody. In my few visits, I've also noticed that they frequently host local artists and have tables set up on the main walkway, with witches selling candles and crafts, or beekeepers and their jars of honey... I'm sure the Girl Scouts could make a killing there, too.
Last I heard, the owner has a book detailing his own adventures in this realm coming out soon, and I'm going to try to attend one of his signings. Even if I don't follow the same path or believe in the same things, just buying into the world and hearing some of his stories, would surely be an enjoyable ride. There's some truth in the fantastic and I'm willing to listen to someone who walks the walk.
Definitely going to burn some incense and sage myself after though, just in case.
