Noah Savett: The Dupre House Art Installation
In the bitter dawn of 1978, Noah Savett found himself entangled in the gossamer threads of love — a love both radiant and ruinous. Saratoga Springs became his Eden, shared with a woman named Lisa, whose beauty turned his solitary world into a pulsing, chaotic melody. They met amidst the perfumed haze of an artist’s gathering, where ideas and passions collided like drunken moths against a flame.
Before Lisa, Noah had been a phantom of the deep woods in Schuylerville, a figure rarely seen in the light of social frivolities. Yet Lisa’s siren song lured him from his sanctuary of steel and silence, her presence igniting emotions he could neither tame nor comprehend.
But such loves are rarely kind. Lisa, intoxicated by the thrill of Noah’s untamed ways, soon grew weary of them. Her gaze wandered, settling on Paulie, a so-called friend whose betrayal would cut deeper than Noah’s own bitterness. What followed was an eruption of anger—a storm of shouted words and shattered silences. Lisa, defiant and cruel, pursued what her heart desired. Noah, smoldering with fury, gave no quarter.
Then, one night, the world burned. Noah awoke to the barking of his dog and the acrid stench of smoke. Flames licked hungrily at his home, swallowing it whole. Grabbing his dog, he fled into the cold night, his life reduced to embers behind him.
As he stood in the charred remains of his life, rumors began to swirl. Whispers of a man named Josh Dupre—a ghostly figure accused of arson—fluttered through the streets, but no answers were ever found. The tragedy became myth, and the burnt wreck was christened the ‘Dupre House.’
In the wake of destruction, Noah stumbled through a desolate street, his eyes catching the glint of something discarded. Spools of cable wire, forgotten beside a dumpster, called to him like whispers from the abyss. He dragged them back to the wreckage, driven by a feverish compulsion.
Alone and silent, he worked the wire through the husk of his home, weaving it inside and out as though constructing a metallic shroud. His movements were mechanical, trance-like, but they drew attention. Strangers gathered to watch, their curiosity soon transforming into participation. Artists appeared, their hands eager to contribute to Noah’s strange, unfolding vision.
Scrap metal and pipes joined the tangle of wire, hung like relics of grief from the ceiling of the hollowed-out structure. Unwittingly, Noah was creating an elegy—a monument to his fury, his heartbreak, and his confusion over Lisa.
When the installation was complete, Noah threw open the doors to the "Dupre House," inviting the world to witness his catharsis. The crowd surged, drawn by whispers of the peculiar artist’s work. Wine, beer, and bourbon flowed freely, and the night descended into revelry.
But the 1970s were unforgiving, and the neighbors’ concerns summoned the police. Baton-wielding officers arrived to disperse the drunken masses, their blows shattering the fragile triumph of the evening. As the revelers dissolved into the darkness, Noah stepped outside, exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin.
A silhouette emerged from the shadows, her voice cutting through the stillness.
"What was this all for, Noah?"
“Lisa?” Noah replied.
She stepped closer, her face illuminated by the faint glow of a distant streetlamp. Her beauty struck him like a familiar wound, but behind it lay a treacherous memory — the scent of smoke, the flames that had nearly consumed him.
"For you," he replied, his voice a jagged whisper.
Lisa tilted her head, her lips curving in disbelief. "For me? I didn’t know you cared so much."
Noah’s chest tightened as her words stirred something deep within him — a flicker of the love that once was. But then the memory of betrayal surged forward, and his hand, trembling with both longing and rage, rose to her throat.
“I don’t,” he murmured.
Two days later, the home was flattened by a bulldozer along the Noahs’ feeling that he held for Lisa.
Noah Savett and the destruction of the Art Installation “Dupre House”