Reading Time:  1 Minute 47 Seconds

The installation “Son’s House and Mother’s House” (Czech: “Dům syna a Dům matky”) honors Jan Palach and his mother, Libuše Palachová.
In 1969, Jan Palach was a young student, who let himself burn as a political protest against the Warsaw Pact’s invasion and occupation of Czechoslovakia.

Originally titled “The House of the Suicide and the House of the Mother of the Suicide”, the memorial was created under the patronage of the Prague City Gallery and was inaugurated on 16th January 2016, marking 47 years since Palach’s death.

The installation consists of two geometric metal bodies with a square base measuring 2.8 x 2.8 metres, and standing of 7.3 metres tall.
Both structures are crowned with metal spikes that symbolize flames.

The darker corten steel body represents the mother, while the satin-finished stainless steel body represents the son, symbolizing the bearer of light.

Inspiration and origin of the memorial

This work is based on drawings, prototypes, and photographs of the Czech-American architect John Hejduk.
The House of Suicide was initially part of a series of 26 conceptual drawings from his “Masques” cycle, which he developed on over several decades.

The first version of the memorial was created by university students in the USA.

Hejduk then realized a second version during a visit to Czechoslovakia in 1991, coinciding with an exhibition dedicated to him.
During this occasion, he met with then-President Václav Havel at Prague Castle, where this wooden sculpture was unveiled. Crafted by a local carpenter, it remained inside the castle until 2000, when it was removed, due to deteriorating conditions.

The current installation drew inspiration from David Shapiro‘s poem “The Funeral of Jan Palach”, written in 1969, shortly after Palach’s self immolation.
A commemorative plaque with the poem stands today in front of the memorial.

The Funeral of Jan Palach


When I entered the first meditation
I escaped the gravity of the object,
I experienced the emptiness,
And I have been dead a long time.

When I had a voice you could call a voice,
My mother wept to me:
My son, my beloved son,
I never thought this possible

I’ll follow you on foot.
Halfway in mud and slush the microphones picked up.
It was raining on the houses
It was snowing on the police cars.

The astronauts were weeping
Going neither up nor out.
And my own mother was brave enough she looked
And it was alright I was dead.