Where weird Austin and techy Austin meet Austin ?believes? in vintage-style neon, says Evan Voyles. ?We pursue it. It's a viable craft here. That's probably not true in a lot of cities.?
There may be no designer who?s left so deep an imprint on downtown Austin as the antiques dealer turned neon restorer turned neon artist. ?I've got, at any time, 75 signs along South Congress,? says Voyles, leaning over his work table, busily scraping the plastic coating off several pieces of wiring with a red Swiss army knife to expose the frayed fibers within. ?I like to maintain that number. It makes me happy.?

Austin born and bred, Voyles lives in his uniform: dusty cowboy boots, two necklaces, a bandana, two pairs of glasses propped atop his chin-length grey hair, and jeans, distressed legitimately. He recalls childhood road trips with his family along ?the Burnet Road,? as he says ?old-timers? call it, out of town to his grandparents? in Abilene. The drive featured more and more neon signs along the way, especially beyond the city?s limits. His mom would sort of groan at the sight of the signage, and dubbed the road ?the neon jungle.?
?Like, it was seedy and disgusting,? he laughs, ?but also dangerous and lascivious. And of course, me being me, I thought, ?Yeah. Neon jungle.? A completely different response than hers. I thought they looked amazing.?
Years after those road trips, not long after he decided against pursuing a degree in architecture at Yale, Voyles named his neo...