The End of an Era

Art is a little bit larger than life - it's an exhalation of life and I think you probably need a little touch of madness.

Laurence Olivier

When he spoke, he was definitely southern. But don't be fooled. His wit was light years ahead of his own voice. He had a big head full of big ideas. He was busy; always busy. He was larger than life; legend; chef; the King.

Early on, I was faced with the prospect of leaving a voice recording on his home phone. I got this message: 
" You have reached the Cofers. Please leave your name and number at the beep. We would prefer verse or song." 
To say I was a little afraid of him would be an understatement.

We started small. I would visit Susan. Carl would be working. I would visit Susan at the farm. Carl would be busy. Little by little, I began to know Carl by learning to love that farm.

First of all, I need to say that it wasn't just any farm. It was hundreds of pristine acres in the valley of the NW Georgia mountains. The view from the house- a reconstructed antique log cabin- held 300 degrees of mountain ridge: Pigeon Mountain to the east, and Lookout Mountain wrapped around to the west. The field in front led down to a beautiful man made pond with a perfectly scaled church and school house to represent a vista across the valley. They were props, but they were perfect.

The farm had cows, but not just regular cows. Carl had longhorn cattle grazing the pasture. He said he liked the look of them, and when he started, he planned to grow a few for the annual county rodeo. He had a big red bull named Lucky, who "got lucky" with many of the cows across that valley. By the time Lucky passed, the herd had gone from white to almost pure red. I don't know that they have the annual rodeo in Walker County any more, but the farm still produces Longhorns.

Imagine walking down a path in the woods next to a stream. When you emerge, you see this little cabin across the field that was original to the property. This picturesque little gem was tucked in long ago at the end of the lower field, but was used at first as a weekend base for the Cofer family. The Buckhead lawyer and his wife and children spent every weekend for years in and about a one room cabin without plumbing or power.

Other buildings came along over time, including the house on the hill. Each addition - guest house, studio, office - was also made from old reclaimed log cabins, in keeping with the rest of the fiefdom.  There were hand split rail fences, hand painted signs, old fashioned whirlygigs on fence posts. 

As Carl had more time, he began more extensive projects around the farm. He heard, for example, that there were small abandoned churches in Nova Scotia . So he went up there, bought one, had it taken apart and shipped back to the farm where he resurrected it piece by piece. He and Susan placed it precisely where it would feel cherished and at home, and filled it with congregants again for all sorts of occasions. 

There was an area on the property that had strata of huge limestone pieces near the surface of the soil. Carl began to take his backhoe there to dig pieces up.

First monoliths, then stone sculptures of fish, dogs, whales, and men appeared around the farm.  

Then a labyrinth of smaller stones, meant to hold the attention of the walker while opening the door to spiritual centering  and greater creativity. 

Finally, a mini Stonehenge materialized at the bottom of the hill, equally in scale with the schoolhouse and little church.

I am sure there are a million other stories of projects and production. I am now happily savoring the times I got to tag along. We were there when they laid out the labyrinth and just after the new covered bridge opening. We did some painting at the barn on Hog Jowl road. We bumped over the fields and up the hills to see the new acreage. He took us to The Pocket in spring, and Rock Town in the fall. He marched us out to see the full moon at night, and to see the sun rise over Cofer knob in the morning.

By now you must have the picture. The man had vision. He had drive. He had a common sense perspective, and a sense of humor about it. He knew what he wanted, and he went after it. 

In the beautiful film by John Summerour (https://www.buildsxsemagazine.com/2016/08/saultopaul-documentary-film-john-henry-summerour/) titled Saultopaul, Carl said he liked having a quest.  Surely one of his most successful missions was to find the consummate mate. On his own road to Damascus, I think Susan was the bolt of light that changed the man.

And so in Saultopaul, one can see the fine details of their quest to embrace nature, history, art, and each other in a creative life. The land was his medium, and he was a master.
I believe that quest included the opportunity for both he and Susan to share their vision and home with lucky ones like me and my family. For that, we will all be forever grateful, and also changed.

I will remember "FDR....Pick your bird." Good advice, indeed, and a fitting epitaph. But I also found this quote from Robert E Lee. In remembering Carl, this seems to fit.  I don't think he would mind if I used this one, too.

“Shake off those gloomy feelings. Drive them away. Fix your mind and pleasures upon what is before you. All is bright if you will think it so. All is happy if you will make it so. Do not dream. It is too ideal, too imaginary. Dreaming by day, I mean. Live in the world you inhabit. Look upon things as they are. Take them as you find them. Make the best of them.

 Turn them to your advantage.”

― Robert E. Lee