Peter Forbes (3)

I only learned of Bill Coperthwaite last year, when a friend of mine spent a month at one of his yurts for a fellowship. I've been thinking about the program myself, and their first recommendation if you're considering applying is to read one of the books about his life, so I picked up this one.

I quickly came to realize that I have countless connections to Bill, to Dickenson's Reach, and to various aspects of his philosophy. I won't enumerate them, but it is one of those instances where it is a little bizarre that I've been able to get this far without hearing about him!

The first notable aspect of the book is that it has two authors—a couple who built a home on Bill's property. They alternate chapters in a surprisingly readable format. Apparently they intended the book initially to be about the process of building the yurt—which it is—but during the process of writing the book, Bill died, so it is also a book about Bill's life, and the tensions and paradoxes it embodied.

One of the core tensions about Bill is a cliché you'll recognize from the lives of numerous white men from the 20th century. On the one hand, he longed for community, and on the other, his unyielding principles often alienated those whom he most wanted to invite into his life.

Apparently Bill is responsible for much of the innovation in the construction of wooden yurts over the past 75 years. Buckminster Fuller is briefly mentioned in the book, and the comparison is worth examining. I read a recent biography of Bucky last year, and he was also a complex and sometimes hurtful man, also credited with popularizing an architectural innovation of the 20th century: the geodesic dome. In some ways, they're opposites: Bill built by hand with simple materials, and lived in isolation, while Bucky built with high-tech materials, and spent the second half of his life traveling non-stop. On the other hand, they both had a strong and deep connection with costal Maine, and they were both utopians, focused on architecture as a means for societal transformation. They also both had major blindspots, partially related to their privilege.

Reading this book has me reflecting on the ways that craft has shown up in my life—the year I spent as a pipe-organ mechanic, the time I built a timber-frame woodshed with my dad, the cedar sauna. Reading about Bill, I'm reminded both of my father's love of hand tools, and my grandfather's engineering mind, going to sleep with a math problem and waking up in the morning with the answer. I'm also reminded of my love of the Maine coast; the frigid waters, the crashing waves, the lichen-covered granite.

The book also has me reflecting on my relationship with solitude. When I was eighteen, I spent a year in communal living. Out of the ten of us living in a house together, I was the only one that wanted to spend time with others from 6:00am to 10:00pm—which I was able to do! Now, in my thirties, with children, animals, and elders to care for, I do long for stretches of solitude in nature. The vision fast is one tradition I've practiced over the years, but there's a hardness to the vision fast practice that means that you couldn't call it "restorative." Bill's lifestyle supplied solitude, but in a softer and more sustainable way.

I actually spent a lot of time researching the coast of Maine before my last vision fast, looking for a wilderness area where I could be held in the sound of the ocean. Ultimately, I gave up! At this point, the Maine Coast is so developed that any last remaining stretches of public conserved land either don't allow camping, or are immediately adjacent to massive military installations. I can see why Dickenson's Reach was cherished by Bill, and by so many others.

Similar to the authors of this book, I too am at a life stage saturated by the death processes of elders. How does engaging with death processes enrich community and culture? What does it mean to let someone go while continuing to honor their work? These are some of the questions I'm pondering.

In conclusion, this is a rich and multi-layered book—simultaneously about craft, about learning, about death, about community, and about place.… (meer)