His Father’s Son

Learning large lessons from a small cabin

By C y nthi a a da ms • P hotogr a Phs By a my Fr eem an

“In my dad ’s mind, this cabin is a r ustic ref uge in the woods,” says Triad architect Michael Clapp. But he recalls how his father, L arr y Clapp, skeptical about Modern architecture, “was scared I’d drop a glass-clad box in the woods and say, ‘there’s your cabin.’” L arr y was adamant: “I don’t want huge walls of glass.” But in the end, Daddy got exactly what he’d hoped for. An organic place, blending into nature. Understated. Rugged. Handsome. With a simple, wooden and stone-accented exterior in an untouched, heavily-wooded plot on the family farm near W hitsett, the cabin is small — 745 square feet. But it looms large to both father and son as a legacy project that ended up connecting three generations, all the way back to Michael ’s grandfather and beyond. T he Clapps, af ter all, settled in this area in the 1700s f rom Pennsylvania.

Well before he began practicing architecture in 2007, Michael and his father, L arr y Clapp, owner of the ad agency Austen, Li & Clapp Inc., had been talk ing about building a cabin.

“Dad had been think ing about this for years, maybe decades. I would say we really got serious in 2012, 2013.”

Michael, whose conver ted barn residence was featured in O.Henry in March of 2019, heard his father’s request about walls of windows. But no architect wants a cabin to seem dark and depressing. T he challenge, of course, was accommodating natural lighting. “Light changes in the winter, when the leaves drop,” says Michael, who has a Bachelor’s in Architecture, summa cum laude, f rom the Universit y of Tennessee, K noxville, and a Master’s of Architecture f rom Har vard Graduate School of Design. T he building, he felt, must respond to the seasons, cool and dark in the heat of summer, and light and bright in the winter.

Af ter the cabin was strategically situated (more about that in a minute), the windows and glass were caref ully placed — without creating the stark glass cube L arr y Clapp feared. Initially, Michael said his father thought the windows were huge. But over time he realized they were correctly scaled to accommodate the roof ’s deep overhang and tree cover.

And so it was that father and son engaged in a process involving discussions, drawings, constr uction plans and, most of all, give-and-take. “It really was collaborative,” Michael says.

A gravel drive winds through the woods to the cabin that slowly emerges into view. A f ront porch of stone and timber creates a soaring entranceway. T hough small, the cabin is neither a k it house nor a log cabin. T he open concept with only one bedroom and bath is done so def tly that the size is misleading. “T he intention was to be ef ficient with space,” he says, “not so much to be small.” It has a cathedral-like expansiveness that pulls the eye straight through f rom the f ront door to the view beyond.

W hich brings us to another session of back-and-for th. A pond behind the cabin had been built 20 years earlier, where the family has long enjoyed kayak ing, swimming and fishing.

“T here’s a beautif ul stream that r uns nearby and feeds the pond,” Michael says. T he stream, the pond, the terrain — all needed to be taken into account when siting the cabin.

W hen it was time to sur vey the space before break ing ground, Michael studied the space intensely, think ing of the access and path beyond to the pond. He was pleased with what he saw — except for one lone beech tree that, to him, threw things of f.

His father said, no way. That tree has to stay.

“Over the years, my understanding has shif ted,” says Michael just a touch r uef ully. “I thought it [the cabin design] didn’t work if it was of f its a xis. But it was more successf ul if it accommodated nature.”

“It is a beautif ul beech tree,” he concedes. And the orientation of the cabin is fine: “T here’s no denying, when you are in this place, you are in nature.”

Standing outside on the shade-dappled porch at the back of the cabin, Michael excitedly points out the way the cabin is spatially sited on the forest floor, with an a xis r unning through the str ucture.

T he siting of the house, Michael explains, was always vital. T he sight line of what lay beyond the entr y of the house was as significant as the cabin itself. His father agrees that the cabin is secondar y to its surroundings: “It was always more of a vision of the surroundings than of an actual str ucture,” L arr y Clapp says. “It was a labor of love that slowly star ted shaping a vision of being one with the environment.” For years, he says, “I would spend ever y f ree moment in the middle of 25 heavily wooded acres, clearing underbr ush with nothing more than hand tools and a chain saw. It was an escape f rom the pace and stress of the adver tising world.”

His son honored that in his design. A ll impor tant, he says, is the a xis r unning all the way through the str ucture, and how the details, including the interior, flowed f rom that original intention. Trim details, for instance, like a beam and a steel lintel in the fireplace, were designed to reinforce that linear swath, ser ving like an arrow. T his directs the eye through the cabin toward an exterior path that L arr y had created that extends down to the pond beyond the cabin.

But does the average person notice these details? Michael gets this question a lot.

He explains that he envisions architecture as providing layers of meaning. W hether a visitor realizes it or not, they perceive design techniques that help define a space and absorb the space’s propor tions. And unconsciously, he says sof tly, they intuit “T his just feels right.”

Michae’s credentials are impressive — “Smee Busby Architects [K noxville] in ’07/ ’08, HGA Arhitektuur in Tallinn, Estonia, in 2008 while in school, then PNP Design Group in Greensboro, Duda/ Paine Architects in Durham bet ween undergrad and grad.” But what he learned work ing hand-and-glove with his father were lessons that weren’t taught at Tennessee or at Har vard. Again, that word: “it was collaborative.” T hen, “humbling.”

“Conversations were impor tant so my father didn’t feel I was taking the project and r unning with it,” he recalls. “I had to learn how to listen, and not just to words — but the emotions for the space, and his ambitions for it.” T heir conversations were f reighted with meaning. T he process provided Michael a valuable tool, a chance to learn the vital give-and-take of client relations.

Father and son communicated long distance af ter Michael lef t for Massachusetts. “I star ted producing the conceptual designs, then constr uction drawings in 2013 — moving into 2014. Constr uction star ted right when I lef t for grad school in October 2015. I was 31, older than many in my class. I was the old g uy at Har vard College,” Michael grins.

Calls flew back and for th bet ween W hitsett and Cambridge. L arr y sent Michael images as the build progressed.

Michael first visited the emerging cabin in 2015 at T hanksgiving — his first trip home f rom Cambridge in months. “It was so exciting to see it coming out of the ground.” “With ver y few adjustments we agreed on the plans for my cabin in the woods,” L arr y recalls. A ll impor tant, says Michael, was that “He had a clear vision of what he wanted it to be.”

Now, L arr y says, he’s quite pleased with his r ustic cabin, though he adds, “T he cabin is much more sophisticated than I ever imagined.” Still, “it fits into the surrounding environment seamlessly and provides the solitude I desire. It is ver y comfor table and vir tually maintenance f ree.”

Burlington builder Brian A lcorn was adamant about qualit y, L arr y says. “T he cabin was constr ucted by a superior craf tsman ver y rare these days.” T he place is still evolving six years on. L arr y continues to work on the interior and exterior. Standing in the late summer light filtering through the windows that are just the right size, Michael points out the finishes his father recently added to the cabinets and walls. “T he walls have a textured, faux-painting technique he felt was appropriate. T he railings for the lof t recently went in six months ago.”

T here is also a new rolling librar y ladder that accesses the lof t. Work on the outside fire pit has beg un, the footing already poured. A new cof fee/ beverage station has been created. More cabinetr y is under way. A barn door has been added on the f ront of the house, concealing a utilit y area.

Michael has come up w ith a name for the cabin: “My Father’s Son.” T hough it’s a tad bit eccentr ic, he is obv iously pleased w ith it and is quick to point out that the “Son” does NOT refer to him — or the “Father” necessar ily to L ar r y. W hen he named the cabin, Michael was think ing of his g randfather, Pa Paw, and how Michael ’s dad has developed the same sor t of gentle persona lit y his ow n dad possessed, w ith similar manner isms — which Michael va lues and emulates. T he cabin and its name have come to personif y for him the father/son relationship and how socia l sk ills and streng ths are passed f rom one generation to the next, just as he lear ned through this sma ll cabin enor mous lessons in the gentle ar t of communication and compromise.

“It’s hard not to be married to a point of view,” Michael says, standing outside where the new fire pit is emerging, reflecting on the spared beech tree that he has come to cherish. In the end, however, the little cabin his father now enjoys has become a metaphor for him about listening — and learning — and fatherly love. OH