By Sean Sullivan

“The creative adult is the child who has survived.”

The source of that quote is hard to pin down, but many of us can likely call to mind someone it suits.

Natick’s Jason Cheeseman-Meyer might qualify.

Recall the story of the fictional Swiss Family Robinson, that 19th-century clan stranded on a deserted island when their ship is wrecked. The Robinsons built a home (and a life) out of the flotsam and jetsam of their doomed vessel, and whatever else they could glean from their ronment.

The family sought to salvage some semblance of civilization from their situation. They repurposed the ribs and rigging of their dashed ship, transplanting the components from sea to tree. The result, as the story goes, was an elevated refuge woven among the trunks and boughs.    

Disney capitalized on (and greatly embellished) the legend, building vast tree houses in its theme parks that visitors could explore for hours. The attractions featured many intricate levels and ornate rooms, all interconnected by a crisscrossing web of rope bridges. 

The Robinson’s story was one of resourcefulness, of seeking to build a home in the wilderness with what they had at hand. Like the Robinsons, Cheeseman-Meyer and his family built a haven among the trees from a salvaged boat.

But the Natick family’s aim was the opposite. They built their fort among the fauna not as an oasis of civilization on some deserted island, but as a sanctuary of simplicity amidst the trappings of suburbia.

Jason Cheeseman-Meyer is an artist, and such a shelter can be conducive to creativity. He has been teaching at Natick’s Walnut Hill School for the Arts for nearly 6 years, currently as an adjunct professor. 

His art can be found in unlikely places around town – adorning the bricked façade along Adams Street, for example. That piece depicts a fish-out-of-water theme, a recurring subject in Cheeseman-Meyer’s art.

To any sharp set of eyes passing on Oak Street below, his boat sanctuary would likely seem a restoration project. That assumption wouldn’t be too far off the mark.          

The wooden vessel was among the “kit boats” popular during the middle of last century. They would arrive via mail order, and require assembly by would-be lake and seafarers. Owing to that and the wooden boat’s age, Cheeseman-Meyer’s new aquatic acquisition was in need of some TLC.

He acquired it for free from an acquaintance, someone who had given up trying to restore the boat to some semblance of its former water-worthy self. Too expensive an enterprise, Cheeseman-Meyer had been told.

Yet for the Natick artist’s purposes, the wizened wooden craft served just fine. He ran the idea by his wife, happy to find that she did not torpedo the plan out of hand.

“I come up with crazy ideas like this on a weekly basis,” he said. “So, I was amazed she said yes to this.”

Cheeseman-Meyer soon fastened some lumber between tall trees on the slope behind his house, and with some helping hands and a block and tackle hoisted the boat to its current resting place below the branches.

In the heat of summer, a high and dense canopy of trees saturates the boat in shade. The ample greenery on three sides also acts as somewhat of a sanctuary from the sounds of civilization, most notably the humming of motorists below. The artist says the area is ten degrees cooler than any spot around.

Those conditions also bring biting bugs, hence a can of insect repellent located in the boat’s stern section. That’s where a wooden ladder leads up from the steep hill that the Cheeseman-Meyer family might consider their backyard. Their home sits high atop that hill, overlooking Oak Street below.

The family’s “tree boat,” as the artist calls it, was a pandemic project – built during the shutdowns a few years ago. When most everyone was in the same boat of Covid closures and restrictions, the family’s tree-borne vessel served as an engaging outdoor gathering space for family and friends.   

“I’ve been meaning to build a tree house for the kids for ages,” said the artist. Though the craft’s stern is a just a few ladder rungs from the ground, sitting inside imparts an authentic tree-fort experience. The level boat’s bow overlooks the hill’s downward slope, giving forward-looking occupants the impression of sailing through the high trees. 

A waterproof tarp serves as a shelter, draped over a stretch of lumber fastened between trees lengthwise of and above the boat. It slants down past the vessel’s edges, acting as an overhang against the weather.  

The artist uses the boat now and then as a fort of solitude when sketching or working on other art projects. Cheeseman-Meyer’s full-time creative workspace sits behind a high window in the family’s house, offering a view through lofty branches and of the boat far below.

That home studio is the quintessential artist’s space, crowded wall-to-with easels, art supplies, and many canvasses in various stages of progress. Cheeseman-Meyer is currently at the helm of several works of art, the pieces patiently awaiting his return to the teeming studio.   

“I’ve got a couple of paintings going,” said the artist. “Happy to be at the easel with them.”