About 15 years ago, Carl Johnson worked in commercial high-rise construction.
He was the guy who navigated beams 20 stories high with the grace of a circus acrobat.
A carpenter by trade, he built steel forms that would eventually be filled with concrete.
It wasn't that he didn't like the work.
He was good at it; it paid well, and he was "totally unafraid" of teetering in high, white-knuckle sorts of places without a net below.
"It's just that there weren't a whole lot of high-rise buildings going up in Pensacola where I was living at the time," he recalls.
A weekend trip to Tampa changed his life: He fell in love with the "energy" of the city and never looked back.
Now, from a simple storefront on Henderson Boulevard - once an electric razor repair shop - he's finally living out his dream.
Much closer to the earth.
Now Johnson builds elaborate mosaics from concrete pavers, those brick look-a-likes that line patios, walkways, pool areas, walls and driveways.
He slices the colored pavers so thinly, and reassembles them so seamlessly, that people think they are looking at painted designs.
"I get people who stand on them who swear they're painted on," he says.
The works are elaborate: Michelangelo's Creation of Adam from the Sistine Chapel ceiling, an equestrienne in mid-stride, a sexy mermaid with flowing red hair, as well as a plethora of the usual tropical fare, including egrets, pelicans, dolphins and seahorses.
He can make you a Tampa Bay Lightning bolt.
Or your initials.
He even created a replica of that ubiquitous tourist "pirate ship" for the company's owner.
A 6--by-8-foot Creation of Adam will cost you about $14,000.
A smaller, three-paned Egret about $800.
It all depends on the complexity of the lines and colors, the intricacy of the cut.
"I'm the only person in the southeastern United States who can cut to this extreme," says Johnson, who spends anywhere from 10 days to a month-and-a-half on a work.
He also has tools precise enough to cut out an image as intricate as a face, hand or bird's wing. He invented the necessary tool by figuring out a way to slow down the motor on a diamond-blade band saw.
Johnson, 46, who has a background in carpentry, electrical work and plumbing, knows his way around tools.
His artistry has been a lifelong passion. (He's a competitive sand sculptor on the side.) He just needed to find a way to make money at it.
"I've always been an artist," he says. "The good Lord blessed me with a talent to put pen to paper and do anything."
For a while he refurbished antique furniture and baby grand pianos. Later he created garden sculptures.
But the brick-paver business has allowed him the freedom to create.
He hung out a shingle in 2001 at another location in South Tampa before moving to the store at 3635 Henderson Blvd. three months ago.
His wife, Lisa, works as office manager.
They have a 14-year-old son, Max, and a little house on a corner lot near Leto High School in North Tampa.
He makes his real living installing elegant, unadorned pavers that cover entire circular drives or dramatic waterfront pool decks.
But some customers see the artist in him and want more.
His creations are numbered and can be shipped anywhere in the country and assembled on site. If a brick chips on, say, the mermaid's tail, a customer can simply look at the pattern on a CD and order by number from Johnson.
"I just made this whole thing up on my own," he says. ". . . And the best part is, I can crate it up and ship it anywhere on the planet."
He's hoping the next place he ships a work will be relatively close, as in Orlando.
