Sausage gravy and the slow demise of craftsmanship

Editor's Note: After you read this article, be sure to read my follow-up, Reconsidering cheating.

Having grown up in the South one of my favorite breakfasts is sausage gravy over biscuits. After I graduated and left home I enjoyed frequenting a little mom & pop restaurant when I was home on vacation, always ordering the gravy and biscuits. It wasn’t the best I’d ever had, but I liked the idea of getting home cooked food over the mass produced stuff served in chain restaurants. You can imagine my dismay when I peeked into the kitchen during one visit and saw the crew opening a can of pre-made sausage gravy. I never went back to the restaurant again. They were cheating, taking short cuts to satisfy their customers. (On hindsight that probably explains why I could eat breakfast there for around five dollars.)

Two weeks ago there was a brief but lively debate on the WingNut Wings Fans Facebook group when one of its members posted a link to LF Models’ new prefabricated wooden propellers. Several of us expressed our view that using these prop constituted something akin to cheating. One member said, "This is modeling equivalent of turning in homework that you didn't do yourself." He's right.

LF Model's propeller for the Albatros D.I-V, Fokker Dr.I and D.VII, Pfalz D.III, and Roland D.V and C.II.

To be sure, the propellers looks amazing, and why shouldn’t they? They appear to have been manufactured exactly like the real thing, with laminated layers of multi-color woods, shaped, and polished, complete with an aluminum hub. The “modeler” will spend more time removing the prop from the packaging than he will attaching it to the model.

As you might imagine more than a few modelers in the Facebook group will buy LF’s props, and predictably they defended their right to do so. I don’t begrudge them the desire to create a better representation of an Albatros D.III or Fokker D.VII, but I do believe that using these props removes a good bit of craftsmanship that forms the basis of scale modeling. Using these props is cheating. Period.

“Cheating?” said another member. "If this is cheating then so is using Eduard photoetch, Yahu instrument panels, and resin replacement parts.” And he’s absolutely right. When you use those products, you introduce elements into the model that aren’t the product of your mind and hands, and the your model then only partially reflects your skill as a modeler. You’re another one, two, three steps further removed from being an "artist" (not that modeling is art). Yes, there is a degree of skill required to properly clean up, assemble, attach, and paint photoetch or resin, but not nearly as much as creating those components yourself using plastic, metal, and other media. One of the modelers that inspired me early on, Bob Steinbrunn, used very little, if any, aftermarket and produced amazing representations of aircraft in scale. He, my friends, is a true craftsman.

Some of you reading this will take my argument to an extreme, setting up a straw man by suggesting that modelers should create their own paint and glue. Or scratchbuilding models completely, eschewing kits entirely. That might be true, but I’d make a distinction between products used to construct and paint a model and products used to replace or add components of a model.

Here’s the deal. If you use wooden props, photoetch, resin cockpits, and so on, it's okay. There are valid reasons for doing so, but admit that you’re cheating. It’s okay to take shortcuts to create the models that you want to display in your display case, but realize that a bit of your craftsmanship is lost in the process.

I’m a cheater myself. Look at the photo below, which shows a small selection of the canopy masks, resin, and gun barrels in my stash. I could mask canopies on my own (as I am for an ESCI 1/72 AV-8A Harrier), but Eduard’s and Peewit’s products make the painting process faster and the results more predictable, and that is important to me. And maybe those wooden props are important to you.

We're cheaters.

You can learn more about the LF Models wooden propellers here.

Fighting sameness

There was this short but interesting thread on Missing Links recently that addressed the question of copying someone else’s work. The OP saw a number of dioramas on eBay that closely resembled dioramas that have been created by scale modelers, and pointed them out to the readers of ML.

I often come across photos and WIPs online of subject matter that I’d like to do, and sometimes those models are built and painted almost exactly as I would like to. Same scale, same markings, same weathering, etc. I usually feel a bit deflated on seeing someone else build “my” model, and then I struggle a bit with the decision to proceed with my vision of the model as I had originally planned. I don’t mind building the same model as someone else, but I really don’t want to copy one per se.

A couple of the people who responded to the Missing Links discussion rightly pointed out that many of the old masters in the art world copied each others’ work. Cliff Resinsaw said that copying others’ work — and I would suggest, copying their techniques — is  part of the learning process, but I fear that too many scale modelers are building models using the same products and techniques over and over again, and this has led to the pervasiveness of what is often referred to as the “Spanish style” of painting and weathering models.

Frank Michaels summarized my thoughts perfectly in his response on the ML tread. “A truly individual style is a thing of the past. I collect magazines and modeling books. If you removed the builders name, you could never tell who built it.” He’s right. With all of the out-of-the-box paint sets and weathering sets there’s a sameness that has set into the hobby. It started in the armor world, and now it’s making its way into aircraft and ships.

That sameness has existed in the car modeling world for many, many years. Car modelers have rarely weathered their models, and so it often seems that all of the models at any given NLL contest could have all been built by the same person.

I remember attending the IPMS Nats and other contests 15 or 20 years ago and seeing models that varied greatly in their styles. I could look at a T-34 and know it was build by Ken Guntin. Or a Sherman and immediately realize that Dave Lockhart was in attendance. That’s not the case anymore. Most of the armor on contest tables look the same. We've lost something along the way.

I’ll be the first to admit that these new products and techniques require a good deal of skill to use effectively. I used pigments, washes, and modulation on a JS-II and a T-34/76 recently and the results were, shall we say, lackluster at best, so I won’t criticize the adept use of those items. But when all of us are doing exactly the same thing, the hobby becomes less interesting. I’d like to see each of us follow our own path without feeling the need to rely on out-of-the-box solutions and to create models that fit a certain style or trend.

Is that possible? I think it is. David Parker’s Leopard is a good example of weathering restraint that allows his model to shine through the dust and dirt. I like Hakan Mamaoglu’s Tiran 5 because of his restraint. Ditto for David Coyne’s Tiger I.

Look for new media and explore new techniques, but don't forget to discover your own style. That is much more engaging than the alternative.

My favorite box art

There was a discussion over on ARC recently about the worst box art ever, and there were  nominations that really turned my stomach. The Academy 1/144 F-111 would be at the top of my list. Of course that got me thinking about my favorite box art.

For what it's worth (which is very little, I know), my favorite box art is for this boxing of the Heller F6F Hellcat.

I had a friend years ago who was an exceptional aviation artist. Sadly he lost his life before he would see professional success, but he told me about his approach to choosing a vantage point from which to draw aircraft. His intent was to capture an aircraft's character, which was the angle or attribute that makes a particular aircraft distinctive, different from all the others. You can imagine any number of examples. If you were to draw or paint an F-8 Crusader you'd probably want to show its unique wing. The F-16 looks its best when all buttoned up and sleek. The B-2 Spirit is all about its being nothing but wing. You get the idea.

It's with that mindset that I've enjoyed box art over the years, and that's why Heller's F6F has always remained at the front of my mind. It shows the Hellcat at its best angle. You can see its chunky fuselage, the sight gull wing design. The plane is weathered, has character. The pilot is even looking at you.

The F6F isn't anywhere near the top of my list of favorite airplanes, but I love this box art. What's your favorite?

Scale modeling is not art

A few days ago a friend shared a photo of a model on Facebook he thought was particularly well done (it was not my Gripen pictured below) with the comment, "Work of art!" I sent him a private message and told him not to use the word art, because scale modeling is not art. We had a brief exchange over whether scale modeling can be considered art, my friend taking the position that it is. It wasn't the first time this question has been debated, and it certainly won't be the last.

One of these is a great work of art, and the other is a plastic model.

I declare with as much finality as I can muster that, no, scale modeling is not art. Here's the conversation that I would likely have with the "Artist Wannabe" in our ranks.

SMS: What we do is not art.

AW: Of course it is! We use many of the same tools, media, and techniques.

SMS: Big deal. I used geometry, a saw, and sandpaper to fix the framing around a window in my house, but that doesn't make me a carpenter. Another example. I love to cook, and I'm very good at it. That does not make me a "chef." There's a big difference between my following a recipe to prepare a meal -- even when I improvise along the way -- and a trained chef who knows how to combine ingredients in new and unexpected ways. Calling myself a chef is an insult to the men and women who are.

AW: But we create things and make artistic decisions in the process.

SMS: We do create things, but we generally use parts and components that have already been created for us and follow a fairly strict process to bring them all together...using instructions, mind you! When we assemble the parts of a kit, there's only one "correct" way to do so, so there's negligible creativity in the output. If both you and I build a P-51, the results will pretty much look the same. Ask two artists to represent the feeling of love with paint and canvas and you'll likely get two very different paintings.

AW: Wait, I make artistic decisions. I decide what ordnance to use, how to paint my models, how to weather them.

SMS: Yes you do, but those decisions are constrained by norms about what is expected and even acceptable. That P-51 flown by Robin Olds can be painted only one way. Show too much creativity and scale modelers will dismiss your efforts as "fun" or "silly." Your decision to weather it -- often using off-the-shelf washes and pigments, by the way -- requires very little creativity on your part. The fact that there are so many articles and books that show us step-by-step how to achieve certain looks is evidence that many modelers are dismissing any desire to be creative in preference for proven techniques that are intended to achieve same result model after model after model.

AW: Wow, I never thought about it that way. Well what about modelers who scratchbuild models? Surely they're artists.

SMS: Nope. I'd consider them craftsmen or engineers. Like the kit builder, there's only one way to create a B-17, a Sherman, or the USS Kidd, even if you're scratchbuilding them.

AW: What about modelers who scratchbuild hypothetical vehicles or spacecraft? Are they artists?

SMS: Hmmm....maybe. Those guys are making some artistic decisions, so I'll give you that. But I'm uncomfortable saying they're artists because there's rarely any desire to convey emotion, feeling, or experience, which is often the desire in art.

AW: And the guys who sculpt figures?

SMS: I feel comfortable calling them artists. The difference between them and the majority of us is they're creating something out of nothing. That requires a great deal of creativity that we kit modelers don't use. When they bring original figures together in a vignette or diorama, there's great potential for creating something that anyone would describe as art.

AW: You make some good points, but I still like to consider what we do art.

SMS: Obviously you're free to do that, just as I'm free to call myself a chef. But do this the next time you meet a painter or sculptor; when he asks you what you do, tell him you're an artist, that you build scale models, and watch his reaction.

What say you? If you think I'm wrong, how would you argue all this plastic modeling stuff is art.

The best painting tip ever

Do you remember how as a child you used to draw pictures of landscapes? You probably represented the sky as a strip of blue at the top of the paper, because you knew the sky was over your head, like this.

A few years later, your brain matured and you began to see the sky as it actually exists in your world. It's not simply over your head, it extends down to the horizon as well, and your pictures started to look like this.

What happened? You began to draw what you see, not what you know is there.

I'm always amused when I hear people ask questions like these:

• What color grey is the interior of the F-16?
• What is the FS color used for inert AIM-9 Sidewinders?
• What paint should I use for tires?
• How do you paint a black aircraft?

My answer is almost always the same: Paint what you see, not what you know is there.

Too often we look for documented standards and out-of-the-bottle solutions for questions like these. In our search for accuracy we want a paint specifically called "tire black" or the FS number for those missiles.

Instead we should be using our observational skills to look -- really look -- at the tires of aircraft and ask ourselves, "What color do I see? I know it's rubber, but what color is it?" When you do that, you'll find yourself seeing tones of grey, possibly with bluish or reddish tones. You'll probably notice that the color isn't consistent across the entire tire. The part that makes contact with the ground may be lighter than the sidewalls. It may be dirty. The tire may even be stained from fluids dripping from the underside of the aircraft.

If you're looking at photos of an inert Sidewinder, what shade of blue is it? Dark, light, medium? It is a pure blue or faded? Look at the blue in that jar of Tamiya XF-8 on your workbench. Is it a close match? Oh, you say it's not? Would it be closer with a drop of two of white? Would the result be so far off from FS 35109 that your friends, rivet counters, and IPMS judges will laugh at you? Probably not.

Years ago I built this model, an Italeri 1/72 MiG-29. I knew I wanted it in West German markings and had the appropriate color references, but because I use Tamiya almost exclusively I couldn't simply buy the colors I needed. I had to mix them from scratch, using colors that were close but requiring some adjustment to get right. The result, I think, looks pretty good. One of the grey might not stand up to a paint chip of FS 36320, but when viewed in my display case or on a table at a contest, it looks convincing.

My suggestion is to become a student of color. Familiarize yourself with color theory and the color wheel associated with it. Study photographs closely. Look beyond what you intuitively know is there and study what actually exists in front of you. This will make you a better modeler, particularly when you don't have easy, off-the-shelf solutions.

Look at this stash

I recently stumbled upon this article on Buzzfeed, about the US Army's Museum Support Center at Fort Belvoir, Virginia. The center is the Army's repository for historical artifacts and more than 16,000 works of art reflecting military history.

What an incredibly interesting collection, though as the article says, most of us will not see it unless enough money can be raised to build a suitable museum.

Let's hope fundraising continues so that the artifacts and artwork can be enjoyed by the public. You can donate via the National Museum of the United States Army website.

So you think you're a good painter?

Bill Horan, a prominent figure painter in that corner of our hobby, is known for using paint to imply or suggest shapes on 54mm figures that aren’t actually there. For example, one of his books shows the bottom of a soldier’s boot and what appears to be a hole in the sole. You would think he used an X-Acto knife to actually scribe a hole, but when you read the nearby text you learn that it’s only paint; a small dark color represents the hole itself and a lighter color suggest the highlight of the edge of the hole. Horan and other figure painters use similar techniques to show, for example, the tiny highlight on the crest of a bronze button or to "paint" a crease on a uniform without actually sculpting it.

These are just a few examples of how scale modelers use trompe-l'œil techniques to imply shape and form no present on the actual model. I’ve always been amazed by an artist’s ability to fool the eye like this. Even when I know better, my eye still sees what it wants to see!

That’s why I was excited to see Keng-Lye’s work via Artist a Day on Facebook. (If you enjoy art, you should Like their Facebook page or visit their web site.) Every day they highlight an interesting new artist and his/her work. Keng-Lye takes trompe-l'œil to a level I’ve never seen, using not just paint, but multiple layers of clear resin, and three-dimensional objects to trick the eye into seeing three-dimensional fish and other sea life.

As a scale modeler, I sometimes think about how I can use trompe-l'œil techniques on models. It’s another way of thinking about a model not just as a replica but as a representation, one that reflects artistic skill as much as engineering skill.