CHAPTER 1
MODELS IN CONTEXT s I said in the Introduction, this book is not about how to build kits of model ships. This book is much more about taking those model ships, and putting them into context. By this I mean such ideas as: setting them in a realistic environment, be that sea, harbour or dockside, showing the relationships between different ships or boats, illustrating the various activities that may happen on or around ships, telling a story or suggesting an emotion.
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I’m sure all model makers put their work into a form of context all the time. If you think about it, every time a child picks up a toy aeroplane and runs with it, making buzzing noises, he is putting it into context. It is the same thing when he pushes a little tank along the carpet, saying, ‘Pow, pow, pow!’ and flicking the Airfix soldiers over. We do the same thing as adults. Admit it, how many times have you picked up a model ship and held it in front of your face, moving it in a sort of corkscrew fashion, as though it is pushing through a heavy ocean swell? I do it all the time, and you do too, don’t you? That feels better already, doesn’t it? Recognising your inner child. End of psychology lesson! Before I go any further, I should like to try and explain what I am meaning in this book when I talk about dioramas, because I am thinking in rather broader and less distinct terms than the people who define competition classes. These need precise and careful definitions so that similar models are judged against one another. The rules may include such matters as: comprising more that one model, being on other than a plain base, inclusion of figures that are not on the model itself, telling a story or illustrating a theme. I really could not care less about these rulebook classifications. For me it is all about doing something with, or to, a model to improve the sense of reality. Some of the models that I shall show you, if entered in a diorama class, might find themselves moved because a judge said, ‘That’s not a diorama, it’s only a single ship’. And, do you know what? I really couldn’t be bothered, one way or t’other; I build models to satisfy myself, not the judges. It is
the achievement of an apparent reality that is important to me. On the other hand, I used to have good natured arguments with a friend of mine who ran the competitions at the Scottish IPMS Nationals. I would place my models in the category for single ships, only to find them moved into that for ship dioramas. When pressed, Geoff would say, ‘It’s got crew figures on it. That makes it a diorama.’ I would then point out that using the same logic, every tank that had its commander’s head poking out of the turret ought also to be regarded as a diorama. As they say, the judge’s decision is final, and my models would usually stay in the diorama class, which would be smaller than the one for single ships, and the competition proportionately less intense. After all, winning a silver medal in a class of two means precisely nothing. The boxer who is knocked out by the first punch still comes second. I am speaking of this simply in order to illustrate the arbitrary nature of the definitions that are used to decide what a diorama is. In the course of this book, I shall be using the term very loosely. Please do not get hot under the collar about it. What I am going to try to show you is not how to win a competition, but how to have an artistic approach to your modelling, and impart an air of reality to your work. So, what sort of things ought we to be building? What should our creations consist of? I built dioramas as a child, during my AFV period. Like many of us, I am now embarrassed when I recall them, not so much because of the lack 9