As a modeller, there will be times when you get stuck at a certain stage in your project because you’re not quite happy with something. You’re faced with a choice of either proceeding and hoping it will turn out okay, or waiting. I favour waiting, for the simple reason that letting something marinate in your head for a while can often yield a better solution.
Here’s an example. I’m currently adding propellers to a 1:600 scale B-29 bomber. The props in this scale need to be 8mm in diameter. I’ll be showing the bomber in flight, so I need transparent or translucent disks to mimic the look of spinning props. The material also has to be very thin.
After looking at various options, I finally came across some clear rubber bumper pads at the hardware store. The pads are the right diameter, but are too thick and have a convex surface. I tried sanding them down by hand, but the rubber didn’t sand well and left tiny strands protruding from the surface.
At this point, I could have used the bumper pads ‘as is’ and lived with the fact that they’re too thick and have a convex surface. But I decided to wait instead. This isn’t to say I put everything away. I left the B-29 on the work table so I wouldn’t forget about it.
Every time I walked by and looked at the B-29, I’d mull over the problem. After a few days, I came up with the idea of using my drill. I already had a fine grit sanding bit so I gave it a shot. Voilà! No more rubber strands. The high speed of the drill bit made all the difference, producing a smooth, flat surface and reducing the overall thickness of the parts.
The B-29 project can now move forward, complete with realistic looking props. Moral of the story: don’t rush, because in a few days you may come up with a better idea.
If you like to build dioramas and want to learn more about how to optimize the visual impact of your work, you might like my book, Diorama Design. It’s available in both ebook and print formats at Amazon.
The Royal Canadian Air Force’s CH-149 Cormorant can operate in the most severe weather conditions, making it ideal as a search and rescue helicopter. The Cormorant’s striking yellow and red paint scheme cuts a sharp contrast against the wintery white background of this scene—a welcome sight for this pilot who had to bail out a long way from home.
The Italeri kit was outfitted with a scratchbuilt winch, extra interior/exterior detailing, and aftermarket decals. To give the illusion of spinning rotor blades, I replaced the kit-supplied blades with clear acrylic disks cut to shape.
Dioramas which show aircraft in flight usually prop up the model with an all too visible rod, which detracts from the realism of the scene. Here, the support rod is concealed in the cargo ramp.
The cliff was sculpted from a single piece of blue insulation foam using a hot knife. The parachute is an acrylic half sphere which was melted to a natural wind-blown shape in the kitchen oven.
With a perfectly proportioned design combining power and grace, the de Havilland Mosquito excelled in a variety of roles. Its light birch and balsa construction made it so fast, it was virtually immune to interception. The Mosquito spearheaded many daring missions during WWII.
I spent considerable time mixing paints to get the right shade of PRU blue for this late model reconnaissance Mosquito. Even more work went into filling and sanding to bring the Airfix kit up to standard.
The Avro Vulcan was a Cold War era bomber designed with nuclear strike capability in mind. Easily the most beautiful jet bomber of the 20th Century, this magnificent aircraft didn’t see action until its twilight days, dropping a conventional bomb load on an Argentinian airstrip in the 1982 Falklands War.
I added a scratch built drag chute and aftermarket decals to the Cyber Hobby Vulcan. Fibre optics light up the runway and fire station, and two diecast Phantoms round out the scene. You may be able to make out the tiny Herpa airport personnel if you look closely.