Real Atmosphere…

In recent weeks I've often found myself drawn to my burgeoning collection of old MRJs. I rarely actually read them cover to cover, but I enjoy the tone and sense of vigorous enthusiasm. The words within have a real buzz, and excitement for a growing, and increasingly "cool", professional approach to modelling (even if it was all-to-often tied up with an almost cult-like obsession with P4) 

It feels like a stark contrast to the more downbeat mood (perhaps linked to the growing volume of obituaries!) and impersonal content that we've grown used to from the modelling press. I suppose a longing for a fresh approach was what I was so keen for James to launch Layout Club, but that's enough pontificating for one post.

It was whilst flicking through one such tome that I came across a picture which stirred the modelling spirits in a perhaps surprising way. An image from the lesser spotted "Real Atmosphere" feature - the specimen in question, a humble coal merchant's office, complete with tumbledown garage. What's more, this small hut possessed one of my greatest weaknesses - prominent, messy signwriting! I was charmed, but also felt compelled to act by the caption. It felt like a call to arms - an attack on the ubiquitous "plastic identikits". I couldn't help take it as a challenge.

Dimensions, colour, location, and much more was left to the imagination. I'm sure someone out there could answer most of these questions. However, I strode on, unashamedly ignorant. After all, I'm not modelling Market Drayton - in theory, I'm making a semi-fictionalised version of a Suffolk light railway, but even that has little bearing on the random assortment of bits that have been crossing the workbench of late. So, I made a rough guess and got stuck in. 

One of my aims for this project was to be as neat as possible. My usual approach to scratch-building could be most flatteringly described as "haphazard"; it's a damn good job people don't get to see what goes on within the walls! This is all well and good when modelling rustic barns, but has been a bit frustrating as of late, as I find myself playing increasingly against my strengths, trying to build things with a more industrial feel and (heaven forbid) straight, right angled walls. With that in mind, I checked and re-checked every guestimation, measurement, and cut, with almost military rigour. I hope that care shows through in the finished product. Unfortunately, I ran out of patience once I got to the interior - this is rudely braced with some balsa strips - perhaps something I should revisit.

The garage was another labour of love. The woodwork was carefully pieced together from strips of paper, atop a basic styrene shell. This was slow going, but relaxing work, and it is rewarded by a convincingly rough texture. The colouring is somewhat impressionist, drawing its inspiration from the fencing I did for Rye Sands. It looks crude up close, but the vague edges depth to the planking when viewed from a distance.  

The signwriting is another area I ought to revisit. The name is accurate to the inspiration, but feels like a missed opportunity to what is otherwise a straight reproduction my own. Perhaps it too should change, as the building is lifted from leafy Shropshire and catapulted onto the windswept Suffolk coast. 

This has been one of my favourite projects for some time, and I hope that affection shows. It unlikely that this little scene will be complete for some time. It won't really be complete until the assorted telegraph poles, detritus, and coal heaps are added, but it feels like a step in the right direction - another statement of my intent to build this Rice-esque Eastern outpost, however long it takes.