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Back when I was young, when dinosaurs roamed the world and I was just about 3 feet high, it was an exciting world. The year 2000 was a magical date, somewhere in the distant future. Everyone would have a flying car, trains would glide over steel rails without touching them, and the moon, Mars and deep space would be crawling with tourists and explorers. I red the comics of Archie, de Man van Staal (Archie, The Man of Steel, a Dutch comic about a robot). And I was going to be an astronaut. Or a test pilot, if astronaut would prove to be to much of a challenge. |
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I was besotted with planes and rockets, and dad helped me building some paper models of the Boeing 747 and the X-15. Or more accurately, dad would build them while I was watching, literally sick with anticipation. When I was older (about 3 and a half foot or so), I started building my own models. Not just planes, but anything I would get or buy from my pocked money. Buiding a model was a race agains time, it would take only an hour or so to slam the kit together, and only about another half hour to get rid of all the parts I glued to myself instead of the model. By the time I reached 4 feet, I was 15, and build my last model; an Apollo 11 kit from revell in scale 1 in 48. And although this was my last kit, it was a first in many ways; for the first time, I bought a couple of bottles of paint, and for the first time I tried for realism. For the first time, I was really proud of the end result. This was not a self-build toy, it was a Model! I took pictures of the kit, and with some tinkering in the darkroom, I managed to come up with some nice, rather life-like pictures of the Apollo project in action. |
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And then I grew up, and real life kicked in. Worrying about grades and exams, military service, getting a job, not to mention more or less romantic encounters with the fair sex. Life became complicated.
Zooming trough time, writing the year 2001.
I am older then I ever imagined. I am over 5 feet tall, I have a job, a beard and a belly. I have been freezing my balls off in the arctic region, I ride a motor bike in summer and winter and I smoke pipes. To put things short, I am a Man. And in my hometown a new shop opened its doors. Model trains and kits. And all of a sudden I found myself with my nose pressed to a shop window once more, all of 14 years old again. Oh no, not a new hobby, I am pressed for time as it is! So I decided to do the clever thing. Buy just one model, buy all the paint, and start building it into perfection, with all the skills a former arts and craft teacher and former sculptor possesses. Most likely, I would start, and at some point, I would get frustrated and bored and chuck the model into a closet. As long as I kept the half build model in the closed, I would have a permanent reminder of why not to buy models. I am not the modelling kind guy, right?
Gentlemen �and the occasional Lady who wondered onto this page-, let me present to you:
�The Model That Would Never Be Finished�� |
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Damn! I did it. I finished the wretched thing. This �thing� is the U-47, a German world war II submarine, type VII B. This is a Revell kit, scale 1:125, with one side open to show the interior. |
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Since that interior was rather sparse, I started to ad some tubes, gauges, cables and whatnot from scratch. And after finishing the model I even started to weather the thing into a real rust bucked. Subtlety was never my strong point� (for some information on the U-47, click here).
The problem was I actually liked building this thing. It was just a nice way to spend an evening. I had been amazed at the dexterity of my sausage like fingers. I had lost my youthful impatience, I now just muddled along, taking my time and having a ball. I was not building to finish the kit, I was just enjoying the building itself. Zen and the art of modelling� |
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And there was worse; the Internet proved to be about the best thing a modeller has next to sliced bread and super glue. When I was young, I went to the library to find pictures and information on the models I was building. With a little luck I would find a paragraph in an encyclop�dia on my subject, and with more luck even a couple of pictures. Now, with help of Google and all those great contributors on the World Wide Web, I could find just about anything short of the captains shoe size. |
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A friend, who turned out to be a secret glue-boy himself, caused my final downfall. Not only did I now have a confederate to talk about models with, he even had a nice room, completely devoted to the construction of the wretched things. Now that�s the ticked! I spend a couple of great day�s at his place, with snow outside and a purring petroleum heater in the room, finishing my U-47. He pointed me in the direction of Hannants, a model builders wet dream post order shop in the U.K., and I was done for. |
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First things first. My friend had a nice room devoted to building models, I was still fumbling along on a piece of plywood in my living quarters. Working on models at his place was fun, trying to transport half build models to and fro on a motorbike was not. Something had to be done, and I decided to offer my newly finished study. |
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Tadaa! I added a small workspace in a corner, cleared some space in a cabinet, and I was on the road. I also realised that, with this workspace, it was likely I would end up with more then one model. So I decided to build a nice cabinet for displaying my models as well. |
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I added a couple of shelves, installed sliding glass doors and a light, and I was ready for the future. All I needed now was a plan, a theme, to prevent me from going crazy over what models to buy.
I had already decided I was going to build planes, and for planes, a wooden shelf is not the natural habitat. Planes belong in the air, or on an airfield. Since non moving planes tend to drop out of the air, I thought a nice airfield would add some live to the models to come. On a trip visiting plane museums in Germany, in spring 2002, I came across some old hangars on Flugwerkt Schlei?heim, near Munich. |
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These were nice old deserted, rusted metal hangers, called the Junkershallen, build between the wars. I used my short legs to get some overall measurements and took some pictures. Back home I started to build these hangers out of cardboard, between normal modelling sessions.
As said before, when I grew up, the world was an interesting place for a boy wanting to become an astronaut or a test pilot. Our house would occasionally tremble with sonic booms from Starfighters passing the sound barrier. My dad and brothers used my enthusiasm to train my calculating skills when I was in first grade elementary school.
�Janneman, how much is 5 times 7?�
�Ehhh, uhmmm��
�WIEIEIEIEIEIEIEOEOEOEOEOEAAAAAAAA(sound of a plane going down)� KLABOOM!"
�Come on, Janneman, pilots have to do their calculations fast!�
�Butbutbut� I knew it! Uhm ehhh, 35?�
Television offered just one channel, if the weather was good. News mainly travelled through newspapers, magazines and books. These media had a long shelf life, and on my search for information in the library I found new news and old news alongside each other. Stories about a possible Mach 2 passenger plane under development (the Concorde) was found in the same books as stories about the Bell X-1 and the Lockheed X-15. And that was the real right stuff! |
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Test pilots were Men, flying machines that were New! No computer simulations, no automated unmanned test flights, these guys climbed into planes no one really knew about. Would the engine run or just explode, would the wings stick or be ripped off? This was to be my theme. The planes that brought us into space; early jets and experimental planes; de ugly little Messerschmitt 163, the X-1, the Starfighter, the X-15� And some smaller steps, like the first jet fighters, conceived in a great hurry, during the last years of the war and thereafter, like the shark like Messerschmitt 262, the Gloster Meteor, and the Mig 15.
And so things started to take shape, one by one planes flew in and landed for the final gathering;
White Knuckle Airfield, Sittard� |
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