If you’ve read any of my previous posts it should be clear that my musings are often triggered by podcasts. This one is no exception.
Sadly, the nature of the internet means one has to preface any commentary with various caveats, if only to assuage my anxiety that (despite choosing words rather carefully) I’ll be misunderstood. So please take it as read that this is all meant in the friendliest of possible terms and written with a great deal of affection and gratitude for all the podcasts and the amount of effort they put into generating content which, after all, is free.
I was listening to the Plastic Posse Podcast’s latest episode (#73) and their second conversation topic caught my interest: Modelling Outside Your Comfort Zone. If I have a slight grumble about many (but not all!) podcast discussions, it’s that they tend to be too consensual. Given the podcasts are usually hosted by friends, this is completely understandable, but as a natural contrarian I do like a good argument, and so I want to stick my oar in with a minority dissenting opinion on the grounds it’s always nice to hear an unexpected disagreement rather than a predictable confirmation.
The main point of near-universal agreement was that modelling outside your comfort zone is a good thing, but this was couched pretty much exclusively in terms of subject, genre and scale. And the upshot was you absolutely should not limit yourself in these terms. But since I do arbitrarily limit myself in all three of these terms, and do so with joy, I’ve taken it upon myself to articulate the benefits (for me) of these voluntary limitations.
Now, there is some ambiguity in what the PPP were actually discussing. The various questions could be listed as: ‘Does modelling in a different genre kill your mojo?’ ‘Should you limit what you build?’ and ‘Should you build across scales or genres?’ These are related but quite distinct questions. And then there’s the matter of how they relate to a ‘comfort zone’ and what that might even be. I realise, therefore, that these meandering thoughts are not a precise response to what was quite a free-flowing and wide-ranging discussion.
If you’re reading this, you are probably already aware of my approach to what I choose to model, in the same way everyone knows what Chris Becker is about, and thus I risk flogging my dead horse, but I’m going to do it anyway. For clarity, since 1994 I’ve only bought and made 1/48 models of post-WWII military aircraft, and only ever one of each subject. And if that’s not bad enough, I only make one project at a time. Everything else is, arbitrarily, off limits to me.
I think that had I been participating in the PPP’s discussion, this would have seemed a rather bonkers position to hold. I really want to make a model of a Grumman F11F Tiger, but one doesn’t exist in 1/48 (well, not one I’d want to build, anyway). So why don’t I make it in 1/72? I really like the B-52, and would love to have that in my collection, but 1/48 is too big, so why not make in 1/144? And I’d really like a Bristol Beaufort as well, but that was a WWII aircraft, so why limit myself? And what about dioramas, and all the cars I like, and the Gundams which seem so interesting, and the endless figure-painting YouTube videos I watch – what about all these subjects I’ll never get to model? And then there’s model trains…
I love all things miniature and I’ve cut myself off from the vast majority of them. Why?
Because life is finite, I am finite, and my time and resources are finite. I cannot have everything everywhere all at once. And so I make choices. I’ve made choices before which have been extremely limiting and have worked out pretty well. I chose my wife (and she chose me!) and that’s been exclusively exclusive. We chose to have kids, and nothing has limited me like having kids. I’ve made radical changes in career direction which have, on the face of it, trashed what I’d invested in: there are not many front line police officers who have a PhD and speak Chinese. I regret none of these limitations of choice and what they have cut me off from.
I’m also a great believer in what I like being somewhat under my control. Not entirely, of course; ultimately there is no accounting for taste. But my distaste for classic music is a problem that lies with me, not the music; I just haven’t bothered to learn about it, to appreciate it. And I didn’t like my first beer, but I certainly liked the last. I don’t drink coffee – never have, never will – but I have no doubt that if I set my mouth to it, I could learn to love it. I mean, *really* love it. As per my last post on Inspiration, I’ve learned to like aircraft I’m not interested in at all, and the emotion tends to follow the choice. I’ve learned, in these areas if not many others, to be content to flourish where I’m planted, and not hanker after what lies elsewhere.
So what are the benefits? Well, primarily for me is the restraint it imposes on my tendency to excess. My collection currently spans 353 models, 190 of which remain unbuilt. This is already a significant investment of time and money, but who knows what ridiculous heights my hobby-obsession could have attained were I promiscuous with subject, genre and scale? Some might say that’s a matter of self-control, but then that’s what this entire post is about…
I’ve been forced to focus, and I like that.
It also takes the stress of decision making out of the equation. It seems strange to be writing ‘stress’ when I’m talking about a hobby, but it’s a perennial podcast and Facebook discussion topic, and I think you know what I mean. It’s like school uniform (or, for that matter, my work uniform). This might be a foreign concept to non-UK readers, but practically all schools in my country require all students to wear a uniform until they’re 16 (and sometimes beyond). There are many benefits to such a policy, but one of them is you simply don’t have to make the choice: ‘What shall I wear today?’ When I walk into a model shop, or browse online, the ‘Shall I buy this?’ question almost never comes to my mind. I’ve already bought every kit that fits into my collection – I’m just buying the new releases now.
I’ve been forced into simplicity, and I like that.
Limitation of choice also brings depth of knowledge. I know a lot about what I have given myself to, and very little about everything else. It follows I know very little about other genres, World War I or 2, 1/72, 1/35 or 1/144. But I do know about 1/48 post-war military aircraft: show me any 1/48 jet kit and I’ll tell you if it’s any good, what’s right about it and what’s wrong about, who’s reboxed it and how much it’s worth. I know a lot about a little.
I’ve been forced to dive deep, and I like that.
And then there’s the fact I’m building a collection, but that’s not really relevant to this topic, so I’ll move on…
But what about this comfort zone? Because I do believe in transgressing that, I do believe in stretching myself, I do believe in trying new things. In my case, that’s the unintended beauty of the choice I made in 1994. Had I limited myself to US Navy aircraft or US military aircraft (which were real options for me, only displaced by the arrival of Airfix’s first 1/48 Buccaneer – an irony which anyone who’s built that kit should appreciate) then my choice would never have endured, for the boundaries would have been too tight. As it turns out, the choice I did make allows for all the variation I’ve needed thus far. I get to model WW2 designs and stealth fighters. I get to paint glossy red and white trainers and seriously mucky props. I’ve had endless experiments with natural metal (including three attempts with foil), had to rig biplanes, figure out aquatic weathering on things that float, make vacforms and resin kits, learn to scribe, and so on. There’s always something to push, something new to do. I decided whilst listening to the PPP that next year I’m going to brush paint an A-6 Intruder, just to push myself and apply some of the Warhammer figure painting videos I’ve been watching. Maybe one day I’ll scratchbuild, like my friend Nick Hooper. About the only thing I’ve excluded myself from is tracks, and I think I can live with that. The possibilities are not endless, but the horizon is sufficiently far away for my comfort zone to expand some distance yet.
This has ended up a lot longer than I intended, and I’ve probably said very little of interest. As I always end: I’m certainly not saying what you should do, merely advocating for what I do. And I am not you and you are not me, and that’s the way things not only should be, but are. *Should* you build outside your subject/genre/scale? Absolutely not. *Should* you build whatever you want to build? Absolutely, yes.
Back to home.
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