The brick shipping structure associated with American Can was just too uniform in color. It needed “something”. First up I painted the window sills concrete which makes a much bigger difference than you’d expect.
Second, I decided to add a logo band across the top. Making your own decals can be a dicey process at best although this time it worked out fine. I did the art in MS word. I started with a piece of Microscale white trim film and coated it with Dullcote to give the surface some bite for the ink to dig into. When that dried I taped it to a piece of typing paper and printed it out on my HP inkjet printer. The ink was noticeably wet coming out of the printer so I let it dry for four or five hours. I then loaded some straight Microscale Liquid Decal film in the airbrush cup and gave the sheet several fairly thick passes. When that dried I doubled down and added two more coats of Dullcote.
All of this coating of the film did the trick as the decals then worked fine without any degradation. I applied the band as per the instructions using Micro Set. After an hour or so I used a soft cloth to gently seat the decal into the brickwork. After everything dried, I coated it with Dullcote. To tone down the white lettering I gave it a wash with my India Ink and alcohol mix. The black portion of the band was still a bit dark so I very, very lightly dry brushed some light gray across it to highlight the brickwork.
Tom Johnson’s freelanced HO scale layout is arguably one of the most visually striking railroads ever built. Freelancing can be a double edged sword offering the flexibility for exceptional artistic compositions, as Tom has done, but also posing the risk of slipping into caricature if you don’t handle it carefully.
The success of a layout, ultimately measured by the satisfaction we wring out of it, is usually determined before we even begin construction. I’ll take it a step further, it even starts before we begin drawing a track plan. It’s such a subtly complex topic because it may take years to ultimately know whether we hit the mark or not.
However, once we do know whether we “succeeded” ……or didn’t, the answer can ultimately be tied back to the earliest and most strategic of decisions. Those absolutely crucial decisions simply cannot be made if we don’t know the questions to ask ourselves in the first place. Therein lies the problem. We don’t ask the questions because we don’t know what they are. And, even if we did, without experience we might not be able to give an accurate answer to them. Without a number of layouts under our belt we don’t have the perspective to truly understand what works for us and what doesn’t. It gets even trickier when we factor in that our likes and preferences will change and evolve over time.
One of those crucial questions is, how much does the appearance of our layout matter to us. On one end of the spectrum would be an end result that hits the target of a well-executed work of art, and uses the well-established principles of the art world to get there. Principles such as composition, balance, and color theory. The other end of the spectrum would be a plywood pacific. Depending on your interests appearance may not matter. That’s o.k. In some cases it’s irrelevant, the diehard operator for example. I can’t tell you how many thoroughly enjoyable hours I’ve spent running trains on well thought out model railroads that didn’t have a grain of ballast on them or a tree to be seen. That takes care of one group, if you lean really hard to the operations end, I wouldn’t lose any sleep over the appearance issue.
For the rest of us some tougher questions loom. Particularly if you are a “prototype” modeler. First, you have to define what that means. “That” being prototype modeling. Do you want a model, a copy? Do you want to take a hard run at creating a dimensionally accurate replica of a segment of a transportation system that actually exists or existed? Or, is creating a model that meets the standard of well executed art important to you? Notice the use of the word “or”. Its taken me decades to realize this but the two, appearance and accuracy are, in fact, often mutually exclusive. A controversial opinion I realize. Being tied tightly to a prototype means you need to copy what is there. And, unfortunately, that often means giving up appearance in order to do so. Sure, you can have a well-executed, skillfully built, masterfully sceniced layout but that doesn’t mean it hits the top tier of visual execution, art. To meet that standard means you need to utilize the principles of design that have been the foundation of the art world for centuries….symmetry, balance, emphasis, unity/variety, etc. Being “handcuffed” to following a the framework of prototypical dimensions generally doesn’t allow you to do so.
Want an example? I’ll give you one that hits close to home, my Downtown Spur layout. It’s a copy of a transportation system. It’s a copy of a piece of the world that I find fascinating. However, rigidly sticking to following its urban grid of low lying one story warehouses, it’s uniformity, the lack of flexibility in terms of incorporating negative space, the lack of flexibility in placing vertical elements where they were needed leaves the viewer underwhelmed when they take it in. It leaves me underwhelmed when I take it in. Does that mean I don’t enjoy it, that I’m unhappy with it? Of course not. I’m just saying that by making the decision to be a “prototype modeler” I had to give something up in exchange. That something was a piece that didn’t meet the standard of really good art. Are there prototype exceptions out there that would allow you to hit that bar? Maybe. I’d say rarely though.
So, what’s a modeler to do if they are drawn to prototype modeling but want an artistic end result also…..to have their cake and to eat it to? Proto-freelancing. This is a middle ground where you give yourself the flexibility to deviate from the prototype where necessary to meet artistic goals but do so in a way that is still plausible. It’s maintaining plausibility that is so, so hard. Why? Because as soon as we leave “pure” prototype modeling we don’t have an exact guide to follow and it’s so easy to roll down that slippery slope and end up with that “model railroad” look, a caricature, a toy.
Those, however, that can develop master level skills in walking this tightrope ultimately end up with what I would consider to be the best layouts in history. Examples? Paul Dolkos, Tom Johnson, Mike Confalone, John Wright, and Bill Henderson. In many of these cases the builder relied heavily on prototype locations and prototype motive power to keep a stake in the ground that anchored the theme in the world of plausibility. It is exceptionally hard to pull off but Tom and Mike were able to come up with freelance motive power schemes that are utterly believable.
I followed this proto-freelance approach with my Los Angeles Junction railroad. Almost all of the structures I used exist on the protoype, just not in the positon they appear on the layout. I drew from subjects within a few miles of the Horn Lead which is the subject I chose. I allowed myself the flexibility to change structure dimensions, add negative space, viewing windows, and vertical elements, where the principles of art dictated it was necessary. The end result was rewarding from the standpoint that I was still able to capture the vibe of a railroad that was meaningful to me, while at the same time have something that I really, really enjoy looking at when it’s not running.
The takeaway of all this isn’t so much that it matters which approach you take. Rather it’s understanding yourself and what you truly want to accomplish. That part, the self-awareness piece, is often the hardest. Food for thought.
When the subject of urban modeling comes up it’s understandable that we all think of the bulk of the modeling effort is centered around structures. The reality, however, is that streets, alleys, and sidewalks take up as much, if not more time. They can be pretty time consuming to model effectively.
The paved areas around American Can took the better part of an afternoon to model. The sliver around the curved siding was particularly dicey.Sidewalks in Brooklyn are relatively wide at twelve feet. Modeling them full width improves realism and gives a sense of breathing room to the scene.Here’s a look at the concrete apron around the back truck loading dock.
Massive American Can factories seemed to be a staple of many larger cities and Brooklyn was no exception. The facility of of First Avenue still stands and has been renovated and converted into office space.
As with all of the structures on the Brooklyn Terminal, I’m striving more for plausibility than prototypical accuracy. The structure on the left is Walthers American Hardware Supply. The brick structure is kitbashed from DPM modular panels.The loading bays need to line up with a curved siding hence the angled face on the wall with the freight doors.I was at a loss as to how to handle the signage until a friend came to the rescue with a number of prototype photos showing a variety of formats. I had some left over quarter inch tall craft letters which I glued to .020″ wire and painted.
I finally got around to detailing and weathering the BT switcher, in this case a Model Power Mogul converted into a switcher by removing the pilot truck. I was curious what could be done in N scale with close up photography. So far, so good.
Switching National Linen Supply.
Crossing First Avenue.Modified and weathered Model Power Mogul.
