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#1
10-12-2009, 09:07 PM
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Musings, meanderings, mentalisms...
I've been thinking a lot lately on just how much the paper modeling community interacts with itself... It is interesting to me that all of us, no matter where we are or on whichever forums we post, tend to share our builds, our skills, our talents, our opinions, and lavishly praise our fellow modelers... In short, we are more than just a hobby oriented community. We are a family.
I'd like to take a few minutes away from Design Study #8, this recent undertaking that has been occupying most of my time of late, and tell a little story... Names have been omitted to obscure the guilty, but the story itself is true. There once was a boy who had this fascination with really big models. As a teenager, he started out in plastic, and by his mid twenties, he moved on to resin, metal, and other solid media. About four or five years ago, he started building a ship he had learned about when he was attached to a naval training school as a liaison officer. It seems this ship was never built, but was intended to be. It was designed during a horrible war, as an intended foil to a similar enemy ship that was wreaking havoc on the high seas. Alas, this ship never made it off the drawing boards, the contract to build being canceled just a few weeks before the keels were to be laid. Originally it was intended to be a five ship class, but very late in the game a sixth ship was to be added, and some massive changes made to the ship. These changes are not well known, and only a select few in the halls of certain naval institutions ever heard of the addition to the class... Anyway, this boy was building his fantasy dream ship, from resin, plastic, metal, and other solid media. He belonged to a few modeling forums on the internet, but everyone on each of the forums was taciturn, secretive, and generally unfriendly... His progress was slow, because there were no really good modeling stores in his area, and most of his purchases had to be made from the Internet. Because of the uncooperative nature of the forums of which he was a member, not many individuals would share tips on where to find certain types of parts, or special materials with which this boy could build. He was mostly on his own. He despaired reading threads on some of these forums, where responses ranged from the derisive to the cruel with critiques of the few builds that were shared. It seemed as if most of these places were populated by those who enjoyed not only making others miserable, but in being miserable on their own... Then one day, this boy was offered a job in his profession. One that would take him away from the safety and sanctity of his home, and his build. There was a house for him to live in, but sadly, no room for his beloved ship, which had languished in neglect for some weeks. Nay, there was no way that this ship could even be brought into the house, because of its size, and the lack of space within which to maneuver the delicate model. The boy was sad, bereft of any pleasure, because he knew that he must divest himself of his materials and unfinished ship of dreams. With trembling hand, bated breath, and great reluctance, he advertised his precious ship, those materials he had remaining, and many parts that had yet to be assembled to this nine foot long creation. Immediately, the mean ogres of the forums on which he advertised the very expensive parts, materials, and sub-assemblies descended in cackling glee, browbeating the boy for his poor work, proclaiming the relative worthlessness in the marketplace for his supplies, denigrating the very sweat of his brow, and announcing for the world to see that he was only to be offered a miniscule pittance in exchange for possession. No one, it seemed, would be willing to part with their funds, at least not in public... The boy checked his private email one day, and found that many of the people who had picked over his offerings, who had ridiculed his workmanship, and who had disparagingly sneered they would not pay 1/20th of what his glorious ship and materials were worth, were sending him messages, offering nearly his entire asking. One such offered more, but stated that he was not willing to do so in public, lest it go against the community standard, and he become the object of disdain... The boy was in a dilemma... He had to divest himself of his prized possession, but he also felt honor-bound to protest the obvious dishonesty and deceit with which these poor wretched villains had attempted to bargain behind closed doors... Finally deciding that he needed to move on, he contracted with one of the ogres, the one who had least assaulted him, in fact, and transacted the exchange of his beloved creation. It was a sad day indeed for the boy, but also a happy one, for he was able to move onward, away from the oppressive forums whose denizens were eagerly awaiting their next subject of reproach. The boy, feeling the void in his life caused by a lack of creative outlet, was visiting the information superhighway one day, and saw a page that described a beautiful creation of a subject that had always fascinated him. It was a model of a flying machine! And, wonder of wonders, it was made from bits of paper! Imagine that! A model, created by hands of great skill, in a medium that was neither prohibitively expensive, nor difficult to obtain! Joy descended upon the boy, and his house rang with peals of happy laughter once again. Fearing that this new medium was beyond his meager skills, he started with but the most basic. Finding accomplishment, he began to undertake more complex and more difficult projects, until at last, one day, friends from another forum asked him to build a model for a very important meeting with advisors of the new leader of his homeland. This worried him, for powerful people were to see the results of his imagination and handiwork. Would he fail? Would he not live up to the expectations placed upon his shoulders? He could but do his best, and set to work creating from scratch, that which had never been built before by anyone. It was carefully stowed away in its packing container, and sent to a location within the very seat of government of his nation. Those friends took his model and showed it to the advisors of the new leader they represented, and they were amazed. The friends were pleased as well, and were asked if the model could be left at the agency at which this meeting was being held, for display in its library. Happily, the model was eventually esconced in an exceptionally visible location in the agency headquarters, so that all of those who worked at the seat of leadership of this organization who travel the outer reaches of the heavens could see it and marvel. Some weeks later, another meeting, this time a presentation at a conference attended by peoples from all over the world, caused the friends to ask this boy if he would build another model, this one twice the size of the first, for display at the presentation they were making at this meeting. With reluctance, he agreed, and produced a second version, updated in its details, and sent it along its way to this conference in a state by the sea, where these contrivances actually ascended into the heavens. It was well recieved, in fact gaining more attention from those who participated in the conference, than the models professionally procured by the agency whose responsibility it was to put people and machines into the heavens. Finding that he enjoyed this new medium, he had steadily participated in, and gained acceptance in this new community of modelers. Those persons who worked in cellulose sheets, were FRIENDLY! They were welcoming, and offered of themselves advice, the benefit of their vast experience and talents, and most of all, praise for effort! Joy! Hallelujia! Feeling humbled and awed at this newfound home, the boy decided it was time he took it upon himself to give back to the community, to contribute what he could to those who had helped, praised, welcomed, and included him in this bright, sunny, warm place, a place that was much different from the old, dark, dank, and fearsome forums where he had languished in fear... So, he offered up his original models, and created the designs for a new thing that had not been much in evidence. And finally, he decided to create something that would stretch his mind, expand his skills, and be a contribution back to the community that had given him more than he felt he deserved. And so, the boy, happy that he had found a new home, basked in the glory of this newfound haven, and lived happily ever after. Except for the occasional cut from his X-acto, and a small accident with his glue... Not the end... 
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#6
10-13-2009, 09:55 AM
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Through all my online wanderings I became familiar with several "paper" forums and let me tell you that we are very fortunate here to have this community.
Sadly, on most other forums friendlines and camaraderie are not the norm, and sometimes even civility is difficult to come by....
__________________
Constructive criticism of my builds is welcome - if I messed up and allowed others to see it, I certainly deserve it  Michael Krol
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#7
10-13-2009, 10:11 AM
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As the Pirate Laureate of Florida, Jimmy Buffett, says in one of his songs,
"I'm growing older, but not up, my metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck. Let the winds of time blow over my head, I'd rather die while I'm living, than live while I'm dead." Wyvern
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