A lecture by Kim Adams

I've been focused on books for so long I'd forgotten about video, so I decided to search YouTube for Kim Adams videos. I had some great luck and I found this excellent new/old one. It was posted around 10 months ago, so it's relatively new, but it's of a lecture Adams gave in 2010, so it's relatively old too.

It's long, around an hour and forty minutes, but if you've got the stamina, Adams himself will tell you a lot about his inspirations and work. Believe it or not, like any decent modeller, there's a lot of prototype inspiration. If you want to jump ahead to more model railway-like pieces, fast forward to around the 59:50 mark.

Book Talk: Three for the Lawn

Kim Adams: Bruegel-Bosch Bus | Kim Adams: One for the Road | Kim Adams

I've written a lot about Kim Adams' work over the years, but I'm somewhat embarrassed to say that I've never gotten around to buying those three books shown above. Since I'm back to studying artists' use of miniatures, I figured this was a good time to have a look.

These three titles span many years, and as the years go on, the books get bigger in size. 

The rightmost is simply titled Kim Adams. It's an exhibition catalogue published by two galleries to accompany two shows of Kim Adams' work. One was at The Power Plant Contemporary Art Gallery in Toronto from 23 June to 3 September 2001, and the other was at Oakville Galleries at Centennial Square from 5 May to 12 August 2001.

The middle one is also an exhibition catalogue for another show of Kim Adams' work called Kim Adams: One for the Road. Although the book was published by Museum London, the show was held at three galleries: Museum London, October 20, 2013 to January 6, 2014; Art Gallery of Hamilton, February 8, 2014 to May 4, 2014; and Varley Art Gallery, September 13, 2014 to January 11, 2015.

The leftmost book, Kim Adams: Bruegel-Bosch Bus, was published by the Art Gallery of Hamilton in 2021 to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Adams' Bruegel-Bosch Bus that is on permanent display at the Art Gallery of Hamilton.

All three contain extensive photos of Adams' work, essays by art critics, and interviews with Adams.

I’ve never felt comfortable commenting on critical essays as I’m not well versed in the arts to say much of anything as to the essays’ insights and assertions. I read them though, and give them consideration as they’re usually interesting if they aren’t mired in insider jargon. However, it’s the photos and interviews that intrigue me the most. 

I have seen some of Adams’ work up-close-and-personal as they say, and have written a little about those encounters, but mostly what I’ve seen are photos of his work.There are lots of photos online, and you can get a good sense of many aspects of his work from them. I should note that the 2021 Bus book is the best collection of photos of the Bruegel-Bosch Bus I’ve come across. I’ve seen that work in person, and I’d say it defies photographic representation. Photos just don’t capture the experience of interacting with it; however, those in Bus come pretty darn close. The other two books have good collections of photos as pertain to the shows they are representing. In Kim Adams I particularly like the chapter of photos and texts rather cheekily called Kim Adams’ Vocabulary: Catalogue of Products and Instructions for Use by Tomas Pospiszyl. 

All three books cover all aspects of his art, although general coverage is a little thin in Bus, which focuses on the BBB. As far as I can tell his artistic creations fall into roughly 5 categories: Large 1:1 scale assemblages / ‘kitbashes’ (often referred to as ‘Street Remakes’), items that look like kitbashed plastic scale models, dioramas incorporating kitbashed pieces and model railroading items, large layout-like pieces, and drawings. Adams’ themes and interests flow and weave throughout all the categories, and they really can’t be considered in isolation from each other, but in this post I’m only going to focus on some aspects of his kitbashed plastic kit based work and his layout-like pieces.

As I mentioned, it’s the interviews that really grabbed my attention in these books. There are three, one in each: 

with Marc Mayer (held on 22 March 2001) in Kim Adams

with Robert Enright (held 23 October 2012) in Kim Adams: One for the Road

with Melissa Bennett (various times around 2020) in Kim Adams: Bruegel-Bosch Bus

One thing though that seems to be missing from these interviews, or is somewhat skirted over, are questions and discussion regarding early influences from model building and model railroading. Naturally, the conversations stay mainly in the art groove, but look, I’m a model maker, a kitbasher, and a model railroader, and chances are you are too if you’re reading this, so I find it quite interesting that my interests are being used in interesting ways in the art world :-) Adams is using unusual media for the art world, plastic model kits and model railway gear for his small scale pieces and giant layout-like things, but the, let's say the model building world influences, aren't discussed in interviews with the depth that the art world influences are. This isn't unusual given the backgrounds of the interviewers, but I think adding a little investigation into how the hobby and art worlds come together in Adams' work would help give us a little more insight into it.

There’s often a pattern in the lives of model builders and model railroaders. It goes something like this: as a child there’s a fascination with model making or model railroading, it lasts maybe until high school, sometimes through high school, but then life takes over with education, careers, and family, but then in middle-age the model building or model railroading bug strikes again and the activity is resumed with renewed vigour. This is a stereotype of course, but it’s more-or-less the trajectory of a lot of people, and I wonder if it applies here and might help unearth those early hobby influences in more detail.

So, ok, with this in mind, I tried to piece together some of Adams’ early life story from the disconnected pieces available in some interviews and online bios I could find. Before we dive in let me say I’m no expert, so if you see errors in what follows, please let me know.

Kim Adams was born on 17 December 1951in Edmonton, Alberta. His father was Alvin Clarence Adams and his mother was Harriett Maude Eliott. In World War II his father was an engineer, and his mother was an anti-aircraft gunner. There’s an interesting black-and-white photo in Bus dated 1953 with the caption: “Kim as a child with his brothers, and their father’s model train layout.” The photo shows very a small child, which I assume is Adams given the date, and three other considerably older boys, who I assume are his brothers. You can see the layout’s benchwork, which looks a little plywood-pacificiky at this stage, in what appears to be a room walled by cinder blocks, maybe it's a basement or garage. This is the first time I've heard of there being model railroading in his family life.

When I saw that photo so many questions popped into my mind. Was Adams’ father a long time model railroader, or was it just a dalliance? Were there model railroading magazines lying around the house? Did any of it have any influence on Adams’ interests later in life? I don’t know. 

Ok, so let’s continue the timeline. Adams mentions in the Bus interview that the family relocated to Australia when he was seven for his father’s job. So, let’s say that was sometime in 1959.

So, ok, we’re in 1959 and Adams is 7. In the Enright interview he asks Adams this:

“Enright: Were you a model builder or a model railroader as a kid?

Adams: I was always making models. I think the very first one was in Australia. I was seven and the PT 109 model was out. Everybody in the company my dad worked for got one and because he worked night shifts, he said he would help me in the morning when he got back from work. But I had already built it by the time he got home. That was it; he never volunteered again. But we did other things, like take motors out of cars and build houses.

Enright: So you very quickly moved beyond the PT 109 kit to make things on your own?

Adams: I think so. There was somebody in the area who was carving boats out of balsa wood and motorizing them, and I picked that up from him. Balsa wood was the first thing you could use to build from scratch. You can play with it quite a bit, too. Then later it was finding things, dragging them in, and banging them together. I don’t try to invent a train engine or something.”

Top: Lindberg's PT boat kit from 1959 | Bottom: Revell's 1963 release

I did some internet searching and found that Lindberg released an all plastic 1:64 scale model kit of a PT boat in 1959. It was a variation of a kit they first released in 1955. This kit didn’t have PT-109 emblazoned on the box top, but simply said Patrol Sea Raider, and earlier versions said P.T. Boat. Lindberg released the kit again in 1963 with a new box that said P.T.109. I suspect this was to coincide with the movie PT 109 that was released in June 1963. Also in 1963 Revell released a PT 109 kit, and I suspect it too was to get in on the movie release action. Is Adams misremembering dates? I don’t know, but, look, I can’t really remember things from when I was seven. Maybe the important thing is he clearly remembers the first kit he built, and that he was quite young when the model building bug hit, even though the kit’s brand and date might be elusive. In 1963 Adams would have been 11. 

I had a feeling of déjà vu when I read those passages from the Enright interview. I had a couple of old magazines that featured Adams interviews, so I dug them out to have a look. I turns out there’s also an Enright-Adams interview in the January 1999 issue of Border Crossings magazine. The interview was held in December 1998, 14 years prior to the one in One for the Road. Consider this segment from the 1998 interview:

“Enright (1998): Did you make models as a kid, or were you a junior railroader?

Adams (1998): Not a railroader but I definitely built models. I started in Australia. I got a little PT boat, I think it was Kennedy’s PT 109. My father was going to help me build it but he didn’t come home so I built it myself. My parents just kept throwing models at me after that. I took to the military ones for awhile and then borrowed my brother’s lighter fluid and burned them in the carrot patch and got in trouble. I didn’t have good guys or villains in mind. It was just basic killing.

Enright (1998): How did you end up in Australia?

Adams (1998): I was born in Edmonton but we went to Australia when I was a kid. My father was a policeman for awhile and then he was a streetcar driver. He had a buddy who moved to Australia and he just followed him out at some point. We lived in a tin shack for awhile. It was outside of Melbourne. Nunawading was probably the closest town, and then we were in an area called the Dandenong. Eventually dad built a house. I think I was about seven when we moved and we were there for five years. For a kid it was just adventure.”

Although not exactly the same, there are parts that are quite similar. In this one though Adams mentions his parents were providing lots of model kits, and he enjoyed building them.

Left: Border Crossings, January 1998 | Right: C, Summer 2001

I also dug up the Adams interview with Rafael Gomez-Motiana in the summer 2001 issue of C magazine. Here’s what Adams had to say about his early beginnings with plastic model kits:

"Gomez-Motiana: So all of your works are models, whether full-scale models, or miniature scale models. How did you actually get into miniature scale? Was it through constructing studies for your larger models?

Adams: My first memory of sniffing glue at a young age was when I built a model kit of President Kennedy’s boat [JDL: PT 109]. After that I was constantly building models. Especially cars. Model building was big. Then it disappeared. At the University of Victoria [JDL: Adams attended between 1975 and 1977] I got back into making model cars because it seemed to make more sense than learning abstract painting or something like that [JDL: !].

The first car piece I ever saw was by Joseph Beuys at the Guggenheim in the 1978-79 retrospective. He had a VW bus on the ramp, together with the survival sleds. And it just made so much sense right there in the gallery, which is basically a car park. Just think: Winnipeg, Regina, these prairie towns, they all have mini Guggenheims. I think that made quite an impact on me, just seeing a car in that high-art situation. I didn’t understand the survival part, I was just thinking, “Ooh, cars look alright in galleries, especially old, rust ones.””

Did Gomez-Motiana fall out of his chair laughing at the suggestion that the Guggenheim wasn’t much different from the parking lots of Winnipeg and Regina? We’ll never know :-) But what we do know, or at least is pretty clear from all the interviews, is that Adams believed himself to be a seriously devoted model builder as a kid, and he makes the statement that model building, especially car models, was a big thing in the 1960s, which it was, and yes, it did more-or-less collapse in the early 1970s. 

"But Barris, even as at ten, was wild about cars,
carving streamlined cars out of balsa wood."

The model car building and slot car craze of the 1960s and early 1970s was an offshoot of the larger custom car craze in the popular culture of the time. If you haven’t done so I’d recommend reading Tom Wolfe’s 1963 essay The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby to get a sense of the craze as only Tom Wolfe could capture. Although the essay was first published in the November 1963 issue of Esquire magazine under the title There Goes [Varoom! Varoom!] That Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby it was reprinted in the first collection of Wolfe’s essays in 1965 with the shorter title, which was also the title of the book.

A few issues of Car Model from the 1960s and 1970s.

There was lots of information about model car building circulating at the time in both books and magazines. Two of the biggest enthusiast magazines were Car Model (published out of New York), and Model Car Science (published out of Los Angeles).  Car Model magazine started up with a July/August 1962 issue and ran bi-monthly until September 1963 when it became a monthly, and published as a monthly until its last issue in July 1974. Model Car Science ran as a monthly right from the beginning in April 1963 until its last issue in July 1972. 

Some winners at the MPC/WKNR car model contest held 23-25 Jan 1970 in Detroit.
Stack of 4 photos on the far right feature George Barris examining some entries.
Car Model, August 1970.

Model car building magazines weren’t confined to the US. Other publications that either were devoted to model cars or covered them also started up in that late 1950s and early 1960s era and include titles such as Model Cars, Model Roads and Racing, and Airfix Magazine. Buying these magazines wasn’t limited to specialist hobby shops as many were readily obtainable in places like smoke shops, grocery stores, jug milk stores, and pharmacies. I won’t go into the vast range of books available at the time, but again, they were easily obtainable at public libraries. The point is you didn’t really have to go out of your way in that era to find out what was going on in the wider world of the hobby. Much like our electronic internet is everywhere, that old paper-based internet was just about accessible everywhere too. 

Left: Some entries in the Monogram Tom Daniel Design Contest; Car Model June 1971.
Right: Kim Adams' Surfer Rick, 2001; from Kim Adams.
Surfer Rick has strong stylistic similarities to wild custom model builds of the 60s & 70s.

I wonder if Adams was influenced by any of that literature? I know I was. Once I stumbled across Car Model at a local smoke shop in the summer of ’72, model building for me took a whole other direction. Kitbashing wasn’t something I knew about until I read about it. Well, not by reading articles about ‘kitbashing’, I don’t know when I learned that term, but seeing the results of using parts from several kits, and maybe modifying them a little. Kitbashing without knowing I was ‘kitbashing’. I usually thought of that work as ‘customization’. I think I learned the official term sometime later. The Gomez-Motiana interview touches on kitbashing a little:

"Gomez-Motiana: Both your full-scale work, if we can call it that, as well as your miniature work, is assembled from off-the-shelf components, things you can buy, whether actual car parts or model-car-kits. Where does the “craft” come into it? Is craft even important here?

Adams: It’s making these model-building kits look like the period, that’s what the craft is. Painting it to look aged and square; they have to look how the kit’s supposed to be made. But then it’s also when you start “bashing” them. All my work is what I would call “kit-bashing.” This is a common term in the industry: you cross breed a Volkswagen with a Cadillac, and you’ve got a kit bash. They must do it in architecture too, although I don’t know if they talk about it in those terms."

When he mentions ‘square’ I have to wonder what that means. Square as in all the paint and pieces are aligned properly, or the old hippie meaning of conforming to the norms of the generation prior to the hippies. Given the bits of sly humour in the responses in this interview I have to wonder.

It turns out car customizer George Barris, one of the guys Wolfe talks about in his essay, cross bred a Volkswagen with a Rolls-Royce. It was called the Raspberries Rolls since it was a promotional vehicle built for the rock group the Raspberries sometime in the early 1970s, likely 1972. I can’t quite place a firm date on it, but I should note that Revell came out with a kit of it called the Barris Kustom Rolls / VW in 1973, and the first incarnation of the Raspberries dates from 1970 to 1975. Weirdly, Liberace had a Barris-like Volks-Rolls built for him in the late 1970s to carry his furs and capes around (!).

Well, I don’t know about real architecture, but in model railroading architecture (a new field perhaps? :-) ) kitbashing is certainly a thing. We’ve talked about the king of kitbashing in the 1970s and 1980s, Art Curren, here, and also that Ur-kitbasher of the 60s, Gil Mellé. Did Adams know about these two guys or any of the others doing HO building kitbashes back then? I don’t know. I don’t know what sort of miniature kitbashes he was doing, if any, back in the 1960s or 1970s. Building kitbashes that I’ve seen date from much later. Did he dabble in architectural kitbashes during his UVic days when he got back into model car building? I don’t know.

One thing’s certain though, his HO scale building kitbashes weren’t anything like what was or is going on in the HO scale model railway world. Most model railroad kitbashes are pretty prosaic - square maybe :-) -  and don’t pass the Bug-Caddy Conjecture test. My assertion here is Adams’ HO building kitbashes are heavily influenced by the world of cars and not buildings, but, well, that’s just an assertion at this point.

Long term model builders often have origin stories that stretch back to childhood.

So far we know model building from plastic kits, especially car model building, was a passion of the young Adams. We also know from these interviews that Adams also dabbled in building model boats from balsa, but he denies any activity in model railroading even though it appears his father had at least a passing interest in it, and was even a streetcar driver for awhile. Still though, the interview segments about this early period of Adams’ artistic development, and interest in model buildings, seem cursory when compared to the questioning about influences from the art world. Maybe there isn’t anything more to tell, but model builders who return to building as adults often have rich model building backgrounds to talk about as the years go on. 

From the Enright (1998) interview it’s not clear if Adams moved back to Canada after 5 years, or moved out of the tin shack after 5 years, because in the Bus interview we’re told the family returned to Edmonton when Adams was 15, which was during 1967. So, from the interviews it’s a little unclear when he returned, but I’ll assume the most recent interview, the 2020 Bus interview, is the more accurate as it’s the most direct on this point: “…when I was fifteen, we moved back to Canada…”.

At 15 Adams would likely have been in high school. His online biographies and interviews note a few things about his school years. Over at the Canadian Encyclopedia Adams mentions “My research began in high school while I was skipping classes.” And he once mentioned he attended 12 different schools in 12 years before settling in Victoria. 

When it comes to post-secondary education all the online Adams bios state the first college he attended was the “Northwest Institute of the Arts (1974)”. So, I go online and look for the institute and can’t find any place with that name, but I do find a place called the Northwest Coast Institute of Arts, which was founded in 1974, and in 1976 was renamed Victoria College of Art. I don’t have concrete proof for this, but from what I’ve read about Adams my money is on a typo in his various online biographies. Also, the 1974 in the bio entry would mean he attended the institute the year it was founded. Adams was 22 in 1974. 

His online bios then all go on to note that he attended the Kootenay School of Art between 1974 and 1975, and the University of Victoria from 1975 to 1977, where he got an MFA in 1979. Recall that in the Gomez-Motiana interview Adams stated that while at UVic he got back into model car building. What sort? Kitbashing? I don't know.

Kim Adams' Earth Wagons (1989 - 1991) 
Image Source: Winnipeg Art Gallery

The origins of his model railway-like sculptures are a bit murky to me, but the first one, Earth Wagons, Adams seems to have started construction on it around 10 years after his graduation, and with its incorporation of full-size rolling things, wagons in this case, you can see the influence from his full-size 'Street Remakes' works, some of which are shown in One for the Road and Kim Adams. As I noted at the beginning of this post one can't neatly separate all his works into distinct categories, as they all feed on each other.

Earth Wagons was a long project, and was under development from from 1989 to 1991. However, to me, that seems rather quick for a model railway - ok, model railway like sculpture in this case - of this scope. 

Photos of Earth Wagons shown in Bus from the time it was being built show a large railway trestle with a train running along it as part of the 'layout', and you can see it in the above photo if you look closely, give it a strong model railway feel. Bus notes, along with the Winnipeg Free Press, that Earth Wagons was the precursor to the Bruegel-Bosch Bus. When I look at Earth Wagons I wonder if Adams was coming back to some earlier model railway experience he had, even though he wasn't a "junior railroader", and integrating it into his artistic mind. 

Today Earth Wagons is part of the Winnipeg Art Gallery's permanent collection. I haven't seen it yet, but hopefully one day.

Kim Adams' Artists' Colony (1987)
Image Source: Canada Council for the Arts, Art Bank

Was the spiritual forefather of Earth Wagons the Artists' Colony diorama, a large piece that looks like a section from a model railway in its use of HO scale items and organization? I don't know.

And that's where I am right now, circling in the I-don't-know cul-de-sac. Well, as you've read, there are a lot of I-don't-knows in the story that I need to resolve, and a lot of bits-and-pieces of story lines I need to stitch together into the big story of influences and development. Some sort of chronological catalogue of Adams' sculptures, maybe similar to the one in the E. L. Moore book, might be needed to help anchor the story in time. The evolution of ideas might then be more apparent with that sort of reference.

I'll wrap up this post right here, obviously incomplete and with lots of hanging threads, because the I-don't-knows are becoming too prevalent and the factual pieces too scarce. However, I'd recommend all three books, but especially Bus because you can see the piece at the Art Gallery of Hamilton and the book is a good souvenir of the experience. The other two are good if you want a little fuller understanding of Adams' work in general.

Resonances between the work of E. L. Moore and that of Kim Adams and Bodys Isek Kingelez

Awhile back I asked ChatGPT and Gemini what they knew about E. L. Moore. Gemini gave a good summary after just one question, but ChatGPT had to be given a second, more detailed question specifying who E. L. Moore was before it gave a reasonable and accurate overview of his work. 

Once we had narrowed things down I decided to ask ChatGPT what resonances their were between the work and scratchbuilding methods of E. L. Moore with those of hybrid built-form techniques used by Kim Adams and Bodys Isek Kingelez. ChatGPT classified the work of Adams and Kingelez in the genre of 'Hybrid / Found Material Art' and produced a rather interesting analysis which I'll show here:

1. Materials as expression

• Moore primarily worked with balsa wood, cardboard, paper, and small scraps — materials that were cheap, widely available, and easy to manipulate.

• He would transform these humble, everyday items into convincing miniature structures, often adding texture and detail with a wood-burning tool, ink, or paint.

• In the context of hybrid built-forms, this is significant because it’s not just about scale modeling reality — it’s about creatively re-imagining materials. Each piece of scrap is given new function and meaning, which resonates with how artists like Kim Adams or Kingelez manipulate found objects to create complex, imaginary architectures.

Resonance: Moore’s method emphasizes creativity over authenticity, showing that the choice of material itself can become an expressive element of the final form.

2. Modular and additive construction

• Many of Moore’s buildings are built in simple modules — walls, roofs, doors, windows — that are then assembled into a final structure.

• Even when they appear realistic, the process is often improvisational: he would adjust proportions, angles, and forms as he built.

• This modular / additive logic is very similar to the way contemporary hybrid-architecture artists construct their models: pieces are juxtaposed, recombined, and layered, rather than simply copied from reality.

Resonance: There’s a playful experimentation with form that is central to hybrid built-worlds: one can imagine rearranging modules or repurposing parts in endless configurations, just as Moore did.

3. Economy of means = visual inventiveness

• Moore had to work within tight spatial and material limits (apartment-sized layouts, inexpensive materials), yet he produced structures that were highly detailed and visually compelling.

• Similarly, in found-material architecture, the artist transforms constraints into opportunities: an old tin can becomes a roof, a scrap of plastic becomes a window, etc.

Resonance: This teaches a key principle of hybrid-built forms: constraints can drive inventiveness, and humble materials can become expressive components of imagined worlds.

4. Narrative embedded in structures

• Moore often paired his structures with a short, whimsical story or anecdote about the fictional owners or uses of the building.

• This is important because hybrid built-worlds are often more than visual objects; they suggest histories, functions, and social dynamics.

Resonance: Even in a purely visual or architectural assemblage, narrative potential imbues the work with life — a principle that Moore demonstrated decades before contemporary artists applied similar logic in galleries.

5. Imperfect realism = imaginative space

• Moore’s buildings are never perfect replicas; he exaggerates certain forms, simplifies others, and sometimes improvises with textures.

• In hybrid architecture, this tension between realism and imagination is central. Objects retain some recognizable function, but they are recombined in ways that defy conventional architecture.

Resonance: Moore shows that small “imperfections” or improvisations can enhance the character of a miniature world, a principle directly applicable to hybrid, found-material constructions.

Summary of Resonances:

Materials 

Moore: Balsa, cardboard, scraps 

Found-Material Art: Reclaimed, found, discarded items

Construction 

Moore: Modular, additive, improvisational 

Found-Material Art: Layered, recombined, experimental

Scale & detail 

Moore: Small-scale, highly detailed 

Found-Material Art: Often small-scale but can exaggerate or abstract

Narrative 

Moore: Light stories for each structure 

Found-Material Art: Implied or explicit narrative through form

Creativity vs. realism 

Moore: Prioritized inventiveness over strict realism 

Found-Material Art: Similar, reinterprets materials into new forms

Constraints as opportunity 

Moore: Cheap, limited materials / space 

Found-Material Art: Similar, materials define form and inspire ideas

Some of the above is obvious, some vague, some questionable. However, when I read this I'm not necessarily looking for facts, but ideas that I hadn't thought of that might stimulate new avenues to explore (like the foundational articles idea). For example, I liked the analysis on narrative that Moore would create a story for a structure, and in the found-material art approach the narrative might instead be expressed through the form of the object instead of being superimposed on it with a story. Mr. Moore wasn't a complete stranger to that aspect of design. It does get touched on in his Rube's Rhubarb Plant for example. My main concern though with this type of output is I assume the vast majority of users, assuming they ask such questions, might take the answers as unquestionably factual instead of as a jumping off point for further contemplation or investigation.

Design notes on bases for dioramas and micro-layouts

Base for Moon Mail Madness diorama after Cell-U-Clay had hardened.

I thought I’d spend a little time writing down my thoughts on how bases for dioramas and micro-layouts should be designed; well, maybe I should back off a bit and say these notes are about how I like to design bases. I think about this topic from time-to-time and it popped into my mind again after participating in the recent scale model show held here so I figured maybe this was a good time to put some notes together. I don’t claim any originality or universality here. No doubt many modellers have gone down this road too and touched on many of the same ideas. I can’t say that these notes apply to all situations; your mileage may vary :-)

I used the models to sketch on a big sheet of paper how each would be positioned on the base.

Ok, let’s move on to the first topic. These notes aren’t in any particular order, just what pops into my head as I write.

The arrangement went through several iterations; this one is close to the final

Inspiration: MacRae, Smith, Bennett, Adams, + ...

To me a diorama isn’t just a few objects or figures set on a base to show off a model in a more favourable light as implied by the show’s flyer, which noted that for their purposes we’re looking at a diorama when the following condition is met: “As soon as ANY [JDL: All caps theirs] objects are added to the bases other than the model, it will be classed as a “diorama””. To me a diorama, in the context of scale model work, isn’t simply a collection of objects, but is a model display that tells a story. The story is the primary feature and the models support the telling. A few objects or figures on a base accompanying a model isn’t a diorama, it’s simply a way of displaying a model to best advantage.

From time-to-time eye level views were assessed as the arrangement was iterated.

I’m much inspired by the dioramas of Bruce MacRae, especially his Wine Tasters diorama, as well as the scenes constructed by Michael Paul Smith, Amy Bennett, and Kim Adams. 

Now the work of Smith and Bennett aren’t dioramas in the sense that scale modellers use. Smith created what could be considered temporary scenes for purposes of photographing them, and the temporary scenes Bennett builds are for creating paintings from. However, the key here is they both use models to create scenes that tell stories. 

The objects Kim Adams makes are closer to that of classic model making diorama-ists, but the content of his work is very different. His stories are often ones of exploration into alternative possibilities of our physical world, not just highly detailed reflections of it.

But, the connecting thread running through the work of all four artists is that the centre of interest in their dioramas isn’t one or two particularly well detailed models, but stories. 

Scraps of foam sheet to be used to make the base.

In the model railroading world, E. L. Moore is my main influence. Not everything he built centred on a story, but a lot did. Over the last few years I've been impressed by the layouts shown in the French magazine Voie Libre. Ok, yes, this has an air of shameless self-promotion since a few photos of the Loonar Module appeared there in 2023 in a micro-layout feature, but in my defence I submitted photos there for a couple of reasons. I was impressed by the small layouts they'd written about over the previous 3 or 4 years, and I had never seen a layout set in a Canadian scene by an actual Canadian in their pages! I wanted to fix that injustice :-) The rest is history :-)

I quite enjoy all the layouts Voie Libre has featured, but I especially like the work of Bernard Junk and Detlev Horn, notably their layout called The Island.

Continental Modeller is also a good place to see innovative layouts. And, yes, yes, more shameless self-promotion, the Centennial Experimental Farm layout appeared in its pages this year. 

All I'm saying is that there's a lot of interesting work going on in the wide world of model railroad layouts

Tracing template was cut out after finalizing the arrangement.

Shape: Base Shape Helps Story

The footprints of many dioramas and small layouts are simple geometric shapes: squares, rectangles, circles, and ovals. This is quite understandable as these are readily obtainable in the form of pieces of wood, picture frames, display plaques, and so on. I’ve come to think though that the footprint should help tell the diorama’s story.

Sometimes foam sheets were glued together to make suitably sized pieces

I didn’t really understand this when I built the Loonar Module. I used 2’ x 2’ by 1” thick insulating foam sheets for the base because they were easy to buy at the local home renovation store. But, I wound up building a round island on a square lake! It turned out ok, but if there’s a next time the base’s footprint will reflect the story since water isn’t square :-)

Later, when I was building the Centennial Experimental Farm layout I could have just gone ahead with a rectangular footprint for the base, but I thought it more appropriate for the base to be rectangular at the Carling road end since the road was all straight edges, and rounded at the streetcar return loop at the farm end. There it matched the graceful loop of the track, and didn’t present dead corners to be filled in as it would if this end was also square. So, curved lines at the natural end, and straight edges at the urban end.

A layer ready for cutting out with a hand saw and knife.

The Mt. Lowe layout is where I’ve really started to apply the ’base shape helps story’ principle. Mt. Lowe had several scenes that I wanted to capture, but they had to be somewhat separated from each other. The trefoil seemed to help realize that desire with its three prominent lobes, each providing a separate scenic area. Thinking about the trefoil’s scenic potential a bit more I realized its footprint actually allows for 7 scenes: the 3 lobes, the 3 concavities connecting the lobes, and the aerial view, which in this case is a mountain top observatory.

Lots of scraps and foam dust after cutting out the pieces.

With the Moon Mail Madness diorama I took the principle further. As you can see in this post’s photos I designed the base’s shape as I used the models to sketch out the story; both developed at the same time. And what is the story? It’s a slice of life in the lunar postal service: two lunar postal workers meet at a crossroads and one takes a photo of the other as he begins to remove letters from a mailbox :-) I thought the base’s footprint should match the shape of the road intersection to emphasize the crossing. Also, why make the base square or rectangular and have to deal with dead space that needs filling? The only external limit on the footprint was the show’s specified requirement that all dioramas had to fit in a 2’ x 2’ area, not be a 2’ x 2’ area, which was no problem fulfilling.  

White glue holds the stack together. A rasp and sanding blocks used to form the final shape.

Presence: A Subtle Call to Look

Over the years I’ve come to like thick bases for dioramas and small layouts. 

A lot of dioramas and small layouts I’ve seen present the viewer with a decent top side model and scene set on a thin, platter-like base. Sort of like a meal that has been put on a dinner plate. Some might say, well it’s the modelling that’s of interest and not what it’s sitting on, much like it’s the meal that’s important and not the plate below.

An anti-slip mat was cut and glued to the bottom of the base.

To me though a diorama or layout is a complete, integrated object; a type of three-dimensional sculpture. A diorama doesn’t consist of a good part (the model work) that is to be enjoyed and an irrelevant support part (the base) that is to be ignored. The base’s footprint helps to tell the story, and its height helps to command you to look at that story by establishing the diorama or layout’s physical presence amongst all other objects that vie for a viewer’s attention.

This is another idea that at first I didn’t fully appreciate. The Loonar Module’s base is 3 foam sheets thick because I wanted it to be quite rigid and strong. Mission accomplished. However, looking at the result over weeks and months I felt the thick base gave the layout a solid look that I quite liked. It seemed like the island actually was rooted in something, not just sitting on something.

Anti-slip mat trimmed to fit the bottom of the base.

On the Centennial Experimental Farm I deliberately made the base height about the same as what I thought the tallest tree would be. It seemed odd to me to have big, tall trees (completely to scale regarding height and canopy volume) sticking out of a base no thicker than a pizza box. It didn’t seem balanced. It didn’t seem substantial.

However, like the Loonar Module’s base, I painted it black because I didn’t want the base to draw attention to itself. Its job was simply to say “here’s a story” and bring it to a viewer’s attention, not be the story. The base is to be the strong silent type component in this object we call a diorama: it provides structural support, it’s footprint provides narrative support, it’s height makes a call for attention and visually balances the models, but it tries to do all this in a subtle manner, not calling unnecessary attention to itself. 

The mailbox rise is glued to the base. Note commercial vac-formed crater to the right.

Moon Mail Madness violates the subtly principle a little with the inclusion of the postcard. I thought it would help the overall story, and it tries to be subtle while doing so. Sometimes on layouts that are structured like framed paintings instead of sculptural objects you’ll see a lot of labels, stickers, photos, warnings, awards, and other ephemera attached to the surround. That’s all too loud and distracting for me. The layout needs to speak for itself. Likewise, dioramas need to speak for themselves. They shouldn’t need any supporting documentation or ephemera hanging around trying to divert attention.

Crater glued on. White glue spread on foam prior to applying Cell-U-Clay.

Materials: Sheet Foam

I use foam sheets for my bases because they are lightweight, strong when laminated, easy to cut and shape, and low cost. I learned a hard lesson when I built the portable Lost Ocean Line layout from wood. It became too heavy to be very portable by me alone. Other materials can certainly be used. Foam sheets aren’t some magic one-size-fits-all solution, but I’d say put the wood back in the rack if it isn’t completely necessary. If you’re using wood for decorative reasons, that’s a different story.

Spare Moonscope wheel was used to roll in tracks.

On the Loonar Module I sided the base with sheet styrene to give it a smooth finish. I’ve subsequently learned that isn’t completely necessary. Smoothing the foam sides and then painting them with an artist’s quality acrylic will produce a decent finished surface. Although foam sides may seem a bit rough and soft after shaping and smoothing, the acrylic paint acts as a binder to solidify the surface as well as provide colour. Think of the paint job as applying a surface binder that just so happens to have a colour, which is black in my case. 

After 2 weeks of curing, cheap acrylic paints were used to colour the surface

Eye Level: An unresolved problem

I’ve always thought that the conventional way scale models (plastic models, train layouts, doll houses, every category really) are shown and displayed is odd. I think the best way to view them is at eye level because, usually, that’s how we encounter their real life counterparts. Yet, models are usually displayed so that the most common viewing angle is from above. I understand the practical reasons for this, but it doesn’t do justice to the models and the work of their makers. By setting out models on tables of conventional height only small children get the best views :-) 

Maybe conventional tables augmented with some sort of leg extensions would do the trick for model shows. Combined with showing dioramas or layouts with thick bases, this might almost solve the eye level viewing problem. Or maybe not. If you’re a long time reader here I’ve tried some experiments to fix this issue over the years, but haven’t been satisfied yet with the results. 

Ready for adding the models.

These aren't likely my final thoughts on the subject. They simply capture a few aspects of my current thinking. 

Oh, and before I run off for coffee, Sheperd Paine's book How to build Dioramas is always good to consult. Maybe I'll dive in again while coffee's brewing.

Awaiting the show.

Kim Adams' Arrived

Beginning around the 9 minute mark Mr. Adams has some interesting things to say about how his work stands in relation to the model railroading hobby.

The Bug-Caddy Conjecture

Bug / Rolls-Royce kit from Revell's 1974-75 catalog

I've been writing about kitbashing a lot recently, and one thing I should have written in this post is that I have this bit set in my head that true kitbashing has a degree of wildness about it. Wildness being, going off the ranch, veering down some side-street, pursuing something in your mind no matter how unconventional. Kitbashing to make buildings bigger, or build replicas of prototypes that aren't commercially available are honourable and useful pursuits, but they seem more instrumental in their goals. They aren't wild. They aren't exploratory. Every time I see a kitbash, the Kim Adams definition of kitbashing sluices through my brain,

All my work is what I would call "kit-bashing." This is a common term in the model industry: you cross breed a Volkswagen with a Cadillac, and you've got a kit bash. 

Crossbreeding a Bug with a Caddy, now that's kitbashing! I think have this biased view because I first learned about kitbashing in the model car magazines of the late '60s and early '70s, which were far from the sedate world of model railroading. Maybe it was just a demographic thing. The model car press was focused on pre-teen boys, whose tastes are notoriously unrefined and which I was at the time, and the model railroad press was more sophisticated and oriented to adults. 

So, casting kitbashing in terms of crossbreeding a Bug and Caddy makes some sense to me. So much so I propose a test, The Bug-Caddy Conjecture, which is this: if in an assemblage, found components are brought together in a new and surprising manner, then kitbashing has occurred. What constitutes new and surprising? Well, it's not an exact test, it's just a conjecture, just something to get the brain cells asking questions.

Maybe surprisingly, I think Art Curren just squeaks a pass in The Bug-Caddy Conjecture. Ok, Mr. Curren's work isn't out on the same limb as Mr. Adams', but they both worked on creating new stuff, not just extensions of existing things. Mr. Curren's work is far mellower, and some did slide out of the outskirts of the Bug-Caddy zone and into conventional, but in general he seemed to have created buildings based on extrapolations of the look-and-feel of a certain era instead of specific prototypes. Ok, I admit the kits he used were modelling those eras, and he lets the era pop out in his creations instead of hiding them.

Look there's this other factor I have to take into account, Mr. Curren published for the mainstream model railroad magazines of his time, so he was possibly limited in what he could write about. The other side of kitbashing for magazines is that it helps push the sales of kits, and promotes vendors and advertisers. The post suggested an alternative question that asked what would Mr. Curren build with the vast numbers of plastic kits available today, but I should have went further and also asked, what would he build if he didn't have to publish an associated how-to article for a mainstream magazine? Or publish anything period. In his own time, did he build anything that he loved, but was unpublishable? E. L. Moore had a number of projects that were deemed unpublishable - which speak to the ongoing development of his interests - so I wouldn't be surprised if Art Curren did too.

And there's this other thing. Mr. Curren preferred to call what he did kitmingling instead of kitbashing. Kitbashing does seem to have this sound about it that it's something that's done with hammers and anvils and forges, where it fact it's something far more cerebral because you have to assimilate a lot of shapes, and figure out how to cut and slice and blend and assemble them to end up with the thing you're looking for. His preferred term, kitmingling, seems better for describing what's going on. When I look at Mr Adam's work, some is clearly kitmingling, and other stuff, like the Bruegel-Bosch-Bus, seems like anvil-pounding kitbashing. Maybe we should be a little more discerning in our use of terms: kitbashing for the wilder stuff, and kitmingling for the more cerebral end. 

The only reason I drone on about definitions, tests, and such is that I think the exploratory aspect of kitbashing-kitmingling sometimes gets glossed over, and maybe we'd see a little more speculative stuff if we took a little deeper look at what can be meant by bashing and mingling. I'm hoping to try a little more out there stuff myself this year - maybe the 350 Boss Birney will finally see the light of day :-) Hopefully a late New Year's resolution has a little more chance of being accomplished :-)