05/09/2024
A few high-falootin' thoughts for my fellow scale model builders:
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Why I Love Building Biplanes and You Might As Well!
(just a friendly suggestion)
As I sit here watching glue dry, pondering gappy wing-roots I’ll soon be fixthatsh*tting, I ponder anew why we choose the subjects we do. Me? I love biplanes. So why do I now sit bent over a weird WW2 Japanese fighter plane. Why? Why do I torment myself so? Why do I feel this obligation to cheat on my true modeling love? And why in the name of all that’s holy didn’t I refresh my empty bourbon supply before saddling up to the workbench tonight? I’ll be cursing this hideous wing-root later. I’ll be cursing it abundantly.
Affection for WW1 biplanes places the scale model builder in a low-membership club, relatively speaking, especially compared to the Messerspitstang Gang. WW1 aficionados are relegated to the weird kids’ table, like at highschool cafeterias, or Nats competition rooms (baddum-shping!).
My affection for WW1 aviation kits is partly conceptual, partly philosophical, largely aesthetic to be sure, but mostly technical. The latter is the subject of this post (finally!) I wonder if the widely held aversion to biplanes might be overcome if the obvious is considered more carefully.
I love building WW1 aviation and humbly suggest you should too.
Here’s why:
World War-1 aircraft are kind of inside-out aeroplanes. Everything that enables them to fly and fight is (usually) overtly visible outside their skin: engines, guns, much of the superstructure. Even the skeleton hidden within is often visible through the skin. Instruments such as compasses and airspeed indicators, mini-propeller driven generators, even crew are all hanging out there in the airstream. This requires us to recreate all kinds of materials and surfaces. Isn’t convincingly transforming grey styrene into other stuff the essential challenge – and joy – of scale modeling?
The Halberstadt CL.II (see diagram) is a good example. Along its 23.9-foot (7.3 meter) length a remarkable variety of airplane guts, gizmos, materials and finishes sit adjacent to one another in a wonderful juxtaposition of materials, textures and colors. And of course all these suffer wear differently which adds yet another dimension. Variety and contrast is naturally engaging to the eye.
Later generations of aircraft don’t offer nearly this degree variety and juxtaposition. As engines became more powerful and aircraft speeds increased, the myriad details biplanes wear on their exterior moved under the skin, along with the opportunity for modelers to recreate them. If transforming grey parts into parts that don’t look like grey plastic is so much fun why don’t more modelers embrace the variety WW1 airframes offer? All that lovely copper, brass, wood, steel cable, leather, iron, linen and whatnot to emulate – joy!
Get a good WW1 biplane kit and give it a try it, I think you’ll like it.
A word on rigging: Not as hard as it looks and I’ll take that challenge over seams surgery any day.
Speaking of seams, I now return to this WW2-era mutant wing-root before me.
Dreaded cosmetic surgery travails lay ahead but I shall not be defeated. Pyrrhic victory is better than none I suppose. Maybe?
Onward.
