I was taking a break from dioramas. I’d packed up the paint and brushes, the razors and wire and foam. All of my old builds were placed in storage. The hot glue gun hung cold from a hook on the back of the Anthill door. I considered the now-empty shelves of the studio, thought again about my upcoming surgery. Some pesky dental issues had come to a head and I was slated to have work done the following morning. I’ve had my share of cavities over the years, so sitting in the chair is nothing new to me. That said, I was feeling edgy and anxious. I would have had a cocktail, but the surgery meant I couldn’t eat or drink, so I was hungry and sober to boot. A lousy combination.
Looking for distraction, I hopped on the Internet and checked out some diorama workshop pages. Fwoosher CustomCreator had posted some in-progress shots of a set of park steps he was building. I liked the look of his dio; it was compact, but offered a lot of surface area, making it ideal for both photography and display purposes. It’s design was simple, direct, exactly the sort of thing I usually don’t build.
Synapses fired. Impulse asserted itself. All of the supplies that had been carefully packed away were dragged back out; soon the familiar smell of hot glue filled the room. The hours passed in a blur as I worked, my mind focusing the sum total of my nervous energy on the process at hand. When I finally lay down at 5 AM I was well on my way to something entirely new and unexpected — yes, I took pictures.
I made the steps in fairly short order, but when I compared them to the source material I could see I’d strayed a bit. My proportions were way off and I’d made two steps too many. Instead of scrapping the whole mess or starting over, I simply ignored the source material from that point on and allowed instinct and inspiration to guide my next move.
In the past I had carved my brick patterns directly into my core foam, without bothering with overlays. This time I decided to use some thinner craft foam to make a facade I would glue on to the exterior of my structure. Not only would it provide dimensionality and realism to the build, but it was much easier to work in small sections and assemble them after the fact. I made a series of compatible pieces and set them aside for later use. I framed the entranceway using the same brick pattern and measurements.
I attached the rest of the brick facade to the front of the building, then I cut some additional foam for my side walls. My initial impulse was to make the walls shallow, as opposed to creating a structure with a full-sized footprint, but the temptation to “go big” proved too much to resist. I’d gone from bashing out a set of stairs to assembling a full-sized building.
Once my new walls were cut and glued in place, I used Crayola Air Dry clay to fill in the obvious seams. It tends to crumble over large applications, but as gap-filler it works quite nicely. I needed it because I was using a broken box cutter with the dullest blade in existence. I cannot over-stress the importance of sharp razor blades when working with foam. You’ll save yourself a lot of foam and heartache if you always have a fresh blade in your Exacto.
By now it was late in the night, but I was working like a man possessed. I added sidewalls to the steps and boxed in the entranceway with scrap foam. I also chose to cut a window in one of the front walls to play down the symmetry. I framed it with some dowel rods and then stuck a torn-up screen on the inside just to see what it looked like. After attaching the rest of the brick facade, I was finally worn down enough to get some sleep.
I woke up the next morning, went to my appointment, returning two hours later raw and sore. In spite of this, I was still motivated to work on the project. I covered the green of the foam with a white base coat and experimented with a blue wash on the bricks. Once that was dry, I pulled out some fodder and began placing it on and around the building, getting a sense of what it might be. I created a simple gutter using a dowel rod and a bit of Build-a-Straw and bent some metal into mock fencing. Pleased with my progress, I snapped this pic.
At this point I was thinking that this was probably going to be a corner store. It wasn’t until later that I realized the structure was almost identical to an old Veterans of Foreign Wars post I used to pass on my way to work every day. It had been closed for years, or if it ever was open, I’d never been there. Still, something about that little gray building stayed with me, hiding in my subconscious until reappearing years later on my workbench. Then it all came into focus.
I found a V.F.W. logo online and downloaded it. I added the additional text and “wear” with some photo editing, printed it out, glued it to a piece of comic backer board, framed it with paint-stained craft sticks, and then worked it over with some of “Roy’s special dirt.” Satisfied, I set it aside until I finished the final painting.
Because I’d made the dio so big, there was a lot of room on the inside — so much, in fact, I couldn’t justify not using it. I hadn’t planned on making a two-sider, but then again, I hadn’t planned anything. It seemed only natural to follow the muse and decorate the interior. Because of the orientation of the outside stair and hallway, I knew I had to raise the floor. I did so using scrap insulation materials and more foam. To keep the floor from looking too plain, I decided to go with faux wood boards, which I drew directly onto my craft-foam.
After a base-coat of black I dry-bushed a few shades of brown on, working my way up from darkest to lightest. Thanks to the foam overlay, I successfully hid the gaps in the flooring, giving the interior a consistency and old-timey vibe I could build on.
A few minutes of Internet searching provided me with some antique wallpaper I liked. I tweaked it using a photo-editing program to add age and wear. I attached it to the inner walls with Elmer’s Glue, which is wet enough to stain through the page, making it look water-damaged. I allow some bubbling and bumps when attaching the paper to further the illusion of decrepitude.
Posters and signage can add a lot to your urban builds. While many people skew modern, I tend to lean more towards older stuff. And while I wasn’t on the scene for any of these particular shows, the hand-made fliers are representative of the black-and-white xerox landscape of my youth. Even at this small size their text and imagery is striking.
But don’t take my word for it. Consider the power of advertising for yourself:
At this stage in the game, the V.F.W.’s exterior was pretty much finished, so I took it outside for a few shots. The golden dusk immediately turned into a cloudy gray murk, but I clicked on.
Once the exterior was photographed, I turned my attention inwards. The decor proved to be suitably grim for what was clearly an abandoned building. It was easy to imagine rats, cockroaches, and desperate criminal-types taking refuge within.
What are the odds these two former Soviet citizens will be happy to see each other?
I lit the interior with four small battery-powered lights I found at a discount store. I stuck them directly into the foam on the back of the roof, which allows them to be repositioned or removed entirely. It would have been easy to over-decorate the interior, but I restrained myself, instead going for a more realistically minimal amount of debris. After all, stuff can be moved in and out to meet the needs of the scene.
And that’s the V.F.W. My anxiety-build worked out well enough — yeah, it’s a bit on the rough side, but it reflects the state I was in at the time. I learned a few things and only burned myself once, so I consider that a win. The only problem? The dentist wasn’t able to do all of the work in one go, so I’m due back next week. Looks like I’d better get some new Exacto blades . . .
A special thanks to CustomCreator for the use of his photo and the inspiration. Be sure to check out the link for more of his great work.
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