« Know Yourself » was famously inscribed on the entrance of Apollo’s Temple in Delphi and remained a strong maxim that still resonates to this day. As a friend recently said, we forget that pride, which is nothing more than a lie, is often at the heart of most human misfortunes. As a matter of fact, model railroading is plagued by pride in the sense that we all strive toward incredible goals while constantly lying to ourselves about our goals and means. I was recently listening to a few model railroading podcasts and, for most of the time, they are all about struggling with lack of satisfaction, compromises, broken dreams and the incapacity to find a consistent narrative in one’s work. Frustration is the word and most try to cope by lying to themselves. It’s also funny how they answer invariably to people looking for advice with “find a small prototype” and “build a shelf layout” as if it was a panacea. Things are more complicated than that and personal goals may differ greatly even if we share the same passion.
That said, many find solace by being true to what they are and, while most of them aren’t prototype modeller, maybe there is some wisdom in their choice. Funny thing, I was watching some guy’s basement empire replicating an entire subdivision somewhere in the US Northwest. I thought it was overdone and couldn’t understand how someone could build such a monster in a lifetime… The scenery and artistic touch were not great and for a while, I thought he mismanaged his effort. Yet, it was clear that museum quality scenery wasn’t a goal of his and that going the good enough road was probably what made it possible to reach a satisfactory level. Not sure if he’s happy, but given he invested the time and resources to build the layout and bring together many people, I would say his goals were consistent with what he truly wanted. He wanted to operate a subdivision with friends and it seems he reach that goal. That’s more than commendable!
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| An operating session on Farnham Terminal |
At the other hand of the spectrum, you find our good old switching layouts which I love to design. They seem to be a great answer to many ills and provide an achievable canvas, a good deal of moderation and the possibility to explore at your own pace. However, as I said previously, it’s not the panacea and I find myself stuck in that middle of the road position.
A good example is the recent MMA based layout I designed. During the weekend, I put together some old modules over a pair of Kallax shelves and added some tracks and cardboard mockups. During the day, I operated the layout thrice on DC to get a hang of it before committing to build. The first time was fun… the second was OK… the third was: enough is enough… You may put that on the fact I was getting tired, but I was not. I was just bored at a beautifully crafted idea. My fun was derived from proving that I could create a visually compelling working layout in such a small place. I loved it, but not building and operating it. As I mentioned to Chris Mears, great intellectual fun is derived from solving such puzzles, but I don’t want them as something to play with. Which brings me back to knowing yourself first.
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| Such a small layout can get realistically busy |
After switching the small layout, I couldn’t help but recall a slightly less famous Lance Mindheim’s quote: “he doesn’t give a rat’s rear about operations”. Sure, with such colorful words, it’s hard to forget! Lance is well known for promoting the small switching layout over more than last decade and his writing certainly helped me to find my groove when I was lost. However, what is less known are how he can adopt a dramatically different position if his customer doesn’t fit the small layout operation type. In the aforementioned blog post, Lance was describing that knowing yourself matters and put together a fictional customer who had desires that went against the grain. Funnily enough, the older I get, the closer I feel to that “guy” who doesn’t care.
When I built the Murray Bay Subdivision, I derived most of my fun from
scenery. The same applied with Stanstead. Modelling rivers, embankments, woods,
grass, fields, ditches and all the mundane natural things were a pure joy and
almost a spiritual experience. I recall Louis-Marie often commenting on how my
persona brightened up when I was doing vast swat of scenery. In the same vein,
I love building structures that are intricately connected to the scenery, like
bridges, retaining walls and the various little trackside details. If it’s part
of the landscape, I love it… and that’s something I’ve always knew yet never
fully understood. I may well be a landscape modeller.
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| At the end of the day, it's cute... but gets old fast |
Another place from where I derive a lot of fun is watching train runs.
How often did I write that I was looking at Jérôme switching the layout. I
don’t want to control the trains; I want to see them in motion. The moment I
have the controller in my hand, the magic spell break and it’s no longer
possible to immerse myself completely into the scene. Hence why I probably
don’t care a rat’s rear about operations. More on that in a following article
as it will have direct impact on the Monk Subdivision.
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