Lights! And Other Hauls!

The pink bats were, maybe, an homage to something in my subconscious.  I'm a huge Elton John fan, and he's serenaded me quite a bit during this project.  In any case, less pink bats--and a l'oeil de boeuf window that's, um, somewhat unusual--are coming.

In the meantime, some treats have arrived!  I bought several lighting fixtures; I'm still waiting on the second batch (the shop apparently had to special order it), but the first finally arrived.  That was a special order, too.  Which brings me to my first question: what's going on at Clare Bell Brass Works?  I've noticed that, recently, much of their line has been exceedingly hard to find--and what is available isn't, actually, available.  Inventory is, I'm told, really hard to come by.

At a job site earlier today.

The above picture represents the end of four years' worth of work.  Hey, it was a growth experience!  I don't know what everyone else does for work, but, sometimes, don't you just want to slam something (like your head) into a wall?  Now that this case is finally over, I should probably be nostalgic...but I'm not.  It was my First Big Case; I went in naive and stupid, and came out...naive and stupid but slightly more highly paid.

We're apparently taking publicity shots of ourselves now.  Or, at least, trying to convince our overseas relatives that we're not quite as loony as they think.  Mission impossible, right?

I like things meant for model trains.  Most of the LED's and other electrical equipment I bought are.  In particular, I'm excited from this "fire kit" from Evan's Designs.  Most of their stuff is pretty reasonably priced, so if it all turns out to suck I'm not out too much.  Unlike usual.  Then again, considering what we pay for Jackson's baby food, maybe I should stop beating myself up about it.

My haul.

High hopes!

Clare-Bell's "orient express" lamp.

This haul comes from Evan's Designs, S and P Miniatures, Swan House (thank you Greg for special ordering all of this for me!) and eBay.  I'd been searching high and low for a suitable newel post lamp (which is really more Eastlake Victorian than Gothic Revival, but who cares) and, surprisingly, there really isn't anything good.  At least, not in my price range!  I finally found this little Asian-style dolphin lamp which, once it's had a bit of a paint treatment--the "gold" color it comes in is ghastly--will, I think, fit the bill.  I'm also considering rewiring it with a (different colored) LED.  But that might be a bit over the top.

Thank you eBay, you veritable trove of delights!

These Nova-Lytes have been a bit tough to find, too; these were special ordered from Swan House (and at a really reasonable price; not everything they sell is expensive).  I'm planning on using them in a few places where I need illumination but not, necessarily, a light.  Like in the crypt.  We shall see.  Jim says he'll help me install them; he has a great deal more aptitude for wiring than I do.

Clare-Bell sconces!

I really like their shades.

And then, well, there's the increasingly bizarre family of creatures who actually live in this house.  Inspiration-wise, it's something of a hodge podge, but hey.  Aren't real houses?  As an excuse to hoard little vials of potions, etc etc etc, my resident wizard is something of a chemist.  Who, indeed, has quite the home office.

From S and P Miniatures.

"Syphilis Can Be Cured" just cracks me up.  As do the leeches.  Hey, not everyone wants a love potion.

I plan on giving this sign (which will go somewhere near the front door) a chemical wash and, hopefully, a nice patina.  Wouldn't want anything encouraging, would you?

Well naturally.

Another view of the would-be newel post lamp.

Every lawn needs an abandoned croquet set.

Who knows when I'll actually get to start installing these lights.  And as for the rest of it--it'll just all just have to wait!  A long time!  At the rate I'm going, Jackson will be taking the SAT's before this house is done.  Which is just as well, because how many more dollhouses do we really have room for?

A Little Piece Of The Magic

I forget if I mentioned before, but I'm making a roombox for my husband. 

Although I'm making most of its components myself, a few will be contributed by other artisans.  The first, and in my opinion, most delightful of those components arrived yesterday.  Although I can't afford De Cave Designs' magical bookseller's shop, I can bring home a little piece of the magic in the form of a Louis XIV bookseller's table.  This sort of makes the room, with nothing else in it, doesn't it?

The room itself, architecturally, is Dutch, but we'll be filling it with an eclectic mix of French and American (and a few British!) pieces.

Doesn't it look great?

If you'd designed it for this space, it couldn't fit in better.

The finish on the table itself is really lovely.  I adore the burl effect.  The books themselves, too, are utterly charming.

One last look...

Michael Mortimer, And A Quick Editorial Note

I love all things medieval and tudor, and I have a small but growing collection of work by one of the titans in that field, Michael Mortimer.  Honestly, Mr. Mortimer's stuff has to be seen, up close and personal, to be believed.  A lot of dollhouse furniture has character, and a lot of dollhouse furniture showcases skill.  It's very rare to find a piece that exemplifies both qualities.  Mr. Mortimer's work is some of my favorite; I purchased these pieces from Miniature Scene, York, one of the nicest dollhouse shops around.

I'm actually in the process of collecting furniture for a larger tudor house that I haven't built yet.  I'm also in the process of designing fireplace surrounds, etc.  Once I have a good collection of items, I'll design and build a suitable house around them.  Although my heart lies with smaller scenes, and roomboxes, I do lust after the occasional grander scale home.  I'll keep you updated on my progress!

This cupboard bed is based on a real piece of furniture.

I'm currently hunting for suitable fabric to make a curtain.

The level of detail in Mr. Mortimer's pieces has to be seen to be believed.

A privy!

The concept of privacy (as we know it) was brand new in tudor times.  The first "modern" privy was, essentially, invented by a Frenchman who insisted that his servants carry a green silk tent around with them; he would have it erected over his portable privy, to give himself some respite.  He was considered quite missish.  Many medieval privies were simply niches set into walls, with the necessary equipment--and thus he who used it--out there for all to see.

These are just wonderful hinges.

A bathtub.

Time for the weekly bath, eh?

Finally, a note on historical accuracy: one of my readers emailed me, concerned that I was misrepresenting my work as historically accurate.  Specifically, I used the term "historically accurate" in the title of my last tutorial.  Am I, in fact, misleading you, my readership, as to what is, and is not, correct?

Well, I certainly hope not.  As I've said before, while I'm certainly inspired by medieval and tudor--as well as American colonial, and other--influences, my work belongs to, primarily, the realm of fantasy.  Minis are, for me as, I imagine, for others, an escape from reality--a chance to create my own little world.  I've been making and collecting minis since I was seven, but my first serious foray into the world of "adult" miniatures was during my teenage years.  I absolutely fell in love with an historic home in my home town.  I couldn't live there, so, as they say, I brought the mountain to Mohammed.  I endeavored to recreate my favorite place in miniature.  And, well, I've been at it ever since.

These days, the "favorite place" I create is one of simplicity, tranquility, and wonder.  I'm most inspired by the elusive realm of fantasy, for what the very concept of fantasy represents in my own life--in all our lives.  It's nice to remember, once in awhile, that dreams are possible--and our efforts are sufficient to realize them.

No, I'm not building museum models; my work isn't mean to be a history lesson.  No, the thatched roof tutorial doesn't represent how a thatched roof was actually made.  Nobody really used fur, or Quick Grip, or varnish.  My goal wasn't to give you a history lesson, but to help you create something that, when done, would look good.

Real medieval and tudor houses weren't made out of plywood, or MDF, either; nobody used craft glue.  Landscape elements weren't made out of styrofoam and Woodland Scenics products.  Moreover, medieval England wasn't coursing with wizards.  Sadly, these things exist only in our heads--and insomuch as our hands can give them life.  I'm inclined, honestly, to believe there's enough "reality" in the world already.

I write this blog, and sell my miniatures, and contribute the occasional magazine tutorial, because I love all things mini, and want to share my joy with you.  And, truly, I feel very privileged for the opportunity to do so.  I hope you enjoy minis--in all their many multitudes of forms--as much as I do.

The Most Amazing Thing I've Seen

Every once in awhile, you come across a piece that, as they say, sets the gold standard.  I've seen a handful in my time, but, unfortunately, mostly before I started writing this blog.  I wish that, now, looking back on it, I'd chronicled those experiences better.  As a miniaturist, of course, I have a professional interest in my fellow miniaturists' work...but, really, who am I kidding?  When I see something really incredible, something that utterly engages my imagination, I really just want to play with it.  Every time I see a truly beautiful miniature, I feel the same sense of wonder I did when I got my first dollhouse at age six.

Case in point: DeCave Designs' Windsor Antiques and Rare Book Shop.  This is, quite simply, the best roombox I've ever seen.  I could move right in!

Some Highlights From My Artisan Miniature Collection

I designed the interior of the Wizard's Eyrie around a few of my favorite pieces, so, in celebration of finally finishing it, I thought I'd share a few of them with you.  Introducing them to their new home is only the start of what, I think, will be a long furnishing project.  I still have to find, or make myself, the wizard's bed, desk, work table, etc.

The chairs are hanging on the wall, upside down, so they're out of the way until they're needed.  Anyone who needs to furnish a small space--of whatever scale--should take a few cues from the American pioneers.  The wizard's bed will go along the right-hand wall, his desk under the window, and his work table in the middle of the room.

These chairs were made by Pete and Pat Boorum of Smaller Than Life.

A chair flanked by two gathering baskets.

I collect Al Chandronnait's baskets, as well as fill them for sale, and wanted to give some of the pieces in my own collection a good home.  Like most wizards, ours is very hardworking, and must grow or gather most of his own supplies. He, thus, has a range of baskets for various jobs: small baskets for gathering herbs, big baskets for gathering his neighbor's pies.

Mr. Chandronnait's work is truly extraordinary, requiring a fine and steady hand.

On good days, these baskets might be filled with apples.

I purchased this piece at Molly Cromwell's Sturbridge Miniatures Festival several years ago.

This bellows was made by Al Chandronnait.

This is another piece I purchased at a show.  Sadly, I don't know the name of the artisan.  If I did, I'd buy more of her work!

It opens!

This is my small but growing collection of wizard's implements.

This is a piece I actually purchased for a different project; it's an historically accurate medieval rat trap from SP Miniatures.

I pity the poor rat!

I made this shelf to hold the wizard's prized potions, and other supplies.

So there you have it: a few highlights from my small but growing collection.  Now that I'm finally building (and finishing!) a few homes for my own collection, instead of to sell, I'm hoping it'll really have a chance to grow.

Making An Authentic Tudor Thatched Or Sod Roof, Part II

This (picture heavy) post is a follow-up to Part I, and covers the next phase of installing an authentic tudor roof.  As always, I welcome your feedback.  It gets a little lonely, here, sometimes!

 A view of the ceiling.  There are a few little bits hanging out, but I'm not too concerned at the moment.  I'm going to touch up the inside, and deal with any problems, when it comes time to cut, finish, and install the interior support beams.

Another view of the ceiling. 

I dry-fitted some of the paneling, to get the general effect. 

A close up of the fabric.  You can see what I mean about it having a "direction".  It looks and feels like mossy bark.  Scale is a critical issue, here; small scale "bark" and "moss" don't look the same as our full scale stuff. 

I find it helpful to cut out a pattern, first.  This helps save aggravation...and fabric!  This is the back view of the fabric.

I trimmed the fabric with a (very sharp) x-acto knife, before attaching the wood trim. 

I ran extra pieces of fabric around the underneath of all the overhangs.  It's important, here, to remember that all the fabric pieces point the same "direction"!  This is really one of those situations where the final product is more than the sum of its parts.  No, it doesn't look very realistic now...but it will. 

I repeated the same procedure with the front, as I did with the back. 

I found it easiest to tape the overhang in place, allowing the glue time to dry, before trimming it to fit.

Our little eyrie is getting somewhere! 

Fitting all the eaves with fabric is a super tedious process, but completely worth it in the end. 

I (carefully) patched holidays with tiny extra bits of fabric. 

A view of the inside, with the edges all trimmed. 

I waited until after I'd trimmed all the edges, and applied the basswood facing, before applying stain.  The stain I'm using on the exterior is a raw umber.  After the stain dried, I applied two thin coats of satin varnish.  Here, the varnish serves a dual purpose; I gently went over just the edges of the fabric with varnish, to keep it from unraveling.  Little bits and pieces of fabric poking out is desirable; this is, after all, supposed to be made of bark and sod--a little mess is realistic.  However, you don't want pieces of fabric hanging out all over the place--or, indeed, unraveling completely over time.

Another view of the finished edging. 

A close-up of the varnish bead. 

Another close up of the varnish bead. 

The reason it's important to carry the fabric all the way around is, this roof is supposed to be as authentic as possible.  In real life, the whole thing would've been made of a various combination of planks, bits of bark, bundled rushes, and/or sod.

The cats eventually got bored of watching me and decided to take a nap on top of the radiator cover.

OK, now we're ready for the second phase of this roof.  No tudor ceiling is complete without interior beams.  Particularly, too, with fabric like this, you need mixed media to break up the patterns and textures, and make the final product seem a little more authentic.  I began by selecting a slightly smaller piece of wood for the interior beams.  In a real tudor home, many different beams of many different dimensions were used, depending on their intended function--and, of course, on the amount of weight they were meant to bear.  Using the same size wood, exclusively, will both bring your house out of scale, and look inauthentic. 

I dry-fitted the interior beams.  For this project, I decided on five beams.  You can see, in this close up, one consequence of using fabric: a buckle, directly above the right-hand beam.  I solved that problem by making a small incision--along the "direction" of the fabric--with my x-acto knife, daubing in some blue, and pressing the buckle flat.

Because the beams require a bit of a funny angle, it's important to dry-fit them.

Here, I'm testing the beams out for length.  I cut the steep angle first, because it's the most challenging, and then pressed the beams toward the ceiling, to determine the exact length.  It's better to start out slightly too long, and shave down, than start out too short and waste wood.

After I dry-fitted the beams running along the far ceiling, I cut and dry fitted the beams running along the near ceiling.  In my house, these latter beams slightly overlap the first set.  For authenticity's sake, I wanted everything to fit together as perfectly as possible, so I made a lot of fine tuning adjustments.  It was stressful, yes...but really rewarding at the same time.

Oh, and hey...in case you're wondering, "what are those pegs, and that hanging chair about?", I was inspired by American Amish architecture.  The Amish are tremendous believers in utility, and we can all learn a lot from them.  The American Shaker movement certainly did; many authentic Shaker homes, and public buildings, feature the same system of pegs.  Basically, the Amish hang everything from chairs, to side tables, to quilts on the wall, when they're not being used.  The idea is to get them out of the way, so the room can be put to as many different uses as possible.  When friends come over, you can take the chairs down off the wall; after they leave, you can hang the chairs back up and use the open space to lay out quilt pieces.

Since this is a fantasy dollhouse, I borrowed these indigenous American elements.  Actually, if you look closely, Peter Jackson did something quite similar when he conceived the film version of Bag End.  Amish, Shaker, and Tudor elements blend a lot more elegantly than you might at first assume!  Because my little hut is so small, I wanted to furnish it with more delicate furniture.  These chairs were purchased at a show from Pete and Pat Boorum of Smaller Than Life.  They make many wonderful pieces, all of which exhibit extraordinary craftsmanship.  Simple furniture relies on proportion to achieve beauty, and their furniture is unusually elegant.