How To Make Old, Grimy Cookware

Surprisingly, there are a lot of things you can do with Chrysnbon cookware.  I have a couple different ideas in the works, and will be posting pictures when I'm further along with them.  Which, incidentally, might be awhile.  We actually have found a place to rent for the winter, but between work, moving, etc, I really don't know what the next few weeks will be like.  I do know that I'll have an actual craft room--if a small one--for awhile, which will be nice.  And, hopefully, our house will get built within a reasonable time frame.

Anyway, moving on...

You will need:

1. A set (or two) of Chrysnbon cookware.  Sometimes you can find it cheaper on eBay.  
2. Testors buffing aluminum plate metalizer (unless you have an airbrush, make sure you're buying the 3 oz spray and not the airbrush only formulation).
3. Testors metallic copper enamel.  I personally use the spray formulation, but it really doesn't matter; if you're more comfortable with a paintbrush, use the bottled version.  It's the same stuff, and interchangeable.  Sometimes, I spray things and end up touching them up with a brush later on; you can't tell the difference.
4. Americana brand craft paint in "lamp black" and "burnt sienna."
5. Q-tips (these are really good to have on hand anyway).
6. Toilet paper (for all purposes, I prefer Charmin Ultra Strong.
7. A sanding sponge or two.  I use 3M "fine" grit sanding sponges, which are intended for automotive use.  "Fine" is really, for miniature purposes, really more of a medium and, since these sponges hold a grit pretty well, as they dull down, they work well for successively finer work.  These are a little pricey but, in my opinion, worth the extra money; they last a long time, serve variable purposes, can take the place of multiple grits in many situations, and are excellent wet or dry.  If you buy them on Amazon, you can save as much as 40% off list.
8. Brushes.  Michael's actually sells some very high quality craft brushes for cheap.
9. Testors "dullcote" spray.
10. Water, and, if you're using enamels (as opposed to water based modeling paint), thinner.

Your first step is to separate all the pieces from the sprue, assemble them where necessary, and sand off any odd bits.  The little circles on the baking sheets, etc are almost impossible to completely remove; don't worry about it.  This is only a problem if you want brand new-looking cookware (and you can fix it; I'll get to that in a later post).

Depending on whether you want copper or aluminum, spray your pieces appropriately.  You'll be the happiest with your results if you work in successive thin coats.  Once you've gotten the coverage you want, LET YOUR PIECES DRY OVERNIGHT.  This applies also to situations where you have to spray one side and flip it over--i.e. the baking pans.  I usually leave about 6 hours' dry time in between, then let everything sit for a day or two.

For the aluminum pieces: using a q-tip, or a square of toilet paper where appropriate, buff each piece to a shine.  The metalizers can be a little tricky to work with; if you get too over-enthusiastic and buff off all your paint (hard, but possible to do), just spray it again and repeat the same process.  It's really necessary to buff; not only does it really transform the piece into something real-looking, un-buffed metalizer sheds like crazy.  It's attracted to the oil on your fingertips much the same way fingerprint powder is.  I learned the hard way, wash your hands thoroughly after you've finished buffing.  I've ended up accidentally leaving silvery fingerprints on more than one stove part.

Some aluminum pieces in various stages of buffing.  The "cast iron" pieces have just been sprayed with flat black.  I like aluminum cookware; my grandparents' cabinets were full of pots and pans that looked just like this.

For the copper pieces: assuming you want your copper to look old, you want to spray it with a coat or two of "dullcote."  Basically, what this does is remove the shine.  It also provides a good base for the acrylic paints.  Sometimes, depending on your spraying environment, the thickness of the coats, etc, you can end up getting a kind of cloudy effect which, depending on your ultimate goals, might not be desirable.  One way to avoid this is to, first, spray your copper with a gloss coat (Testors calls it "glosscote" and it's pretty good stuff) and, once that's dry, spray it once or twice with the "dullcote."

 

Successive thin coats are best.

Starting with the aluminum, paint the insides of the pans with successive washes of burnt sienna.  My own technique is to paint the wash and--working quickly--dab off the excess with a q-tip.  This creates a more realistically "gross" effect.  In my washes, I try to concentrate my paint in areas where goo would accrete.  

Then, going sparingly--you can always add more--darken some areas with successive washes of lamp black.  I went more heavily in some areas (the inside of the muffin tins, for example) than others.  The edges and corners--like in the baking sheet--got a fairly heavy treatment, too.  I've found that what works best for this is to use a fine angled brush and pull a line down as far into the crevice as you can.  then, you can blur the line either with a q-tip or with a second small (dry) brush.  Keep going until your pans are satisfactorily disgusting.

Pay special attention to areas that'd be discolored by burnt food, oils, etc.

Remember the hard to reach places like corners, under and around handles, etc.  Also, some areas (like the insides of muffin tins) seem to get more disgusting than others.  Or maybe only in my kitchen?

For the copper, start by painting the insides of the pieces black.  I find that this is really where the "dullcote" makes a difference; it gives the paint something to adhere to.  I did several coats on the insides of the pots, baking dish and coffee pot, but only a couple of thin coats (addled by q-tips) on the insides of the pans.

Then, when I did the outsides, I thought about--again--where copper pots naturally discolor.  I paid special attention to the area under the lip, the area around the handles and, of course, the undersides of the pots where they'd be sitting on the burners.

The "baked on grossness" look is created with q-tips.

I also used a q-tip to stipple the black on the insides of the pots.

Some areas--like the lids--didn't get much treatment at all, since, in real life, these don't tend to get too dirty.  Also, for example, the actual handles, since constant grabbing would keep them pretty grime-free (and oils on your hands, which rub off on the metal, prevent discoloration to some extent).  The important thing to remember is that successful aging involves contrast.  Grimy areas are interesting, because they're next to comparatively clean areas.

This isn't the best picture ever, but you can get a sense of where I added the black.

This can be kind of a long process.  My husband read me an entire (long) article about the politics of the moose lottery while I worked on the copper pots.  It's a really good activity, I think, for when you're watching TV, or stuck inside on a rainy day, and want something relatively simple--but also absorbing--to work on.

If you want to age your cast iron, what I personally think works best is Testors acrylic "rust."  Trust me, you want your washes to be water-based.  The pan on the left has been sprayed flat black; the pan on the right, after being sprayed flat black, was given a couple washes of rust.  I concentrated the color on one side more than the other, theorizing that my dolls' cast iron pans don't age any more equally than mine.  I also like to have pots, pans, etc in various stages of revoltingness in my dolls' kitchens; after all, in real life, not every pan was purchased at the same time, gets the same amount of use, is of the same quality, etc.

So there you have it: gross pans.  I'm also working on some other colors and styles, so hopefully I'll have some more pictures to post soon.

What I've Learned From My Mistakes

Don't spray paint in the rain.  Or in the almost-rain.  Or in 99% humidity.  Your metallics will be dull and blotchy, your stoves will fog over.  Although, as we've seen, sometimes mistakes are a blessing in disguise.  In fact, I'm pretty sure this is true in almost every area of life...

The same day I did the blue cook stove, I also sprayed some copper pots.  Which, well, came out looking like something one of my neighbors might dig up out of his root cellar and sell the tourists as an "antique."  So with a little creative craft paint ("Americana" brand craft paint in burnt sienna and lamp black), I went with the "old and gross" theme.

USE MULTIPLE FINE COATS!!!  I thought I already knew this advice.  I mean, duh.  Most of us have been at this for years, and "fine coats" seems like really Mickey Mouse advice.  DO NOT BE FOOLED.  When it comes to spray enamels, flat colors are very forgiving.  Gloss colors are not.  And, I've discovered, the lighter the color, the worse the coverage.  My first few tries with the Testors light ivory were disasters; my paint came out gloppy, or obscured the detail.  I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong.  Then, after wasting about 20 bucks worth of paint, talking it over with some of my hobbyist friends, and visiting a hobby forum, I learned the following rules:

1.  Shake the can for at least 5 minutes.  I'm not kidding.  Shake that baby like there's no tomorrow, then shake it some more.  And start with a new can.  If you've got a can that's, like, half gone and you haven't been mixing things up, well, um, it won't ever mix properly.
2. MIST COATS, dude.  This shouldn't take you two coats, it should take you more like ten.  The finer and more frequent the coats, the happier you'll be with the results.
3. DO NOT SPRAY ON HUMID DAYS.

Face it, sometimes you just need to use spray paint.  Like, take the pot belly stove, for example.  The sprayed-on enamel more closely resembles enameled cast iron, so you're going to get a better result.  Comparing these two pot belly stoves, I think the ivory one looks a lot more realistic than the green one.

The hair-thin black edges and slightly pebbly texture add realism.

Even with a spray coat over it (Testors "glosscote"), it just doesn't look quite as good.

Oh, yeah, and it's counter-intuitive, but glossy varnish looks better than matte varnish.  It also contrasts much more nicely with the flat black.  Or, at least, I think so.

If you don't want your finish to look pebbly, well, there's a sanding sponge for that and I'll talk about it (if anyone's interested) when I do the parlor stove.  Also known as The Kit From Hell, but that's another story.  Anyway, moving on...

Speaking of which, some mistakes are liberating but some are just depressing.  If it's become a stone around your neck, don't be demoralized; throw it out.  I've thrown out quite a few kits, but I can't really say my money or time was wasted.  I learned a lot.  If every project you try comes out perfect, then you're not stretching yourself and you'll never get better.  Don't be afraid to waste materials, screw up, and look like an idiot.  Within reason, of course; I don't think this stove would make much of a hat.  Or work well as underpants.

Think outside the box, color-wise.  This is your house, do what you want with it.  Just because the folks at Dee's Delights who now produce Chrysnbon made it out of black polystyrene, doesn't mean it has to be black.  Back in the day, people were, I think, a lot more creative with color.  Some of this had to do with the fact that, sans electric light, duller colors were really just lost.  The reason why all that wallpaper was virulently red, black, etc was so it'd show up in gaslight.  And people weren't afraid to go all out, either.  Why can't your pot belly stove be purple?  I've seen antique examples that were aqua, blue, every color under the rainbow.  And even if nobody ever painted it that color before, who cares?

Sometimes gluing two already-painted pieces together causes an ugly colored blob to ooze out.  You can get rid of it by dipping a small angled brush into thinner, then carefully brushing out the seam.  Quickly brush off any excess thinner, to prevent it from eating the surrounding paint.  Repeat the process until it's all gone--and, if all else fails, remember that you can always sand it out and repaint it if you have to.

Wet sanding is key.

Don't spray paint outside.  Even if you're not near a tree--and I can't tell you how many little tree parts I've found embedded in my projects--you're still not safe.  Dude, a bird pooped on the red cook stove.  Invest in a hood, if you can afford it, otherwise try to spray somewhere that's well-ventilated but at least somewhat covered.

One trick I used, when I had to spray outside, was to, as soon as I finished spraying, immediately put a piece of cardboard over my spray box.  Gloss paints stay tacky a LOT longer than flat paints, so keep this in mind.

Stay organized.  All those little bits and pieces can take over your work area, room, and house really quickly.  My family's really tolerant but, um, still.  In college, one of my roommates painted Warhammer figurines and everyone was always stepping on something.  I got out of the shower, put my foot on the mat and got a spear through the webbing between my toes; he was furious that I'd ruined his guy.  What I wanted to know was, why was it in the bathroom in the first place?

Pot Belly Stoves Don't Have To Be, Either!

Black, that is.

As with the cook stoves, these paint jobs are inspired by real stoves.  I have no actual houses to put them in yet, and am not entirely sure where they'd fit, anyway.  But this is a fun kit to make, and inexpensive, so I figured it was OK to experiment.

I saw a full-sized one in this color, and thought it was beautiful.  After assembly, I sprayed the whole thing with Testors light ivory.  The pad is Testors flat black, and the metal is, predictably, Testors metallic gold.  This is not an ad for Testors, I promise.  I also like Delta Ceramcoat acrylic craft paint.  And Nutella.  Heh.

Here, I used Model Master interior blue/green.  It came out a little more pastel than I'd envisioned, but I like it.   The shiny bits are Testors stainless steel "metalizer" and, of course, the rest of the "cast iron" is Testors flat black.

And here's the plain old vanilla model (this time without rust):

And, finally, with stainless steel dressy bits:

I think I may use this one in the not-Lincoln.

Too pastel?

Mr. Awesome enjoyed watching me take these pictures.  He's a good mascot.  And, just the other day, he got his first tooth!

And that's all there is, folks.

The Chrysnbon Cook Stove: Antiqued and Fabulous

The inspiration for this stove came from two sources: Burlington, ME and a mistake.  I saw a really wonderful stove for sale, where the body and neck were the most fantastic blue, and I thought "I can do that."  Well, as it turned out, I probably could've, but impatience, weather, and a few mini disasters intervened.  I'm glad they did, as I much prefer what I ended up with.  You can make your own judgments and, of course, antique as much or as little (or not at all) as you wish.

Since metalizers take awhile to dry--and shed!--I usually do that step first, then put my "metal" pieces aside for a time when I can concentrate on them, and know I won't be touching anything else.  I've had too many silvery fingerprints (from what I thought were well-scrubbed fingers) appear on matte black surfaces!

Metalizers like the oil in your skin, and will adhere to it--much like fingerprint powder.  Now, of course, you don't have to use metalizers; plain old metallic paint will work fine.  I particularly like the Testors metallic silver paint, although I prefer the spray version.  With most of the metallic colors, I've found that the sprays coat more evenly.

"Aluminum plate" versus Chrysnbon-flavored "silver metal."

The paint I found, that I decided to use--that was almost the right color--was Nassau blue metallic.  Which, if you like cars, you know was popular on the Corvette in '65 and '66.  My original plan was to spray the blue bits of the stove (after priming, and sanding where necessary) and then, later, to seal them with a topcoat of Testors "dullcote."  Which, as the name implies, is a mattifying spray.  Below, you can see the difference between the body of the stove and the door, with and without it.

Shiny stove body, dull door.

 I taped off the inside of the stove with masking tape, so that wouldn't turn blue, too.

Right color, wrong finish.

Then, well, I got over-enthusiastic.  See, I really, really wanted to work on this stove.  And I'd just started with the Chrysnbon kits, and had (and have) a world of mistakes in front of me.  Long story short, even though it was raining--so, like, 100% humidity--I went ahead and sprayed on my "dullcote" anyway.  And, extreme duh, it fogged right up.  See the difference, below.

Note: if this happens to you, and you don't want it to happen, or aren't willing to work with the project as it's become, you can usually salvage your piece by waiting for it to dry--and dry and dry--and then (on a suitably hot, humidity-free day) spraying on a glossy coat.  For whatever reason, this usually eliminates fog.

But in my case, I decided to press on.  Because, well, it wasn't what I'd intended...but it looked really cool, nevertheless.

I had to tape off the bottom portion, so I could re-spray the top.  This was another (just plain dumb) mistake I made: not checking that the pipe was adequately blackened before gluing it on.  I mean, it worked out in the end, but still.

And here's the body, before I started antiquing:

For the antiquing process, I used black craft paint.  I usually buy Delta Ceramcoat, but they're all kind of the same thing.  I painted on successive layers, using plenty of water, and dabbing off the excess with a q-tip.  Which, by the way, q-tips are the greatest craft invention ever.  What I found was that, to get the effect I wanted, I needed to use successive thin coats and, slowly, accrete "grime"--just like what happens in real life.

About halfway there.

After I'd completed a few layers and let them dry, I took a dullish piece of sanding sponge and brushed it over the highlights.  I pressed just hard enough to remove the "grime," but not hard enough to remove the actual color.

I periodically checked the body with the door, to make sure that both looked equally aged--and like they belonged together.

Then I let everything dry overnight.  My family actually wanted to, you know, see me anyway.  Funny thing, that.

By the way, I have a couple of construction notes.  One is, glue the upper part of the stove to the stove top first, before you attempt to attach either to the stove body.  Preferably, clamp the two together--I glue them together as soon as I have both painted--and let the seam dry overnight.  Otherwise, in my experience, anyway, the two pieces never fit together completely right.  And, being a perfectionist, I want an utterly flush, neat seam.

A few days later, when I had more time to work on the project, I glued on the back.

And taped it in place.  Be careful where you use masking tape; it's usually fine on matte finishes, but will pull metallic finishes right off the plastic.  Getting the stove body square--at whatever point in the project you assemble it--can be a challenge.

While that was setting, I aged the pad.  Basically, I stippled it with the same black, in layers, until it looked suitably revolting.

The weakness in this kit is the feet.  I don't understand why it couldn't be constructed like the pot belly stove, where the feet slot into the body--thus ensuring both alignment and stability.  Really, this stove has neither so you have to be careful.  I usually go in this order of assembly: back to cook top, body sub-assembly, attach hardware, back/cook top sub-assembly to body sub-assembly, upper pipe to collar, upper pipe/collar to stove unit, and FEET LAST.

This is the method I've found works the best: first, flip the stove over (I usually rest it on a can of spray paint, or something similar), and glue in the feet.  Let them set for an hour or two, but no longer.  This glue sets in four hours.  You want the feet stable enough so they don't fall apart when you try to fit them into the pad, but not so firmly in place that you can't push and pull them a little.  Because if you just glue them in and let them dry, your pad will NOT fit.

Here, I let the feet set for about two hours, then fitted the pad on.  I used a couple paint pots to weigh them (very lightly) in place and let this attractive setup cure overnight.  Then, the next day, after everything was dry, I glued the feet into the pad.

When griming up the stove, I thought about where, naturally, dirt, oil, etc would occur, where it would collect.  Some spots are easier to clean than others--and some just look more disgusting, year after year.

Since this is (in my magical pretend world) still a regularly used stove, it's free of rust, etc.  I wanted it to be old and gross, but still well-maintained.  Which is why the cooking surface itself is still reasonably clean.

And here's where I learned about the sub-assembly issue.  Here, I'd assembled everything in the right order but not let it dry long enough.  Impatience, once again rearing its ugly head.  I solved the problem with a minor amount of Testors putty.  It tends to dry and get crumbly very quickly, so if you want a little more dexterity, squeeze some onto your palette and mix it with a tiny amount of thinner.  It'll stay malleable a lot longer (you can always dip your brush in more thinner, but go sparingly), and squeeze into small joints much more easily.

Once this was dry, I sanded it down--very carefully--and painted over it with a combination of Testors flat black and black craft paint (one after the other).  It was pretty tricky, but since I couldn't touch it up with the blue, which is available only in spray form, I decided that this would be another really grimy area.  Which, of course, in real life, it would be.

In the meantime, my Artograph 1530 came, and we set it up.

I didn't spray it, I just kept it in here for safekeeping while it dried.

Fun with safety!  Mr. Awesome, Sr. tries on my respirator.  Which, there are only so many times you can get high spraying varnish (even outdoors) before, dude, it gets old.  A decent respirator costs as little as 35 bucks and saves brain cells.  I need all of mine!

And, clearly, so does my husband.

And then it was done...

And now, a brief pictorial presentation of why I live in Maine.  These were all taken in my, well, I guess what you'd call a "neighborhood."  I've spared you the endless pictures of creatively maintained trailers, sheep, and hubcaps.

So there you have it, folks.  I hope that, if you end up making a stove, you're happy with it.  This is kind of a challenging kit, but worth the effort.  There just aren't that many decent stoves out there, particularly for "smaller" 1:12 scales.  If you're doing a larger 1:12 scale house, though, and have absolutely no desire to make your own stove, Reutter Porzellan's cook stove is really lovely and, if you've got the money, worth the price tag.