Alex Francavilla - Week 12 - Smaller and Smaller
The concept of a museum is an honestly baffling concept: at some point in time, some guy decided to dedicate an entire building to show a bunch of objects to other people. And we’re all just…okay with that? I could step outside of my house right now, walk for two hours, and arrive at a collection of video cameras and studio equipment that were used to create movies alongside the world-famous silent film actor Charlie Chaplin.
Any person that has known me for any meaningful length of time would be able to (correctly) guess that, above all, I’m an absolute sucker for science museums. But no matter what kind of museum I’m in, there’s a pretty good chance you’ll see me staring at a diorama.
The main appeal of dioramas for me is the sheer amount of detail put into replicating a scene to near complete accuracy. I often find myself spending several minutes for each one, and for a good reason. The artist’s deliberation in every blade of artificial grass, fake tree branch, and taxidermied beetle must not go unnoticed and the burden has fallen upon me personally to appreciate every single one. What could possibly be better than dioramas?
That’s not a rhetorical question. The answer is smaller dioramas.
Well-crafted scaled-down dioramas (or any handmade scale model, for that matter) reflect the creator’s dedication to accuracy to an even higher degree. I can almost see them hunched over a magnifying lamp, holding a tiny person or adobe house or cow in one hand and a fine tip paintbrush in the other, painting and repainting details that go unnoticed by the standard observer. It’s almost an acceptance in futility, repeating a near meaningless task for dozens of real life days worth of time to create a work of art only to be appreciated by those who care enough to spend time out of their own lives to stare at a few millimeters tall chicken.
For me, making small things with excruciating detail serves a more practical purpose of demonstrating my expertise in creating the same thing. Few people see it except for myself, and the only true joy I get out of doing it is the feeling of satisfaction, not because I now have a small object, but because I have gone through the process of creating a small object.
Alex, I loved reading your blog.
ReplyDeleteI loved the humor—specifically the "not a rhetorical question" part.
I also love the fact you appreciate the effort and intricacies of dioramas. I ,for one, def do not hold this same appreciation you do for museums, though I think I relate when it comes to appreciating little things.
Your first paragraph really puts light to how blessed we are. Also in your first paragraph, you mention Charlie Chaplin, which I think is Niles-related, so naturally I am going to ask you if you have ever been to Bronco Billy's. If not, I IMPLORE YOU to go try their pizza. It is genuinely some of the best stuff in the area.
I thoroughly enjoyed the imagery you created of a person hunched over when they're working; it lwk reminded me of a Bruce Banner or Tony Stark type scene where they're creating some surreal invention.
I think the last line of your blog is poetic on a multitude of levels. I'm kind of reading from a "it's not about the destination, it's about the journey" type vibe, if that makes sense. I think the process we go through to accomplish stuff is just as–if not more—than the stuff mentioned. I also just now noticed that you literally used the word process.
A bit unrelated, and a little bit alternatively, but this makes me think about when I used to have an unrealistic practice schedule for cricket: mornings, after schools, and nights. I'm thinking about how much I enjoyed the grind, but also how I enjoyed the benefits of all the hard work.
Wow, this blog is truly making me think.
I think personally, it's more of a two-sided coin.
Alex, thank you for sharing such a detailed and personal story. I love the fact you appreciate dioramas; the world needs more people like you.
Also, I really like your vocab; i'd be lying if I didn't have to Google the word "taxidermied."
Not necessarily dioramas, but I love models of things that I can hold in my hand. As you said, the intricate detail in something so small makes it all the more meaningful, and I am diligent in carrying my burden of appreciation—as are you.
ReplyDeleteI also really liked reading the last sentence of your blog. Since I’m not very artistically talented, I don’t necessarily create art for the result, but because I enjoy the process. My small objects aren’t very pretty (unlike yours—I think yours look awesome), but I still love making them.
Lastly, I love how you point out the details in things that we may take for granted. All your blogs are filled with details, from your science olympiad events to the seeming absurdity of museums. This blog particularly focuses on those details, and I think it’s something you’ve always been good at highlighting. Reading your work has even given me a greater appreciation for the smaller intricacies in the things around me. Thanks Alex! I really liked your blog.
Like you I also enjoy gazing at dioramas in museums, seeing the amount of detail that goes into replicating one specific event. It really goes to show how significant an event had to be in order to be so specifically documented. Though also like you, dioramas hold a special place in my heart.
ReplyDeleteAfter my fish died (yes it sounds very stupid but just listen) our house was left with an empty 60 gallon tank and an abandoned little yellow submarine. For a while I never realized how depressing it felt to look at it until my mom replaced it with a little “winter wonderland” diorama she made for December. It instantly brightened up the area, both literally and metaphorically since she added the brightest LED lights known to mankind.
However, it showed the power of changing your perspective, which I believe is the point of a diorama. Dioramas give multiple perspectives on the same event, to look at it from a bird’s eye view, without any bias. Which is likely why, as you remarked, they are found so often in museums.
OHMYGOD DIORAMASSSS. I completely forgot these existed but I am now shaking with artistic inspiration. I will say though, you practically brushed over the fact that there’s a Charlie Chaplin/old film museum thing in your area (lucky). But as someone who has made dioramas before, I’ve honestly never thought about appreciating it in the way you described. And I was completely gobsmacked when you said that smaller dioramas are even better---but I completely agree. I don’t know when, where, or how I started believing that something of grander scale equates to more impressive, but there’s a lot of good that comes in small packages. Last semester (I think), we were studying the Book of Kells and learning to make illuminated letters based on its designs. The Book of Kells is a beautifully illustrated…well, book that is extremely important to Irish cultural heritage---and the designs are so, so, so small. But that’s what made it beautiful (in addition to the fact that illuminated letters are illuminated letters because the inks had an “illuminating” quality to them). But I will be appreciating dioramas (and small things) more often now!
ReplyDeleteAlex, the concept of a museum is indeed baffling, but also very much joy-inducing. Who wouldn’t want to venture to a building solely dedicated to a curated collection of things? Also, I can’t believe that such a museum about movie equipment is so close to us!
ReplyDeleteI looooove detailed diorama scenes, and I absolutely enjoy smaller scaled things even more!! I love the subtle humor you put into your blogs and the little captions that make me chuckle, it just makes every so much livelier and I appreciate that. Even if the notion of making tinier and tinier objects is inherently, completely useless (which I’ve lamented during my time making miniatures and obsessing over details), it still holds inexplicable emotional value in the form of unadulterated happiness. As such, tediously toiling over models, scaled dioramas, and small things made for pleasure is simply a cup of tea that people enjoy, and definitely enjoy to see.
On the note of museums, though, have you seen Harvard’s collection of Blaschka glass model flora? The craftsmanship is simply stunning and represents the true pinnacle of attention to detail and commitment to realism in museum models, essentially transforming into the sacred treasure of scientific models.