The impersistence of memory

In preparation for the final assembly of the house, I decided to check that everything in the basement was finished and I could glue on the roof. I knew I had to fix lights in the rear corridor, since I am now definitely giving up on conventional lights. But that should only take a couple of hours.

How unreliable is memory! How great wishful thinking. I was genuinely convinced that the basement was finished before I moved it, but thinking back logically, of course I moved it because we were expecting guests - oh dear, two months ago! - and I had to clear the dining room table no matter what. Then I put the main house on top of the basement and have been working on it ever since, while the basement, as I see now, still needs a lot of work. Just look at it: things fixed with white tack, no mouldings, shelves still to put up on walls. How could I forget?

So today is the back-to-basement day. And since the basement is now on the floor and there is no way I am taking it back to the dining room table, the working position is not the most comfortable. I still prefer working on flat surfaces, so I unhinged the front walls and inserted nails to hang things on. In the unlikely case you don't know how to hammer tiny nails without crushing your fingers, here are two tricks.

Then it turned out that the skirting boards I have are ten centimeters shorter than the front. I haven't found a solution to it yet. Two pieces of skirting will look untidy. I have tried to make my own from card, but I am not happy with them either. I think I will need to buy 1:1 skirting.

In my desperation, I turned to skirting inside the rooms, for which I inescapably need to go down on my knees, and I can only do it for a short while. But what a difference it makes with moulding!

 

My drill ran out of juice as I was making holes for more nails and hooks. It is charging now. Perhaps I should call it a day.

The fourth wall

Like a theatre, a dollhouse takes away the fourth wall. We must be able to peep into the miniature world. Different dollhouse designs offer different solutions. My retro house, for instance, can be opened from both sides, the roof can be taken off, and the upper floor can be removed. My Playmobil house had no back wall. But most dollhouses have an open front, with or without protecting doors.

I have come to the stage in my work on the basement when I have hinged the fronts. Fronts allow some additional space for display; you can even make a separate fake room. For the basement, I have chosen to have natural fourth walls. But this is the last and only time when these can be viewed as walls, from this angle:

Working kitchen

Best kitchen

When I have put on the roof, the only way to see the fourth wall will be when the front is open:


The wall allows to display the array of kitchen utensils I made eight years ago for my very first kitchen (so far, white-tacked). I am still very proud of them. This way, you can see them much better than inside a crammed room.

Naming

Today I painted external side and back walls, which is not particularly photogenique, so I didn't bother to take pictures. It will be a long time before the back wall is attached, but it's done now, and it looks nice. The side walls will not be permanently attached either for some time, but even loosely attached they make it look a bit more finished.

As I was painting a couple of days ago, the house suddenly revealed its true name. As we know, the naming of cats is a serious matters, and it goes for all objects. Knowing the true name is an act of bonding and sometimes a sign of power. I tell myself that my house wants to be friends with me, therefore it has revealed its name.

It is Womble Hall. 

Wombles are characters from Elisabeth Beresford's children's books that were later made into television series. The Wombles' life philosophy is "Make Good Use of Bad Rubbish". The Wombles' signature song goes:

Making good use of the things that we find
Things that the everyday folks leave behind

(if you want all of it, it's here.)

This is exactly what my miniature-making credo is. Therefore my house will pay tribute to the spirit of Womblism: inventiveness, imagination and recycling.

From now on, no Downton Manor. From now on, Womble Hall.

The dangers of miniature hobby

When Julia gave me the kit for the miniature cabinet, she didn't know what dangerous path she was launching me on. I have during my whole life avoided any kind of gambling including party lotteries because I know that once I begin I could never stop. But I frequently go maniac about things, professional as well as hobbies, and I also get curious about things. So when I had read all about the x-acto House of Miniatures, I went on ebay and looked what was available. Too much. But five years of miniature passion have taught me something. I don't buy single objects, I look for lots. And my very first visit to ebay was a winner:

I don't know why the seller had set the price so low. Maybe they just wanted to get rid of it. One thing, the blue chair, was opened and half-assembled, very clumsily. The rest was in crushed, but unbroken boxes, with yellowish instruction sheets. If it's fake, it's skilful fake.But it's supposed to be from the 1970s. (Which was yesterday, but when I think closely, it was forty years ago. For someone like my granschildren it could just as well be 1770s).

The instruction sheets do not only have instructions, but very interesting cultural information about every piece, the period, the style, and about the collection. Together with some webpages on Chippendale and his contemporaries, my general education got a boost. But I have to visit V&A next time I am in London. I have neglected Chippendale.

I have promised myself not to buy more until I have finished everything that I have, and it will take some time. This furniture will also demand an environment. I cannot just squeeze it in my Victorian house. It has a very special grace.

Come back to check on my progress.

Half scale

In a comment to my previous post a fellow miniaturist asked whether I was sure about the half scale. She said she had similar furniture in 1:48. Here is a picture with a measuring stick:

Scales are tricky. I am not sure this furniture is in scale at all, but I can imagine that it is available in different sizes. Just as most of the manufactured dollhouse furniture is available in full scale (1:12), half scale, 1:48 and 1:144. The latter makes me dizzy, but I have just bought, in a large lot, a dollhouse for a dollhouse, which is 1:144, and I have already made some furniture for ut - will share soon.

In my modern house and in some room boxes I mix scales, mostly 1:12 and 1:16 (Lundby/Barton), and sometimes is works just fine, but sometimes it doesn't look natural. Eva Malmsten says in one of her books that if you make things yourself scale doesn't really matter as long as you are consistent. I won't miss a chance to put a lovely object into a house or box if it's slightly wrong scale; I will just find a way of placing it so that it melts in.

As I mentioned in the previous post, this is an excellent way to train your dollhouse eye.

Working space

In Sweden, I had my workroom in the basement where I didn't have to put everything away after I was finished for the day. I kept all my materials in old cutlery boxes and plastic containers, and I had my mitre box and all tools at hand. I don't have a hobby room here so my writing desk is also my work bench. To manage it, I have a shelf with Really Useful Boxes (honestly, it's the brand name).But as every miniaturist knows, your materials tend to grow out of proportion. My shelf is not as neat anymore.

Joining the club

In the beginning of March (2008) I joined the Swedish miniature-makers' discussion group, Miniatyrforumet. This was the first discussion group I joined outside my profession, and I was quite anxious about it. I had looked at the pictures and felt inadequate: here were all these people doing these wonderful things, and there I was with my amateurish attempts. I had uploaded my pictures on Flickr, mostly for myself to be able to watch in a sequence, but also for some close friends to share with. There are typically two reactions when you share a picture of a dollhouse (or show them in real life). Some people say: "How nice" and that's it. These are people without miniature eyeglasses. But there are people who immediately start asking how you made this ot that, and then you recognise a soul mate. (The most enthusiastic observer of my dollhouses was a young man who makes miniature railways). So the reason I wanted to join the group was to share my work with someone equally engaged. I swallowed my pride and wrote a self-presentation on the forum and posted some pictures. And guess how much response I received! Dollhouse people are surely the most friendly people in the world (but if you are reading this you know it). I even got acclaim from my role model Eva Malmsten. This boosted my energy, and I have ever since read and posted on the forum regularly, getting ideas and sharing ideas.

There are hundreds of dollhouse communities in Britain, but I have never tried to find any. It's far too intimidating.

Spelling issues

By the way, I have decided to spell "dollhouse" solid, and until recently I wasn't really sure what the correct spelling was, because you can see it spelled dollhouse, doll house, dolls' house etc. Someone has recently posted this very useful link from Wikipedia, that explains that all are equally correct, and as usual it is British and American that cannot agree among themselves. I have chosen the American, not because of any prejudice or bias, but simply because it is easieer to handle. Not least when it's an adjective, as in "dollhouse furniture".