English Audio Request

English / Model-making by Olafo on June 9, 2020 3 Words / 3 Recordings / 2 Comments Listen Record

Recordings

Model-making ( recorded by deleted ), unspecified accent




An error occurred loading the audio. You may need to reload the page. You are not logged in. This causes playback problems with some browsers. Please log in.

Download Unlock

Corrected Text

more↓

My job is model-making. I make small copies of large buildings and other structures. It might seem a strange job, but I knew when I was at school that it was what I wanted to do. So I did a college course, not in art or architecture as you might expect, but in woodwork. Because of the concentration on fine detail it requires, it was ideal for a model-maker. Although later, of course, I had to adapt my skills to other materials as well. When I make a model of an old building, often, original parts of the building have been damaged or even completely demolished over the years, so I have to work hard to find out what they must have been like. Actually, I think there's quite a lot in common between what I do and what a detective does ... tracking down clues, working things out...

I've done quite a few jobs now. The toughest commission I've ever had was from Ireland. I was asked to do a model of part of a large house which had burnt down years before. They just gave me a few old photos to use, as there was no actual building to copy. I've done all sorts of buildings since, everything from grand castles to the most ordinary farmhouse. The one I liked most, though, was where I had to rebuild a theatre. The original building was gone, but this time there were detailed drawings to work from. My model was then shown in an exhibition called 'All the World' s a Stage' here in London. It was fun because I could go and look at it every day if I wanted to; see how people were reacting to it. Generally, though, I don't see my models again after I've delivered them, as 80% of them are shipped out to Japan or Canada, with the rest shared between England and France. I do try to give pretty careful instructions, however, about how the models should be displayed. The height at which they should stand, how large the space around them should be, and also about lighting, because the colours and details come out most clearly if there' s electric light directly above them. Daylight's too pale.

And that's particularly true of my most recent project, a model of a very interesting old building called Marney House. The owners decided to open it to the public and wanted a model to display for visitors. The detail work was very challenging indeed, as I had to reduce the original to a model just one hundred and forty centimetres high, which is seventy-six times smaller than the real building... that's small, yet everything has to be there. It actually took longer than any model I've ever done before, mainly because I had to do all of the 150 windows... a real test of patience! There were times, to be honest, when I found myself regretting the fact that I'd ever taken the project on in the first place. On top of that, I had to make every single one of the thousands of roof tiles individually out of paper. Mind you, when I had finished that process, I knew the hardest part was over, and that the rest would be quite fun. Doing things like the statues along the front was enjoyable, because every one's different... and I spent some happy hours playing around with colours to get the exact reproduction of the original interior walls. When I'd finished all that, the only remaining problem was that, of course, the whole thing looked like a model of a new building. So I did what I usually do, which is to carefully wash the outside of the model with watercolour, so that it looks as if, over the years, it's been affected by wind and rain, and also pollution, of course. The owners were very pleased with the result, and I'm glad I can go and see it from time to time. Model-making is a great job, and I'd recommend it to anyone with patience and an eye for detail.

Model-making ( recorded by Owain78 ), London, Neapolitan




An error occurred loading the audio. You may need to reload the page. You are not logged in. This causes playback problems with some browsers. Please log in.

Download Unlock

Corrected Text

more↓

My job is model-making. I make small copies of large buildings and other structures. It might seem a strange job, but I knew when I was at school that it was what I wanted to do. So I did a college course, not in art or architecture as you might expect, but in woodwork. Because of the concentration on fine detail it requires, it was ideal for a model-maker. Although later, of course, I had to adapt my skills to other materials as well. When I make a model of an old building, often original parts of the building have been damaged or even completely demolished over the years, so I have to work hard to find out what they must have been like. Actually, I think there's quite a lot in common between what I do and what a detective does ... tracking down clues, working things out...

I've done quite a few jobs now. The toughest commission I've ever had was from Ireland. I was asked to do a model of part of a large house which had burnt down years before. They just gave me a few old photos to use, as there was no actual building to copy. I've done all sorts of buildings since, everything from grand castles to the most ordinary farmhouse. The one I liked most, though, was where I had to rebuild a theatre. The original building was gone, but this time there were detailed drawings to work from. My model was then shown in an exhibition called 'All the World' s a Stage' here in London. It was fun because I could go and look at it every day if I wanted to; see how people were reacting to it. Generally, though, I don't see my models again after I've delivered them, as 80% of them are shipped out to Japan or Canada, with the rest shared between England and France. I do try to give pretty careful instructions, however, about how the models should be displayed. The height at which they should stand, how large the space around them should be, and also about lighting, because the colours and details come out most clearly if there' s electric light directly above them. Daylight's too pale.

And that's particularly true of my most recent project, a model of a very interesting old building called Marney House. The owners decided to open it to the public and wanted a model to display for visitors. The detailed work was very challenging indeed, as I had to reduce the original to a model just one hundred and forty centimetres high, which is seventy-six times smaller than the real building... that's small, yet everything has to be there. It actually took longer than any model I've ever done before, mainly because I had to do all of the 150 windows... a real test of patience! There were times, to be honest, when I found myself regretting the fact that I'd ever taken the project on in the first place. On top of that, I had to make every single one of the thousands of roof tiles individually out of paper. Mind you, when I had finished that process, I knew the hardest part was over, and that the rest would be quite fun. Doing things like the statues along the front was enjoyable, because every one's different... and I spent some happy hours playing around with colours to get the exact reproduction of the original interior walls. When I'd finished all that, the only remaining problem was that, of course, the whole thing looked like a model of a new building. So I did what I usually do, which is to carefully wash the outside of the model with watercolour, so that it looks as if, over the years, it's been affected by wind and rain, and also pollution, of course. The owners were very pleased with the result, and I'm glad I can go and see it from time to time. Model-making is a great job, and I'd recommend it to anyone with patience and an eye for detail.

Model-making ( recorded by Owain78 ), London, Neapolitan




An error occurred loading the audio. You may need to reload the page. You are not logged in. This causes playback problems with some browsers. Please log in.

Download Unlock

Corrected Text

more↓

My job is model-making. I make small copies of large buildings and other structures. It might seem a strange job, but I knew when I was at school that it was what I wanted to do. So I did a college course, not in art or architecture as you might expect, but in woodwork. Because of the concentration on fine detail it requires, it was ideal for a model-maker. Although later, of course, I had to adapt my skills to other materials as well. When I make a model of an old building, often original parts of the building have been damaged or even completely demolished over the years, so I have to work hard to find out what they must have been like. Actually, I think there's quite a lot in common between what I do and what a detective does ... tracking down clues, working things out...

I've done quite a few jobs now. The toughest commission I've ever had was from Ireland. I was asked to do a model of part of a large house which had burnt down years before. They just gave me a few old photos to use, as there was no actual building to copy. I've done all sorts of buildings since, everything from grand castles to the most ordinary farmhouse. The one I liked most, though, was where I had to rebuild a theatre. The original building was gone, but this time there were detailed drawings to work from. My model was then shown in an exhibition called 'All the World' s a Stage' here in London. It was fun because I could go and look at it every day if I wanted to; see how people were reacting to it. Generally, though, I don't see my models again after I've delivered them, as 80% of them are shipped out to Japan or Canada, with the rest shared between England and France. I do try to give pretty careful instructions, however, about how the models should be displayed. The height at which they should stand, how large the space around them should be, and also about lighting, because the colours and details come out most clearly if there' s electric light directly above them. Daylight's too pale.

And that's particularly true of my most recent project, a model of a very interesting old building called Marney House. The owners decided to open it to the public and wanted a model to display for visitors. The detailed work was very challenging indeed, as I had to reduce the original to a model just one hundred and forty centimetres high, which is seventy-six times smaller than the real building... that's small, yet everything has to be there. It actually took longer than any model I've ever done before, mainly because I had to do all of the 150 windows... a real test of patience! There were times, to be honest, when I found myself regretting the fact that I'd ever taken the project on in the first place. On top of that, I had to make every single one of the thousands of roof tiles individually out of paper. Mind you, when I had finished that process, I knew the hardest part was over, and that the rest would be quite fun. Doing things like the statues along the front was enjoyable, because every one's different... and I spent some happy hours playing around with colours to get the exact reproduction of the original interior walls. When I'd finished all that, the only remaining problem was that, of course, the whole thing looked like a model of a new building. So I did what I usually do, which is to carefully wash the outside of the model with watercolour, so that it looks as if, over the years, it's been affected by wind and rain, and also pollution, of course. The owners were very pleased with the result, and I'm glad I can go and see it from time to time. Model-making is a great job, and I'd recommend it to anyone with patience and an eye for detail.