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| "Land Dragon w/ Lancer" by Ral Partha, ca. 1978 |
The dragon's eyes bored into mine.
They were yellow, slitted vertically with a black line. They glistened with
illusory wetness, glaring above an open pink maw which was filled with ivory
fangs. Ropey strands of saliva hung perpetually from those savage jaws, and the
beast reared back on clawed feet forming a threatening, scaly S. Brown wings
tinted with gold flecks sprouted from the dragon's ridged back, ready to launch
it into the air to rain fire down upon anyone foolish enough to covet its
heaping horde.
I
gazed upon this tiny beast of legend with the eyes of an eleven year old boy,
and when I looked down into the display case at all the grey, unpainted lead
figurines for sale I felt a surge of creative hunger. So many forms were echoes
of the beasts and heroes I had worshipped as a youngster. There lay a skeleton
that conjured the sounds of a battle brought to life by the immortal Ray
Harryhausen in the Sinbad films. In
the next tray over, a knight upon an armored horse, looking like he had just
left the tourney in Ivanhoe. Orcs,
goblins, elves, dwarves, vikings, and things which I could not readily name, called
to me with the voice of a Mediterranean siren.
The
man behind the counter answered my questions. They were simple enough.
"How much do these cost?" "What kind of paint do you
use?" I chose a dragon, naturally.
But not one with wings to threaten the countryside. I chose a wingless dragon.
It had a long, lean form and a tail which ended in a large, flat,
diamond-shaped spade. It sported a saddle as well as a bit and bridle. These
accessories were to accommodate the knight sitting astride the beast. He wore a
breast plate and chainmail armor, as well as a conical helmet. A metal rod topped
with a sculpted bit of feathers and a pointy tip served as the warrior's lance.
I took it home, intent on bringing it to life with the application of some
paint.
Looking
back, I am forced to smile at my utter incompetence. To be fair, I had
discovered an extremely young hobby. I wasn't inept. I was simply uneducated.
But then, so was everyone else. The gentleman who owned the small hobby store
from whence I had purchased my new obsession had a truly awe-inspiring
collection of heroes and monsters. The gold and brown rampant dragon that first
caught my eye was only one of dozens that he had painted. I'm not entirely
positive that he was self-taught, but the likelihood is high since published
material on the subject was limited to discussions of classic toy soldiers and
military modeling. The companies that produced these curios of fantasy were in
their infancy, and their creations were sculpted by artists that were the best
in their day, which is to say they could convincingly render a tiny shape that
was recognizable as whatever they happened to be sculpting.
I
sat at the desk in my bedroom at home and studied the model. The saddle would
need to be brown, as would the reins and the boots on the knight. His little
face was the only human skin showing, but the bulk of the dragon was smooth
reptilian flesh unadorned by scales or bony ridges. The dragon's mouth was set
in a leering grin, showing rows of tightly packed pointed teeth. The bit
protruded from the back corners of the beast's maw. The underside of the
dragon's neck and belly were parallel bands of skin separated from each other
and from the upper portion of the body. They would need to be a different
color.
I
had learned about the color wheel in art class, but the whole concept of color
theory was an arcana reserved for "real" artists. I reached under my
bed and produced an old shoe box that was filled with small glass jars of
Testor's model paints. My grandfather had purchased the box at an auction and I
had used its contents to decorate everything from World War II fighters to
hotrod cars. I removed a few colors I thought might work, a larger jar of paint
thinner, and a couple of truly horrid brushes. I placed some paper towels on my
desk, strained to twist the lid of some of the more venerable paints, and set
to work.
When
it was done I saw my little dragon knight. He glimmered in metallic silver and
gold. His face was the color of a peach crayon, and his triangle of a beard was
the same brown as his boots (and the saddle, and the ground the dragon strode
across). The dragon's skin had an interesting look to it; a pale, jade green
with a silvery tint. This, I would later learn, was due to the fact that I had
painted a transparent gloss paint over bare, un-primed metal. The beast's belly
was a flat, dull yellow, and his claws and teeth were a shining white.
I
was thrilled! Afterward, as I returned home with more and more pieces, I began to
try different things. I mixed paint to create new colors. I thinned it so that
it would run down into recessed areas, shading them. I learned that all paint
is not created equal, nor are all brushes. I discovered the joy of painting
with acrylic, water soluble paints.
It
has been thirty-two years since I first held a white metal miniature in my
hand. In August of this year, for the third year in a row, I entered a national-level competition. The
first year I got nothing. Last year I won a silver medal. This year, a bronze.
Next year... well, we shall see. I have some really cool ideas.
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