As a young man, I used to build models. They could be cars, trucks, military vehicles or planes, no matter. I was really good at it, too. By the time I was 14 I could finish the most complex model sold in a day.
I think that was a little distressing to my mother who was bankrolling my hobby. Between the models, glue and paint it was beginning to add up. So one day she came back from the store with an unusual gift: A L’egg container.
If you don’t remember what these are, they were the egg-shaped container pantyhose came in. She gave it to me and said, “Here, make something out of this.”
Well, as anyone knows, hand me an oddball item and I’m going to take a crack at making something out of it. So I took it back to my room and started thinking what this plastic egg could be used for.
Coincidentally, I had just finished destroying a Tonka volkswagen a few days before. So I had the wheels from it. I playfully set the egg on them as I thought about what I could create. And there it was right before me… a new way to make models.
The first creation (pictured) was extremely primitive, at least by later standards. I didn’t really have a technique for making windows or how to cut ever changing angles and curves for interiors. It was basically a couple of small triangular shaped windows so you could look in the very blue interior that had a seat, steering wheel and engine from my cache of model parts.
I was fortunate to have this box of parts. And I’m not talking about a small box. It’s actually two huge boxes of parts that were left over from the models my three older brothers had put together, plus assorted parts from their slot car racing and model airplane flying days.
These boxes have moved with me over the intervening years. They finally received a very nice set of drawers for the parts, but they are still with me. And I still make these models.
It didn’t dawn on me until recently that they aren’t really models. They are actually “recycle art.” A lot of their materials are things that would have otherwise been thrown away — cardboard tubes, old ping pong balls, cardboard, knobs — whatever happened to catch my fancy.
The best things about these works of art is that they aren’t limited like models are. I have made highly complex designs which I think an engineer might marvel over. They can include things like working lights inside or have interior doors that can’t be opened once the whole thing is together, but I know they work.
I can and have spent months putting one of these things together, largely because their design elements take a while to figure out. Case in point, I have one in progress right now that’s actually made of one of those big Easter eggs with the clear top and colored bottom. The challenge right now is to mount landing gears on a double curved surface so that the two sets of wheels sit flat on the ground. And because I’m a stickler for making things seem plausible, the bomb bay door has to be able to open up as well when it’s sitting on a surface. Sounds simple, but it isn’t.
Where do the ideas come from? Out of my crazy head. Sometimes it will be a single item I found that sets off a design, like when I wanted to make a L’egg that could fire pop bottle rockets.
Other times, the inspiration can be a real vehicle, such as the Bell Airacuda that was flown in the 1930s. It looked too like something I would have designed. This one (pictured) was actually designed on a computer – the wing and tail are exact replicas of the real plane. The interior walls were created on the computer, too, as were the instrument panels. A whole new level of complexity for me. Just what I needed.
I have indeed tried other hobbies. I’ve done two oil paintings. I learned to juggle and spin plates. I even learned how to ride a unicycle once, but not while juggling. But nothing is quite as fun as just letting my imagination to create freely and without restraint. And these pieces of “recycle art” seem to fit the bill.
I know that when people visit the house, they are taken aback by the fact that these strange craft are displayed in the living room. But once I tell them what they are, they are simply amazed, not only at the ingenuity, but the level of detail. This is refreshing since I rarely think about them in these terms. I’ve been building them now for nearly 40 years and even when I’m running from my life from a failed relationship, these are the first things to get packed as I head out the door. Most artists will tell you that their creations are part of them. They’re like having children… the artist’s DNA is imprinted all over their work.
They don’t make L’egg containers any longer. Sad, I know. I assume that while they were a great gimmick, they must have been costly to produce. Fortunately, I have a stash of them. My mother would get a run in her stockings every other day it seems, so I think by last count I have 50 or so in stock. I scored another two dozen off ebay.com last year. So I’m set.
Well, there it is. My little hobby in a nutshell. Make that an eggshell.
Out on the Treasure Coast trying to solve my landing gear issues,
– Robb