By This is a continuation of the discussion about model trains.
Last time, the main focus was on larger scale models like HO gauge, O gauge, and even G gauge (which I first learned about from Anno’s article), largely because the train model videos that come up on Instagram are predominantly from American model train enthusiasts, and they all revolve around larger models.
Personally, I wasn’t particularly drawn to larger models.
The Astonishing Precision of Märklin’s Z Gauge Steam Locomotive
The first model train I ever saw in person was not an HO gauge or O gauge, nor even the standard N gauge in Japan, but rather a steam locomotive from Märklin’s Z gauge, a long-established German model train manufacturer. It was astonishingly small and intricate. Märklin’s model trains make extensive use of metal cast parts. While N gauge models tend to have a strong plastic feel (which may be a misconception, I apologize), Märklin’s approach is somewhat different. Although the size is extremely small, leading to significant simplification and deformation, it somehow conveys a remarkable sense of precision. The printing on the model’s surface also left a strong impression of being very beautiful. The small steam locomotive featured in the YouTube video above is about 3 to 4 centimeters long, with detailed representations of the piping on the sides of the body, creating a pleasing density. The solid weight and cool touch of the metal cast parts made it feel like something I wanted to hold and admire forever. I was truly enamored.
The problem is the high price. I assume the concept is that because the size is small, you can design a large layout with a compact area and create long trains! However, Märklin is a German manufacturer and an imported product, making it something that is far from affordable for children. The dream of creating long trains remains just that—a dream—and thus begins the daily routine of “continuing to look at catalogs.”
Nonetheless, Märklin’s catalog was beautiful. The products included European steam locomotives and mountain railways that I was not used to seeing, as well as diesel engines I had never encountered, all with attractive shapes and colors. The layouts depicted European streets or Alpine mountain regions, greatly stimulating the imagination. Additionally, I was deeply impressed by abstract models, such as a pure white diorama representing hilly terrain made by stacking white boards cut along contour lines. It was a revelation that such expressions were possible. In a scene depicting a mountain bridge and the stream flowing beneath it, they seriously represented water, and I was amazed that such realism could be achieved in models. Of course, looking back, the representation of “water” in models at that time likely had material limitations and was considerably less sophisticated compared to today, but I feel like there were photos showcasing a transparent and realistic water surface that succeeded in comparison to the “water surface” created with paper clay or plaster.
While there was this charm in diorama models, I was still captivated by the precision of the locomotives and cars.
At home, I have a few issues of a niche magazine called “Model Train Hobby,” which features numerous articles on the production of passenger cars from specific years and types of the national railway. These articles often included diagrams and templates for parts, detailing how to construct the body using layers of cardboard, bend brass wire to create handrails, and modify ready-made bogies for use. The photos in those articles were incredibly cool, and the examples were so meticulously recreated that they resembled works of art. For me, model trains represented miraculous creations handcrafted by skilled modelers.
While searching, I found someone who perfectly embodies this kind of craftsmanship, so I’m sharing it here.
This person works in a scale of 1:45, which roughly corresponds to O gauge. To create intricate models, a certain physical size is indeed necessary. It seems that larger sizes are the main attraction in model trains. In fact, Märklin’s main offerings appear to be larger lines like O gauge and HO gauge.
On the opposite end is Z gauge, which is incredibly small.
Model trains are categorized by the width of the rails (gauge). To summarize the various gauges: O gauge is 32mm, HO gauge is 16mm, N gauge is 9mm, and Z gauge is 6.5mm. The width of the vehicles is slightly wider than the rail width, so it’s roughly just under 1 centimeter. Due to this size, there are inherent physical limitations to what can be expressed. The amount of information represented in the model must be significantly reduced. The craftsman mentioned above also stated that they work in a scale of 1:45 for this reason. Therefore, Z gauge, with its 6.5mm gauge, is quite limited in expression. Nevertheless, Märklin’s Z gauge gives an impression of remarkable precision.
The treatment of edges, the detailing of key components (handrails, rivets, pipes), and the representation of colors and lettering all require careful attention to detail, deciding what information to omit. Rather than aiming for a “complete reproduction,” the goal is to evoke a sense of “imagination” in the viewer and convey an “impression” when seen. Models that achieve this balance bring a sense of happiness just by looking at them.
What Does “Precision” Mean in Model Trains?
What does “precision” mean in the context of models? What must be expressed for something to be considered “precise”? Is it enough to simply copy the real thing to achieve precision? Since it is impossible to completely replicate reality in a strict sense, models are always faced with the necessity of selecting which information to include or exclude when reproducing the real thing at a smaller scale. The degree of reproduction creates variations in information density. When you get close to a model and examine the details, the surprise of “Wow, they reproduced this much!” is one of the delights of precision models. Conversely, when you step back and view the model as a whole, it is also crucial whether the variations in information density closely resemble the impression you get from seeing the real thing (or its photographs). Rather than meticulously crafting every detail, it is important to align the overall impression with that of the real object. This applies to form as well; simply scaling down according to the design does not guarantee that the visual impression will remain the same. While the goal is to be as faithful to the real thing as possible, fine-tuning is necessary to achieve the desired “impression” at that scale, which likely influences the quality of the model. The root of realism in models seems to lie in this area.
This concept likely applies to other forms of expression as well. Simply being detailed does not automatically make something realistic. There are persuasive images that are highly simplified, and there are also highly detailed works that lack a sense of reality. Hayao Miyazaki, known for his military-themed works, featured many drawings of old weapons in his series “Hayao Miyazaki’s Notebook” in Monthly Model Graphics. Each of these drawings has a certain degree of deformation, with a sense of density in the details, but rather than aiming for meticulous representation, it seems he expresses the “impression” he received from each weapon. Of course, this is a different discussion from the precision of scale models, but even models that appear to be made “just like the real thing” are likely constructed from a blend of aesthetic simplification and deformation.
Perhaps this is why things that people have strong impressions of become difficult to reproduce. Miyazaki once mentioned in an interview during the production of “The Wind Rises” that “the Zero Fighter is particularly difficult.” (I believe… though I might be misremembering…) I recall that the context was more about the aesthetic delicacy of the subject, but I imagined that many people have seen various photographs and creative works of the Zero Fighter, each forming strong impressions, making it challenging to depict it in a way that satisfies everyone. Alternatively, I wondered if Miyazaki’s impression of the Zero Fighter, being the son of an aircraft manufacturer, differed slightly from the general public’s perception. Personally, I felt that the depiction of the Zero Fighter in “The Wind Rises” was a bit too sleek and delicate, making it not quite look like a Zero Fighter.
Pursuing this aspect is always very challenging. While contemplating these thoughts, I find myself once again watching model train videos as a form of escapism.
As a side note, since the topic of water representation in diorama models came up, I remembered an artist named Takashi Furuya.
I believe he is quite a popular artist. He creates artworks that look as if real goldfish are swimming underwater by pouring transparent resin into bowls, painting the part of the goldfish that is closest to the bottom, pouring more resin, and then painting the part of the goldfish that is closer to the surface, repeating this process. Although he paints in two dimensions, the finished piece appears three-dimensional, which is sometimes referred to as 2.5D. Observing his work makes it clear how the introduction of highly transparent resin has greatly expanded the possibilities for water representation in sculpture. Recent water representations in diorama models generally employ similar techniques, pouring and solidifying transparent resin into the base of the scene. Naturally, they can represent underwater scenes, and for surface effects like foamy waves, they apply white paint and use wind pressure to spread the paint, achieving delicate advancements that are captivating to watch in their process videos.
Harada
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