The fourth audience

Gary Hinshaw pointed out that I’d missed an important fourth audience in my post about art and model railroading: the layout builder themself. How do they respond to the layout?

To be sure, I have difficulty thinking of myself as the audience of my layout. I spend too much time behind the curtain to expect to feel any optimism and industry as a result of viewing or interacting with Pembroke. Having said that, I can’t deny an emotional response from this journey I am on.

Building a layout is unique as an artistic endeavour. There are few single works that take a decade or more to complete; while a novelist might expect to spend several years on a single book, I can’t think of another type of work that is in the league. The joke, however, is that we usually say a model railroad is never finished. We sign up for a project knowing we will never finish it!

So while my layout is unlikely to elicit the same feelings or response in me as the primary audiences – the casual viewer, the railroad enthusiast and the operator – it is worth being deliberate about how I respond to the layout.

Like most railway modellers, my early plans were inspired by the massive layouts shared in the pages of Model Railroader and the other magazines. The first iteration of Pembroke was meant to be a test track, a vehicle to hone my skills and bring Proto:87 to an operable standard.

But I’ve been working on Pembroke for a decade now, and I’ve learned that I work slowly. If I started a basement-filling layout, it is unlikely I would finish it in my lifetime. What’s more, I’ve learned that a single town, done well will satisfy me.

So, how do I respond to the layout now, how do I wish I felt about it, and what can I do to move from the former to the latter?.

When The Boy’s model railroading friend visited at the end of August, it wasn’t a great experience. The track was dirty and equipment leapt from the rails like they were lava. Despite a concerted effort ahead of the North Shore Model Railroaders’ visit in October, the layout was still embarrassing!

There are moments (always when I’m alone, of course) when the railroad operates perfectly. The turnout levers work nicely for the most part, even if they could be beefier, and turning an engine on the turntable still fills me with wonder. Those moments give me hope, one might even say “optimism.”

I enjoy sharing the layout, even with the least knowledgeable visitor. However, I quickly get out the book of prototype photos and explain – somewhat apologetically – what all the building mockups represent. Again, there is a tinge of embarrassment.

On the other hand, I really like where the railroad is going from an aesthetic point of view. The few models that are finished look great, and I enjoy interacting with them. I especially like how the railroad fits in the room and in our lives; refinishing the basement was the right decision, even if it did take over a year.

It is interesting to reflect how much of the way I feel about the layout is related to other people. Embarrassment is not something we feel when we are alone. I wish I were one of those people who don’t care what other people think, but I’m not, and invariably I believe they see all the flaws.

So, here I am, embarrassed by the operation and look of the railroad, but optimistic about the future. How can I get to a point where I feel proud of where the layout is, and still optimistic about the future?

It is clear now that I need to knuckle down and resolve the remaining derailments. This should be my top priority. And since this post started gestating weeks ago, that has been a focus of my efforts.

The pasture has taught me that scenery is relatively quick if the buildings are all on the backdrop. It also makes a big difference in the appeal of the layout as everyone can appreciate rocks, grass and trees. I had been leaving the ground bare until I was happy with all the track. That day is nearly here, so maybe it is time to push on with greening.