Window Wonderland Part IV

A fresh day and an opportunity to cast fresh eyes over the Cuboid King of the Seaside Skies. If I was going to put this LEGO seagull in my shop window it would have to look good. I was trying to build a reputation here. 

While I decided how to progress with the sculpture, I added more bricks to the breast. Before long, a crisis presented itself. The white bricks were definitely running out. I had found that the larger bricks gave the best effect when it came creating a spherical effect, particularly on something this size. For the time being I would have to settle for long, skinny, one stud posts. Not ideal, but they'll do. I'd have to consult eBay at some point. In the meantime I should focus my energies on the rest of the seagull's body. 

If I constructed the body cleverly, perhaps I could preserve some white bricks and complete the breast later. The seagull, in its standing pose, would have its grey wings at its side. And surely there's some black in there too. I set about building the back. Using white pieces.  

A key technique I discovered was that by keeping everything symmetrical the build becomes easier. When I built the head, for example, I completed one side of the face and then copied it, brick for brick on the opposite side. On top of these two sides I built the rest of the head. The body, being more complicated would require me to build out, down and around, but the brick-to-brick technique would still be put to use. I would start with the spine, as it were, and build off from that.

To get the angles right for the back and tail I used a special piece of LEGO which would be familiar to anyone who had ever built a set that contained a cabin. Above nearly every steering wheel/control panel in a LEGO vehicle there would be a hatch that could open up. Under this hatch you could place your Minifigure into the driving seat. Using three of these hatches I found the perfect means to creating the angles I wanted. 

With this long shape in place from the bottom of the neck to the tip of the tail, I could start working on the wings. As I rooted through my carrier bag of grey pieces a fresh problem dawned on me. Most of the LEGO sets I had apparently weren't predominantly grey. I was looking at a lot of little Technic parts, larger panels and the tracks to a certain Space-age monorail. Still, I could make this work. There were quite a few LEGO hinges in the mix. I could place these strategically and attach some panels and, hopefully, this would give my seagull wings. Simple as that.


Bigger than I expected...



But things were going to get more confusing. As I attached the hinges and smaller parts of the track it suddenly dawned on me that I would have to start building upside down. What's more, as the 'spine' got heavier it would dip below the angle I wanted. This was easy enough to rectify by connecting longer pieces of LEGO across the underside. What this now meant was that I had a new direction I had to build in. I decided then that the body would have to be hollow. There was going to be no way I could make a solid bird with LEGO going in all directions. I don't think my brain could take it.



Perhaps most frustrating of all was that every time I held the sculpture upside down, or on its side, the beak would drop off. Still, it brought to my attention the ineffectiveness of the beak I had created. Using a couple of yellow pieces I added the vicious hook to its tip. Another step in the right direction. The seagull was certainly taking shape.

Three more hours spent and that's got to be enough for now. Next, I'll be working on getting the wings right. I will not be defeated.

Watch this space...

  

Window Wonderland Part III

Day 3. The task was set. I was going to bring a seagull to Brighton made entirely out of LEGO. Brilliant.

The head was completed. Perhaps the eye was a bit too big and the beak a little too pointed, but hey, I'm no pro. Surely if I told people it was a seagull's head they'd have to believe me. More's the point I didn't want to get bogged down ironing out imperfections. I'd never progress. The head, in my mind, was fine. Onwards and upwards as they say. Or downwards might be more accurate. I had to work out how to create a neck that would be strong enough to hold this head.

I perused the Internet for ideas and more techniques to note down in my mental guide to becoming a LEGO artist. Or something like that. In between looking at pictures of seagulls and sculptures I came across a clever way of creating support inside a hollow structure. Now don't judge me here, I am but a humble shop keeper. To the engineers of the world this would be textbook. I could create a hollow frame and connect the opposite sides with longer pieces of LEGO. This would add strength to the sculpture and save on the limited number of white bricks.

Fuelled with inspiration, I started to build the neck. The shape of this part would dictate the stance of the whole bird. It would have to be a standing seagull for many reasons beyond the practicality of displaying a bird in flight made out of LEGO. I would need to consider the shape and the angles involved. A long, straight neck; A curved breast; A straight back which would point down. This would be difficult. I very nearly put the head - now with a bit of a growth - aside, never to be spoken of again. But I'd convinced myself that I could do it. With a case of white bricks and pieces of various LEGO flying machines from the 1990's I would complete this thing.

I puzzled and clicked, gradually widening the shape in my merry way. The outside was white and neat enough. The inside was a mish-mash of some white and predominantly red (for added effect) LEGO. I had found that rhythm again but then I had to stop. I had thoroughly confused myself. I could see that this beast was going to have a square body. I would let a few forgivable oddities slide but a cuboid seagull would not be one of them. I decided to stop before I went too far. What I finished with that evening was a dwindling selection of white bricks and something that looked uncannily like a cross between a stork and an albino flat-fish.

Is it a bird? Is it a plane? I just don't know...

Still, I would not be defeated...

Window Wonerland Part II

I needed to create something eye-catching for the window of my toy shop (http://www.cheeky-monkeys.me.uk/). LEGO was the material of choice, but the subject still remained unclear. Surrounded by the best part of three decades worth of plastic bricks I decided that I should start practicing techniques.

One thing that has always impressed me with LEGO sculptures is the artist's ability to create something that appears spherical out square bricks. If I was going to complete this project, surely that would have be a technique I would need to get savvy with. So with a lot of optimism and a (very) basic idea of how pixels work I clicked together some bricks. After a few confusing moments and rebuilds I worked out a pattern. Soon I was holding something that resembled a handful of square bricks that were trying to pass themselves off as a ball. What's more, they weren't too bad at the charade. I was quietly impressed.  

As I held the 'ball' and inspiration struck. All it needed was two black dots for eyes...



Head Shot



After a few hours of experimenting with shapes and features, I ended up with what I thought looked quite a bit like a seagull's head. A local icon and image synominous with the seaside. This would be the perfect sculpture. Granted, the head I had created could easily be called 'generic' at best. Or perhaps mistaken for a baby stork but the idea was there. And surely that's what counts.

Pleased with my efforts and that I had finally found my muse, I called it a night and wondered how on earth I could build the rest of this bird.



Check back in a couple of days and I'll let you know how it goes...

Window Wonderland

Cheeky Monkeys is a traditional toy shop which overlooks the sea in the picturesque village of Rottingdean, just along the coast from Brighton. I reopened the shop towards the end of 2010 with a view to expanding the age bracket from primary to, well, anyone really.


Harbour Master Telescope. It shall be missed.



I wanted a Victorian revolution. I had visions of comic books, Steampunk and curiosities. Over Christmas I introduced brass telescopes. The pocket kind proved to be a massive hit - particularly with the Pirate fans out there. Pride of place in the window I had a 12" Harbour Master Telescope which looked out to the sea. A thing of sheer beauty. It would sparkle in the day, glitter in the night and most importantly attract a new type of person into the shop. 

As weeks rolled into months, this telescope would still draw people in. I felt an affinity with the thing. I had personally acquired it, I tended to it, made it look the best it could. It was a talking point. At the back of my mind I had decided that when I get more, this particular telescope would be mine. You can imagine my mixed emotions when it finally sold. Still, I know it's gone to a good home, and who knows, we may well see it again in a nearby window in the village. Come to Rottingdean, and I'm sure you'll see what I mean.

However, a bit of a problem presented itself: What could I possibly put in the window to replace the Harbour Master Telescope which would create the same impact. Then the solution hit me.

I have recently introduced LEGO into the shop, and believe me it was a wise move. I used to be a massive fan of the little plastic bricks as a kid and now that I'm old enough to know better, I still have that passion. It is educational, fun and it would appear that this is one of the few toys that is culturally acceptable for a fully grown man to get excited about. Or so I keep telling myself. If you search for images of LEGO on the Internet you are rewarded with literally thousands of original, jaw-droppingly good creations. Perhaps that is the answer. A LEGO sculpture. The cogs in my head started ticking.


A LEGO sculpture would be brilliant, and a personal achievement. I had to give it a go. 
The first, and possibly most difficult bridge to cross would be deciding what to build in the first place. Do I go for one big creation, or a diorama kind of thing? It should be relative to the area, but there's so much to choose from - Pavilion, Brighton Pier, Rottingdean Windmill? Do I have enough bricks? Is my patience (or lack of it) up to the challenge? The second dilemma is do I have the creative ability to build such a thing. The second problem I decided would take care of itself one way or another. The other questions I pondered over the three days it took me to separate all of the LEGO I had ever owned into colours and pieces. I needed a muse, a starting point. I needed what The Bible did for Michelangelo. One evening as I was playing with my LEGO, thinking that the 9 year old me would be beside himself with excitement that this is how my life has turned out, I stumbled across my answer.