Every journey has a first step

It is, admittedly, with certain trepidation, that I write these words, as I embark upon my journey into the unknown country of, you guessed it, wire and putty, in order to reach the pinnacles of ability and enlightenment that I have decided to conquer. With a dental pick in one hand, and a clay shaper in the other, I walk the first steps towards learning the subtle art of sculpture most intricate... all right, enough of the heroic introduction. You, my reader, are not watching a fantasy movie, such as "Conan the Barbarian", but waste your time on the musings of a novice blogger, and, coincidentally, a novice artisan. Allow me, then, to entertain you with a short tale...

When I was a kid - and so long ago it was - I had inordinate love for paper models. Airplanes I had aplenty, but while they were quite awe inspiring, they also caught dust like mad, and were large enough to turn my den into an unholy variation on a decaying aviation museum (or a post-apocalyptic airfield worthy of "Fallout"). Thus, with each remodeling, the planes disappeared, one by one, but by the time they were all gone, I have been firmly gripped by the bug that was scale modeling, and I have discovered the joys of tabletop wargames as well. It goes without saying, that my interests have quickly gravitated towards little metal men and their incredible machines. "Warzone", poor "Warzone", you, and your Capitol Free Marines are, to this day, sorely missed.

Still, all was not lost. By the time Target Games died an inglorious death, a new shadow has fallen upon me, and many others. Poland, it seemed, was invaded by Britons with bad attitudes and chainswords aplenty. I still have old Dark Angels, painted without paying heed to the universal cry of "thin your paints", and I fondly remember giving my friend and his Space Wolves a hard time, back when Warhammer 40,000 box had three books in it, and "Virus Outbreak" Strategy Card was in fashion. Unfortunately, my enthusiasm faded, confronted with the inevitability of real life hardships, growing tendency for workaholism and procrastination. Years have passed, and after a unlucky stint with armor modeling that has left me with a veritable truckload of 1:35 vehicle kits in neat boxes and a sour taste of failure in my mouth, I have decided, that something had to be done. The outcome of my musings, affected by my long time brewing interest in sculpture, undoubtedly fueled by works of giants, such as Jes Goodwin, Alan and Michael Perry or Brian Nelson (not to mention the sadly defunct team of madmen, who used to work for Rackham), was pretty expectable. Wire and putty it would be, no more, no less.

Since you are probably thinking "enough with this bullshit already" at this point, I believe it is time to finish my ramblings. To do that, a cult movie quote - although not exactly kindly treated - would be oddly appropriate: "It's twenty six kilometers to Warsaw, I've got a box full of putty, half a cup of tools, it's dark, and I'm wearing a head magnifier. Hit it."