Last modified: Wednesday, May 14, 2003 7:38 PM
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Goodbye 2002 It's time
for the indulgent and rambling yearly retrospective, a break from the usual
indulgent and rambling project commentary. This year it's colored by a somewhat
bleak, washed-out feeling that's hard to shake: My trivial dollmaking efforts
take place against the backdrop of troubling real world developments. Homeland
Security. National Database. Omnipresent video monitoring. Roadblocks. Pre-emptive
justice. Shades of Palpatine. When the us becomes them, they
will come for our guns. But I insist on looking at the bright side:
Hopefully, I'll be long dead before our ideals are twisted unrecognizably
and we fully embrace the Orwellian future where less government is more
government. The promise of human cloning comes just in the nick of time;
genetic and social engineering will ultimately help us achieve our vision
of a perfect and safe future. We just need to rid the Earth of all the flawed
people who currently occupy it.
Here at JBWID, it's been a good year. I even met my self-imposed target
of n figures early, sometime in October, and tackled a few more
after that. True, it's silly to get hung up on quotas & quantity, but
if motivation relies on competition with something, competing with
yourself is a good way to go. The other main motivational pressure came
from a mission to provide new material and updates fairly often-- like
I've said before, the website has an insatiable appetite for new material,
and the visitor traffic responds to it. Admittedly, it's not very motivating
to pump out a variety of projects and receive so little feedback about
them in the Guestbook... but I'm resigned to the fact that this is primarily
a lurker's tourist attraction. Tricking yourself into believing that these
motivating pressures are somehow important serves a greater purpose, much
like the way we muddle through life. It's worked for me, at least. Of
course the hobby itself is rewarding, even without the website and feedback--
I wouldn't be doing it otherwise. This year my output was more character
driven--squeezing out primitives, monsters, villains and heroes to fill
empty nooks and crannies of my Fantasy world-- but I managed to challenge
and entertain myself with the technical aspects of the projects too.
The 2-foot tall Queen of the Demon
Monkey Goddesses project was especially challenging, and resulted
in one of my all-time favorite kick-ass figures. She and her plump, green-skinned
little sister "fleshed out" the ranks of the first-string antagonists
but also fulfilled a personal fetishy urge, transgressing the boundaries
of good taste and (I felt) showing that grotesque creatures could have
a curiously erotic appeal. I liked how giving Greenie pasties actually
made her look nastier! I've said it before, but I reiterate that it's gotten more difficult
selecting figures to make, since I've already made most of what I've felt
driven to make. Besides that, there's the shrinking pool: The
Lord of the Rings 1:6 figure line has already dampened my plans to
make a Dwarf and something resembling a Ringwraith. Does that kind of
thing matter? Does whatever you made retain its luster, even if a superior
commercial version is available? I'd be lying if I told you that it doesn't
matter, although it's a noble sentiment. After the initial glow of pride
in your accomplishment has faded, the work stands on its own merit or
loses its halo according to whatever else that comes along. It's happened
to me many times before, and I wouldn't have bothered making my homemade
Brosnan Bond if Sideshow's had been available, for example. But you shrug
and move on; you're not supposed to wallow forever in past glories. The
part that remains special is the memory of the work you put into
it and the knowledge you gained...which is not the same thing as the figure
itself. The figure is a memento, a souvenir of the learning experience.
I'm just glad that there were reasons to make certain figures when I did,
since I've learned a lot from those projects.
To aspiring customizers who are just now getting into this hobby, it's
a tougher world in which to find purpose and distinguish yourself-- it's
hard to find the drive to reinvent the wheel, and it's gotten harder to
improve on it. While commercial customizers are hardest hit by this, even
non-commercial ones (like myself) are finding it difficult to remain relevant.
It doesn't promise to get any easier, as we get pushed into making
more obscure things like, say... 1:6 scale tampons? So the trend continues--
what's great for collectors isn't necessarily great for those traditional
customizers who want a deeper level of involvement in the hobby than decisions
of what/where to buy pre-made fodder. That's been a democratizing development,
but while it's swelled the ranks of folks who dabble in customizing, it's
produced few new Joe customizers/figure artists who fly the "full service"
banner. That's not to condemn or lament the plentiful and excellent commercial
offerings. Customizers are almost always collectors and benefit equally
from this year's great offerings such as Dragon's Sturmpionier, Apollo
Astronaut and Ignite's Roman Centurion. And we all suffer equally from
the hole this leaves in our pocketbook.
More than ever, this plentitude forces us to be specialists and niche
area collectors rather than the generalists we used to be. The result
is that this hobby has become more fragmented. I've focused on making
Sword, Sandals, and Breasts figures and have written fewer reviews--
mainly because I'm buying less because it's so overwhelming. The past
year has seen the proliferation of special purpose forums defined by areas
of interest. While one can be interested in lots of different areas, it
takes a lot more money to play that game, a lot more space to display
all those figures, and a lot more time to browse all the different forums.
The "Sandbox" (Usenet's alt.toys.gi-joe) remains a popular general purpose
forum, but is no longer the primary source for all the latest-breaking
information. It's a little sad to see the change, but change is an unavoidable
part of life.
This year has also brought us terrible news of tragedies suffered by
our fellow hobbyists. Earlier this year, Kevin Epling lost his son, Matthew.
Their close and loving bond through this hobby was always evident in Kevhead's
postings at the Sandbox, and in their Father and Son entries in the 1997
Halloween Customizing Contest hosted here. Recently, Sgt. Zang, reknowned
for his chat room and for producing superb stamped metal helmets, passed
away. These tragedies have had profound effects which reached beyond their
immediate families; the entire hobby community experienced a loss and
shares in the sadness and pain. Rest in Peace, Fellow Customizers.
Despite the downbeat tone of this retrospective, I'm actually an optimist.
Undoubtedly, there will be lots of cool things coming from the manufacturers
in the future (like the 1:6 Melusine SAFS in Feb.). And new customizers
will join the ranks. I'll manage to find new projects to tackle,
even if it's accompanied by a lot of hand-wringing. In objective terms,
the change of the year signifies nothing real. The Earth doesn't
glitch on a restart and we don't magically become revitalized or renewed.
Psychologically though, it can signify a fresh start or the end of a marathon.
At this time, I'm feeling more of the latter since I've barely managed
to finish the last project of the year, just under the wire. While I don't
forsee quitting this hobby anytime soon-- it's too much fun for that --
I can't imagine maintaining the pace I've kept these years in terms of
new material and website updates. It's seemed purposeful: I've seen the
site get over 600 visitors in a single day, which is gratifying for a
niche site like this-- but that's unsustainable and is a peculiar justification
for working one's buns off. Besides running out of project ideas, I'm
also running out of things to say-- no, it only seems like I have
Alzheimers; I'm painfully aware of the repetition and rehashes. So this
seems like a good time to ease into a more casual relationship with the
hobby and shed some of the self-imposed pressure to produce. Of course,
the future is a blank slate so I don't know how I'll actually act
as it unfolds. Anyway, Happy New Year, 2003.
--12/31/2002 |