Hi All,
I could tell by the look in her eyes that this model was not going to be a part of my collection, but hers. My wife loves the 1/12 scale dollhouse I made for her some years ago, and it seems my latest paper model falls into the “miniatures” category. But that’s OK, as we have a 40 year old reciprocity agreement.
I first discovered this model, known as a Lustschloss, on Patricia’s Agence Eureka web site. After a quick search through her huge site, I couldn’t find it, so I turned to her flickr account. Here’s the address for the first page:
http://ift.tt/29W8t5F
That should give you the seven pages for the model and the important line drawing on the cover.
A Lustschloss is a country lodge or pleasure palace for royalty, nobility and others in the upper echelons of society. Dating back to the Renaissance, they were built throughout the years to provide the ruling classes with an escape from the drudgeries of court life. A number of them still exist, for they are still recognized as the restful retreats they were originally intended to be. Similar to a Jagdschloss, or hunting lodge, the Lustschloss was more oriented toward indoor sport rather than the outdoor variety.
The model appears to be quite old. If we judge its age by the costumes worn by the model’s paper people, a good guess would be the 1880’s, possibly older. The evocative black and white line drawing on the cover says Modellirmappe 8. Lustschloss. Modellirmappe means model file or model folder. There is no indication of a publisher, only a cryptic letter R in the lower right corner of the cover. The illustration is quite accurate, down to the poses of the people and the construction of the building. I referred to it often during the build. If this is indeed the eighth in a series of paper models, I would very much like to see the others that preceded it. Information on the missing back cover may have included a list of the available models.
Considering its age, the drawings are beautifully preserved, with only a few areas of fade. It was only after printing the colorful pages onto 110 lb. cardstock that I realized just how big this model was going to be. As completed, it measures 13 inches to the top of the weather vane, by 12 inches wide. When building architectural models, I like to reinforce the paper parts with picture framer’s mat board. This helps to keep the walls flat, the roofs rigid and the corners sharp. I usually laminate the card with Elmer’s white glue, but this tends to warp the parts. Smaller parts can be easily straightened, but the large panels for this model needed to be flat from the start. So, I used 3M’s Double Sided Tape to laminate the paper to the mat board. The tape cost a few extra dollars, but I think the results were worth it. Once all the mat board was in place, I reinforced the parts with formed basswood sticks, adding strength and structure to the building. I’ve included a few photographs of the component parts showing the mat board and basswood in place.
The build was straightforward, with a good parts fit. I believe the model is German, and they have been masters of card modeling and the printer’s arts for many years. I don’t know what the original printing process was, but it far exceeds Pellerin’s often sloppy, stenciled colors over a printed black outline. In this model, color registration is spot-on, a rarity in a kit this old.
Also included with the building are a mixed set of flora and fauna to add to the overall atmosphere. Each of these accessories came in two parts, with a separate front and back. Rather than deal with the usual misalignment of hand-drawn parts, I mirrored all the front and back parts and glued the mirrored sides together, sandwiching a layer of 110 lb. card between them. This process results in strong, durable figures. Another benefit is now I have twice the number of people and plants. Where there were duplicates, such as the man on the horse, I carefully applied watercolors to alter their appearance. Two-part mahogany bases were cut and glued to each small model. After I finished assembly, I realized I had just built a 19th century playset out of paper.
The fashions worn by the guests are a good indication of the age of the model. Most of the women are covered top to bottom in heavy clothing. Most, that is, except for the milkmaid. There she stands amid the arboretum, her arms and legs bare, in concert with her alluring décolletage. It’s interesting to note the milkmaid’s contribution to fashion. Marie Antoinette built a number of small compounds where she could be alone with her friends. In one, a small, rustic, faux village known as Le Hameau de la Reine at Versailles, the Queen and her courtiers would dress as milkmaids and live a fanciful life of peasants. The bared limbs of true milkmaids relieved them from getting their clothes dirty in muddy French farmyards. But the Queen saw the quaint costume as a way to free herself from the restrictive clothing demanded by the French court. As in every age, what a Queen or Princess may do is quickly copied by her subjects, and so it was in France in the late 18th century, where ankles and elbows became fashion accessories among women of the privileged classes. This loosening of formality and the increasing exposure of a woman’s figure remains with us to this day.
My interest in milkmaids aside, the Lustschloss model builds into an imposing structure, and will need a tall shelf to display it. For those interested in building dollhouses, the back wall and roof could be cut away and floors and interior walls could be installed. It would take a bit of preproduction planning, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. My wife likes our Lustschloss just the way it is, so, lucky me.
Score and fold,
Thumb Dog
I could tell by the look in her eyes that this model was not going to be a part of my collection, but hers. My wife loves the 1/12 scale dollhouse I made for her some years ago, and it seems my latest paper model falls into the “miniatures” category. But that’s OK, as we have a 40 year old reciprocity agreement.
I first discovered this model, known as a Lustschloss, on Patricia’s Agence Eureka web site. After a quick search through her huge site, I couldn’t find it, so I turned to her flickr account. Here’s the address for the first page:
http://ift.tt/29W8t5F
That should give you the seven pages for the model and the important line drawing on the cover.
A Lustschloss is a country lodge or pleasure palace for royalty, nobility and others in the upper echelons of society. Dating back to the Renaissance, they were built throughout the years to provide the ruling classes with an escape from the drudgeries of court life. A number of them still exist, for they are still recognized as the restful retreats they were originally intended to be. Similar to a Jagdschloss, or hunting lodge, the Lustschloss was more oriented toward indoor sport rather than the outdoor variety.
The model appears to be quite old. If we judge its age by the costumes worn by the model’s paper people, a good guess would be the 1880’s, possibly older. The evocative black and white line drawing on the cover says Modellirmappe 8. Lustschloss. Modellirmappe means model file or model folder. There is no indication of a publisher, only a cryptic letter R in the lower right corner of the cover. The illustration is quite accurate, down to the poses of the people and the construction of the building. I referred to it often during the build. If this is indeed the eighth in a series of paper models, I would very much like to see the others that preceded it. Information on the missing back cover may have included a list of the available models.
Considering its age, the drawings are beautifully preserved, with only a few areas of fade. It was only after printing the colorful pages onto 110 lb. cardstock that I realized just how big this model was going to be. As completed, it measures 13 inches to the top of the weather vane, by 12 inches wide. When building architectural models, I like to reinforce the paper parts with picture framer’s mat board. This helps to keep the walls flat, the roofs rigid and the corners sharp. I usually laminate the card with Elmer’s white glue, but this tends to warp the parts. Smaller parts can be easily straightened, but the large panels for this model needed to be flat from the start. So, I used 3M’s Double Sided Tape to laminate the paper to the mat board. The tape cost a few extra dollars, but I think the results were worth it. Once all the mat board was in place, I reinforced the parts with formed basswood sticks, adding strength and structure to the building. I’ve included a few photographs of the component parts showing the mat board and basswood in place.
The build was straightforward, with a good parts fit. I believe the model is German, and they have been masters of card modeling and the printer’s arts for many years. I don’t know what the original printing process was, but it far exceeds Pellerin’s often sloppy, stenciled colors over a printed black outline. In this model, color registration is spot-on, a rarity in a kit this old.
Also included with the building are a mixed set of flora and fauna to add to the overall atmosphere. Each of these accessories came in two parts, with a separate front and back. Rather than deal with the usual misalignment of hand-drawn parts, I mirrored all the front and back parts and glued the mirrored sides together, sandwiching a layer of 110 lb. card between them. This process results in strong, durable figures. Another benefit is now I have twice the number of people and plants. Where there were duplicates, such as the man on the horse, I carefully applied watercolors to alter their appearance. Two-part mahogany bases were cut and glued to each small model. After I finished assembly, I realized I had just built a 19th century playset out of paper.
The fashions worn by the guests are a good indication of the age of the model. Most of the women are covered top to bottom in heavy clothing. Most, that is, except for the milkmaid. There she stands amid the arboretum, her arms and legs bare, in concert with her alluring décolletage. It’s interesting to note the milkmaid’s contribution to fashion. Marie Antoinette built a number of small compounds where she could be alone with her friends. In one, a small, rustic, faux village known as Le Hameau de la Reine at Versailles, the Queen and her courtiers would dress as milkmaids and live a fanciful life of peasants. The bared limbs of true milkmaids relieved them from getting their clothes dirty in muddy French farmyards. But the Queen saw the quaint costume as a way to free herself from the restrictive clothing demanded by the French court. As in every age, what a Queen or Princess may do is quickly copied by her subjects, and so it was in France in the late 18th century, where ankles and elbows became fashion accessories among women of the privileged classes. This loosening of formality and the increasing exposure of a woman’s figure remains with us to this day.
My interest in milkmaids aside, the Lustschloss model builds into an imposing structure, and will need a tall shelf to display it. For those interested in building dollhouses, the back wall and roof could be cut away and floors and interior walls could be installed. It would take a bit of preproduction planning, but it shouldn’t be too difficult. My wife likes our Lustschloss just the way it is, so, lucky me.
Score and fold,
Thumb Dog
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