Jeff
Active Member
Our hobby recently lost one of its biggest supporters Russ Fisher. Before I start this I would like to open with a letter that Russ sent to Historical Miniature magazine. It says a lot about Russ especially the Russ I came to know and respect. This letter appeared in HM magazine #42. This letter was sent to Steve Weakly and he decided to run it in the magazine.
Steven,
Finally got caught up in my magazine reading and I was struck by your last two editorials and the thoughtful and concise piece on judging by Bill Ottinger that I wrote up the attached piece. This is not necessarily for publication instead Just wanted to share some random thoughts and ideas.
"He was always cold, but the land of gold
Seemed to hold him like a spell
Though he'd often say in his homely way
That he'd sooner live in hell - - -"
These lines from "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert Service seem to
underline my thoughts as I prepare for yet another miniature show "campaign". Since we paint military subjects, the analogy seems appropriate.
I stood in front of my pieces at the 2003 California show, flanked on one side by the most beautiful Gold Medal flats I have seen and on the other by a man from our own club whom I've shared many a campaign with. As I clutched my certificate and he his Bronze he said dryly, "Pretty tough competition this year, huh" - - Oh yeah!! Surrounded by Blanks', Horans', and Doug Cohens, I literally was drowning in miniature figure painting excellence All Certificates of Merit should be amended to say:
"Thank you for attending our Show. We are unable to send a judge to your display to pat you on the head, but remember, you are what you enter. Be sure to reserve your room for next year's personal debacle. Keep your chin up and NO SNIVELING!! - - "
I thus began again a remarkable personal change of attitude and spirit - -
Most of the show brochures use the words "exhibition" and "competition" often. We are not physically "competing". No one is throwing that thirty-yard pass into the end zone or slapping that game-winning RBI into right field. We emerge from the solitary confines of our workspaces, decorate a table space with boxes and risers and felt cloth, and install hours of miniature work for public display. Nobody even offers you a blindfold!!
The judging of figures is totaly subjective. Our judges aren't identified before the event - - The only time the public sees the Chief Judge or Chairman is at the awards ceremony at the end of a show.
I once dreamt of an exhibition hall closed after the first show night with no one in the hall but judges surrounded by displayed figures. They were clustered around my figures dressed inblack and muttering to themselves. They tweaked and turned the figures. One adjusted his Optivisor and said, "Oh, My God - - Well, Pick one." Two judges commenced a game of "Rock-Paper-Scissors." A short fellow in the back said, "Ah yes. He missed the dark shadow on the uniform button just above the belt - - - Piy." But I'm drifting away from my themes -
-
Understand the process of judging pieces in the open competition format - -
Understand that the numerical scores are subjective and individual exercised by men that have consistently painted superb pieces. They spend a lot of time doing a job I am not qualified to do and hope I will never be selected to do. I think that raising the quality of your work requires no painting at first, but rests in the degree of interaction with fellow painters. If you seek the advice and critique of a respected painter get to know him socially first.
- Page Two -
When you ask for his comments, learn to listen carefully. If necessary, write down a note or two. I've got a couple of exhibitor badges with cryptic notes on the back. Experiment with the changes as soon as possible on a spare figure if you don't want to risk your prizd piece. As several have written before me, be your own most severe critic. Avoid showing a "last minute" piece - - There are no "throw away" figures unless they're at home abandoned on your shelf to be repaired later. One of the best faces I've ever painted belongs to a bust. I've lost track of the arms temporarily or I would complete him.
I was pushed to write this piece by the remembrance of all those painters that I've been privileged to know in the last nine years or so that have helped me, knowingly or not, be a better painter. I promised myself I would avoid the extreme temptation of naming names and instances - - I could fill pages. I have become comfortable "in my own skin" as a miniature painter, knowing I will become better.
Several years ago I escorted a friend to a gala social event in Orange County.
She made the introductions among the well-dressed crowd. When asked what my
work was, I said, "I'm retired." When asked how I filled my days I said, "I'm a miniature figure painter." She turned to me in a private moment and said, "That's the first time I've ever heard you say that." I live by the "Popeye Principle" - - "You are what you paint." You are what you show. I've had more fun painting the last two years than ever before thanks to the fellowship of other painters. I've learned more in the Hospitality Suite than in the seminar. It is a strange concept to realize some of our worst feelings and moments are public when some of our greatest triumphs with raised fist in the air are private in front of no one but our severest critic - - ourselves.
Some folks with limited social skill seem to think that this fraternity of fine painters is a vast "conspiracy". They fail to realize that some of these painters have known each other for twenty years or more. I view it as a "conspiracy of friendship and respect." I think the boys from Chicago could stage a miniature show in a Siberian gulag on twenty-four hours notice.
Last year I stood in front of my uncle's curio cabinet in Pennsylvania looking at a piece I'd given him five years ago. On the kitchen table were the figures I had shown at Valley Forge. I almost didn't recognize the cabinet figure I was so startled by the contrast. We don't realize the progress we make when we're separated by time and space. I knew then I'd become a better painter. I left all four Valley Forge figures and the medal for my uncle and my cousins to share and enjoy.
This year my "campaign" has tuned into another year's adventure - - Once again I have the privilege of spending quality time with others devoted to this hobby. This "band of brothers" fraternity is worth all the tea in China and maybe even all the gold in Chicago.
By the way, I found that snippet judge who didn't like the shading on that jacket button - - Must have been me.
Sincerely;
Russ Fisher
That letter says a lot about Russ. I can not think about Russ with out thinking about that letter. I was really touched by that letter and I made a point of telling him at the next meeting that I saw him at. When I got the news of Russ's passing it hit me like a ton of bricks. I have not been very active in The LA Club or SCAHMS lately. I have just not had the time to devote. The kids are keeping me pretty busy. So having not seen him for a while it was a real shock.
I first met Russ At a SCAHMS meeting I could not tell you what year that was some time around 95 or 96. I would see Russ at the meetings and we would talk but it was only after Russ had a mild stroke that I really got to know Russ. He went through a change after that stroke and his retirement. It made him a much a mellower man and in some ways nicer man. He was always a nice man but this really took the rough edges off of him. I want to say that this was around 2000, 2001 I can not quite remember. At SCAHMS that year Russ and I had a long talk at the cocktail party. He really opened up to me that night he talked about his family and is work and was extremely complementary of my work and talent. He said a lot of flattering things about me and it was a somewhat humbling experience for me. I met the real Russ Fisher that night. It really opened my eyes to what a good person he really was. I felt kind of sad I had not really gotten to know him better before that night. But everything changed that night. He was unable to paint right after his stoke and turned to paper models during the time he was working to regain the ability to paint. I think that those paper models were just what the Dr. ordered. I told him if he could do those then he would paint again, and he did. They helped him to re-learn the fine motor skills that he needed to paint. I think his first medal came after the stroke not before it.
After that night I really looked forward to seeing Russ that firm handshake and the pat on the shoulder the" How are Laura and the kids." that I came to look forward to when ever I would see him. I would say fine and ask how his family was. He would usually tell me about his granddaughter who is about the same age as my daughter Jill. The thought of not seeing him at either the LA club or at a SCAHMS meeting just makes me tear up. I can not quite put it in to words. It just gets me thinking about him holding my daughter Jillian or my son Duncan when they were just baby's, and again I want to cry.
When I was president of the LA Club I came to understand what a great asset Russ was to the clubs he belonged to. A club could not ask for a better member. He was one of those guys who really make up the back bone of a club. He was the very first member to sign up for the LA Club. He was always willing to volunteer for a shift at a show or help set up and tear down the tables at meeting or show. He was one of those go to guys that was always ready to do what needed to be done or to just help however he could.
Russ has now seen his finial campaign. I will miss him and will think of him when ever I set up my figures next to the figures of one of the masters of the hobby. I will remember to keep my chin up, and there will be no sniveling.
Rest in peace Russ the shows and club meetings will just not be the same without you.
Sincerely
Jeff Cupernell
Steven,
Finally got caught up in my magazine reading and I was struck by your last two editorials and the thoughtful and concise piece on judging by Bill Ottinger that I wrote up the attached piece. This is not necessarily for publication instead Just wanted to share some random thoughts and ideas.
"He was always cold, but the land of gold
Seemed to hold him like a spell
Though he'd often say in his homely way
That he'd sooner live in hell - - -"
These lines from "The Cremation of Sam McGee" by Robert Service seem to
underline my thoughts as I prepare for yet another miniature show "campaign". Since we paint military subjects, the analogy seems appropriate.
I stood in front of my pieces at the 2003 California show, flanked on one side by the most beautiful Gold Medal flats I have seen and on the other by a man from our own club whom I've shared many a campaign with. As I clutched my certificate and he his Bronze he said dryly, "Pretty tough competition this year, huh" - - Oh yeah!! Surrounded by Blanks', Horans', and Doug Cohens, I literally was drowning in miniature figure painting excellence All Certificates of Merit should be amended to say:
"Thank you for attending our Show. We are unable to send a judge to your display to pat you on the head, but remember, you are what you enter. Be sure to reserve your room for next year's personal debacle. Keep your chin up and NO SNIVELING!! - - "
I thus began again a remarkable personal change of attitude and spirit - -
Most of the show brochures use the words "exhibition" and "competition" often. We are not physically "competing". No one is throwing that thirty-yard pass into the end zone or slapping that game-winning RBI into right field. We emerge from the solitary confines of our workspaces, decorate a table space with boxes and risers and felt cloth, and install hours of miniature work for public display. Nobody even offers you a blindfold!!
The judging of figures is totaly subjective. Our judges aren't identified before the event - - The only time the public sees the Chief Judge or Chairman is at the awards ceremony at the end of a show.
I once dreamt of an exhibition hall closed after the first show night with no one in the hall but judges surrounded by displayed figures. They were clustered around my figures dressed inblack and muttering to themselves. They tweaked and turned the figures. One adjusted his Optivisor and said, "Oh, My God - - Well, Pick one." Two judges commenced a game of "Rock-Paper-Scissors." A short fellow in the back said, "Ah yes. He missed the dark shadow on the uniform button just above the belt - - - Piy." But I'm drifting away from my themes -
-
Understand the process of judging pieces in the open competition format - -
Understand that the numerical scores are subjective and individual exercised by men that have consistently painted superb pieces. They spend a lot of time doing a job I am not qualified to do and hope I will never be selected to do. I think that raising the quality of your work requires no painting at first, but rests in the degree of interaction with fellow painters. If you seek the advice and critique of a respected painter get to know him socially first.
- Page Two -
When you ask for his comments, learn to listen carefully. If necessary, write down a note or two. I've got a couple of exhibitor badges with cryptic notes on the back. Experiment with the changes as soon as possible on a spare figure if you don't want to risk your prizd piece. As several have written before me, be your own most severe critic. Avoid showing a "last minute" piece - - There are no "throw away" figures unless they're at home abandoned on your shelf to be repaired later. One of the best faces I've ever painted belongs to a bust. I've lost track of the arms temporarily or I would complete him.
I was pushed to write this piece by the remembrance of all those painters that I've been privileged to know in the last nine years or so that have helped me, knowingly or not, be a better painter. I promised myself I would avoid the extreme temptation of naming names and instances - - I could fill pages. I have become comfortable "in my own skin" as a miniature painter, knowing I will become better.
Several years ago I escorted a friend to a gala social event in Orange County.
She made the introductions among the well-dressed crowd. When asked what my
work was, I said, "I'm retired." When asked how I filled my days I said, "I'm a miniature figure painter." She turned to me in a private moment and said, "That's the first time I've ever heard you say that." I live by the "Popeye Principle" - - "You are what you paint." You are what you show. I've had more fun painting the last two years than ever before thanks to the fellowship of other painters. I've learned more in the Hospitality Suite than in the seminar. It is a strange concept to realize some of our worst feelings and moments are public when some of our greatest triumphs with raised fist in the air are private in front of no one but our severest critic - - ourselves.
Some folks with limited social skill seem to think that this fraternity of fine painters is a vast "conspiracy". They fail to realize that some of these painters have known each other for twenty years or more. I view it as a "conspiracy of friendship and respect." I think the boys from Chicago could stage a miniature show in a Siberian gulag on twenty-four hours notice.
Last year I stood in front of my uncle's curio cabinet in Pennsylvania looking at a piece I'd given him five years ago. On the kitchen table were the figures I had shown at Valley Forge. I almost didn't recognize the cabinet figure I was so startled by the contrast. We don't realize the progress we make when we're separated by time and space. I knew then I'd become a better painter. I left all four Valley Forge figures and the medal for my uncle and my cousins to share and enjoy.
This year my "campaign" has tuned into another year's adventure - - Once again I have the privilege of spending quality time with others devoted to this hobby. This "band of brothers" fraternity is worth all the tea in China and maybe even all the gold in Chicago.
By the way, I found that snippet judge who didn't like the shading on that jacket button - - Must have been me.
Sincerely;
Russ Fisher
That letter says a lot about Russ. I can not think about Russ with out thinking about that letter. I was really touched by that letter and I made a point of telling him at the next meeting that I saw him at. When I got the news of Russ's passing it hit me like a ton of bricks. I have not been very active in The LA Club or SCAHMS lately. I have just not had the time to devote. The kids are keeping me pretty busy. So having not seen him for a while it was a real shock.
I first met Russ At a SCAHMS meeting I could not tell you what year that was some time around 95 or 96. I would see Russ at the meetings and we would talk but it was only after Russ had a mild stroke that I really got to know Russ. He went through a change after that stroke and his retirement. It made him a much a mellower man and in some ways nicer man. He was always a nice man but this really took the rough edges off of him. I want to say that this was around 2000, 2001 I can not quite remember. At SCAHMS that year Russ and I had a long talk at the cocktail party. He really opened up to me that night he talked about his family and is work and was extremely complementary of my work and talent. He said a lot of flattering things about me and it was a somewhat humbling experience for me. I met the real Russ Fisher that night. It really opened my eyes to what a good person he really was. I felt kind of sad I had not really gotten to know him better before that night. But everything changed that night. He was unable to paint right after his stoke and turned to paper models during the time he was working to regain the ability to paint. I think that those paper models were just what the Dr. ordered. I told him if he could do those then he would paint again, and he did. They helped him to re-learn the fine motor skills that he needed to paint. I think his first medal came after the stroke not before it.
After that night I really looked forward to seeing Russ that firm handshake and the pat on the shoulder the" How are Laura and the kids." that I came to look forward to when ever I would see him. I would say fine and ask how his family was. He would usually tell me about his granddaughter who is about the same age as my daughter Jill. The thought of not seeing him at either the LA club or at a SCAHMS meeting just makes me tear up. I can not quite put it in to words. It just gets me thinking about him holding my daughter Jillian or my son Duncan when they were just baby's, and again I want to cry.
When I was president of the LA Club I came to understand what a great asset Russ was to the clubs he belonged to. A club could not ask for a better member. He was one of those guys who really make up the back bone of a club. He was the very first member to sign up for the LA Club. He was always willing to volunteer for a shift at a show or help set up and tear down the tables at meeting or show. He was one of those go to guys that was always ready to do what needed to be done or to just help however he could.
Russ has now seen his finial campaign. I will miss him and will think of him when ever I set up my figures next to the figures of one of the masters of the hobby. I will remember to keep my chin up, and there will be no sniveling.
Rest in peace Russ the shows and club meetings will just not be the same without you.
Sincerely
Jeff Cupernell
