The Wethersfield Depot by American Model Builders

Sometimes there are kits you walk past for years before finally deciding to give one a try. Laser Kit, from American Model Builders, was one of those lines for me.

When I first started in the hobby, I really didn't pay much attention to them. Many of the structures have fairly simple shapes, and I suppose they didn't stand out to me at the time.

Eventually I tried one.

And then I understood the appeal.

The buildings may be relatively simple, but the kits are well thought out and well engineered. After building the first one, I started looking at the rest of the line quite differently.

I have developed one standard modification, though. Whenever I build one of these kits, I remove the corner tabs and use 1/16-inch square stripwood instead. It is just the construction method I prefer, and I've been happy with the results.

Sadly, the original owner of Laser Kit passed away several years ago. I hoped someone would eventually acquire the line, and fortunately that did happen. Unfortunately, the revival hasn't been quite what I had hoped for.

Only a limited number of the kits seem to be readily available. The current owner says that if you're looking for a particular kit, you can contact him and he will see whether it can be produced. Apparently, there may also be some missing production files.

I understand that bringing an older kit line back isn't necessarily easy, especially if some of the original material is gone. Still, I can't help being disappointed that more of the catalog hasn't returned. There were some very nice kits in the line, and I would love to see them become easily available again.

The model in this post is The Wethersfield Depot.

I built it quite a while ago, so I can't give you a step-by-step review from memory. I do remember that the roof supports gave me the most trouble and were probably the most complicated part of the build.

I also took some liberties with the paint scheme.

My depot isn't painted in the prototype colors, so perhaps it isn't really the Wethersfield Depot anymore. That's fine with me. I'm not trying to reproduce Wethersfield with complete historical accuracy. I simply wanted the building to fit the setting I had in mind.

And if the name bothers me someday, changing the sign is easy enough.

Maybe it will become a completely different depot.

That’s it for now.

Kingston Creamery by South River Modelworks

Note: I wrote this four months ago.

 

Nearly a year ago, I made a declaration: I was going to get into 3D printing. Like many grand proclamations, it sat dormant until November rolled around and I finally took the plunge. What sparked this delayed dive into the world of additive manufacturing? A tiny lost finial and a healthy dose of stubbornness.

My first print wasn't some elaborate test piece or a cute little benchy boat. No, it was born out of necessity—or perhaps spite. While priming a model, a finial decided to make its escape. It rolled off my workspace into the void, never to be seen again despite my best search efforts the next day. That's when I made my decision: I would design and print my own replacement. Sure, I later discovered I could simply buy a replacement finial, but by then the 3D printing bug had bitten. There was no turning back.

I printed several copies of that finial—different orientations, different support structures—and learned a thing or two in the process. My ambitious plan? Design multiple finial variations and fill an entire build plate. I'd have a lifetime supply and never need to print them again.

Spoiler alert: I got bored.

With finials behind me, I shifted my attention to something completely different: 55-gallon oil drums. Because why not? The solid and flat-top drums? More or less fine. The domed-top versions? Well, let's just say they came out looking more like pancakes than proper drums. The open drums failed spectacularly—turns out the walls were far too thin to survive the printing process.

I also learned an important lesson about scale versus appearance. I created the details like ribs to actual scale, but they needed to be oversized to look right. It's one of those counterintuitive truths about miniature modeling: sometimes reality needs a little exaggeration to look realistic.

Then came the miniatures. Oh, the miniatures. I got completely sucked into miniature printing, only to realize just how much time the hobby demands. And here's the thing—the actual printing doesn't require much hands-on involvement. You set it up; press start and walk away. It's the post-processing that devours your time.

Before buying my printer, I had a nagging concern: would 3D printing become a hobby unto itself? Would it consume all my free time if not managed properly? I was right to worry. It absolutely can—and will—if you let it.

Way before my 3D printing adventures, I built the Kingston Creamery kit from South River Modelworks. The main thing I remember? Those resin castings had more air bubbles than a glass of champagne. I am kidding. Not that many, but still quite few. They weren't particularly noticeable at first, but the moment I applied an oil wash, every cavity popped into stark relief. The stone walls looked like they'd survived a shootout. Cue the touch-up painting.

Despite the bubble battle, it was a pleasant build overall. South River Modelworks makes beautiful kits, and I'd love to tackle more of them. But here's where I hit another wall: choice paralysis.

I have several South River kits on my wishlist, with two clear favorites. One is an older plaster kit, the other a newer resin offering. Both call to me. Both would be satisfying builds. Both would take considerable time. Which leads to the eternal modeler's question: Which one? Is having a choice good? Sometimes I'm not so sure. When you have limited hobby time and unlimited options, decision-making becomes its own challenge. Do you go with the classic charm of plaster, or the crisp detail of modern resin? Do you choose based on difficulty, display potential, or simply which box art speaks to you that particular day?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some oil drums to redesign and a decision to make about plaster versus resin.

Emporium Seafood by FSM

It’s time to restart this blog.

I made my first attempt at reviving it last year, but a handful of issues got in the way—and once those were sorted out, I simply forgot to come back. Until about a week ago, that is. Now that I’m here again, I’ve been debating whether to mix posts about older and newer projects or try to keep things somewhat chronological. Somewhat being the key word, because I already jumped ahead in my last post.

For now, let’s roll things back into order.

Emporium Seafood has always been one of my favorite kits. The original design sits beautifully by the water, complete with a long dock that gives it so much character. For this build, however, I was asked to create a fully land‑based version while still preserving that dock. My solution was to perch the entire structure on a hill, imagining a track running below that would justify the presence of a crane.

To keep it compact, I built retaining walls on three sides and left the fourth as a natural slope. The whole diorama also doubles as an extension to Dexter’s Dead End, which is why there’s a road curving at the bottom of the hill.

Interestingly, the kit I used for this project wasn’t even mine—I still have my own untouched copy. I rarely build the same kit twice. It’s not that I refuse; I just have very little interest in repeating the same experience. But every now and then, when someone asks nicely, I give in. Emporium Seafood is such an iconic kit that I could see myself building it one more time… but realistically, it will probably never happen. It may be time to put my spare kit on the market.

I truly hope I won’t vanish from this blog again. In my defense, it is hard to keep something going after so many years. If my math is correct, it’s been about fifteen years since I first started this space. A lot has changed in that time—projects, skills, life—but maybe that’s exactly why it’s worth keeping the blog alive.

Here’s to a fresh start, and hopefully many more posts to come.