THE CRITIQUE

It was a word that would strike fear into the hearts of neophyte art students. The critique, or “crit” as it was better known, was a highly-detailed review of a work of art that would literally spell success or failure at having solved the visual problem. In art school that could be brutal, and while attending Pratt Institute in New York many years ago (the Marine ‘boot camp’ of art schools for first-year students), I endured my share of these experiences which ranged from having work literally ripped off the wall and thrown on the floor to the ultimate instructor compliment of “well, you seemed to have grasped the concept.” Keep in mind that at this early stage of an artist’s development, they are carefully training you to deal with the cold cruel world of fire-breathing art directors which requires having a very thick skin. Trust me, the process worked beautifully.

In a professional context, however, the art critique tends to be not so much a primal experience, but rather a properly suitable review of anything from a new gallery opening to a masterwork on display in a museum. This month, I’d like to share with you how a typical critique and analysis might read when applied to a different kind of masterwork – that of a highly-successful and well-known cover painting of one of the many classic model boxtops from the Golden Age. And who better to choose as the artist than the Godfather of model box art himself, the legendary Jack Leynnwood.

For the cover painting of Revell’s Consolidated PB4Y-1 kit (re-issued in 1965 only one year after their Army Air Force B-24D was released), Jack was faced with a rather complex rendering problem. Namely, what would be the best way to portray the U.S. Navy patrol bomber attacking an enemy sub? Molded in dull blue-grey plastic rather than AAF olive drab, the PB4Y-1 kit retained the identical mold of the B-24, but with rather austere Navy markings for the decals. The problem Jack was left to solve was how to depict a blue-and-white airplane flying over a blue-and-white ocean while attacking a grey-and-white German submarine.

Let’s start with the scene’s overall staging. The painting was to show a bombing run over the U-boat with the aircraft’s accordion-type bomb bay doors in the raised position and the sub’s wake coupled with spray from the detonating bombs providing ample visual elements with which to contrast the airplane’s shape. Obviously, the famed Leynnwood-esque interplay of cool and warm colors would not be possible here, so let’s analyze just how Jack composed this dramatic scene while still employing his thematic trademark of “crowding the box”, or having the subject seemingly explode out of the small image area.

To best solve this particular visual problem, the largest “weapon” in his artistic arsenal was something called atmospheric perspective. With the PB4Y-1 flying approximately 200 feet above the submarine, despite similar shades of blue, grey, and white, the coloration of the airplane would be more vivid than either the ocean’s surface or the sub itself. Additionally, by making the airplane’s skin a glossy surface, Jack could embellish the play of light on all the structural seams with subtle “popcorn highlights” further enhancing the bomber’s shape and contour while offering an effective contrast to the more mat finish of the boat and surrounding water at the same time. One can’t help but notice the splash of red gas tank filler covers marching across the top of the wing as well.

The answer to the question of how to best define specific parts of the aircraft lay in the studious design of spray geysers from exploding bombs or depth charges used as background shapes behind the twin tailfins or playing against the dark tops of the big bomber’s wings. Also noteworthy is the skillful employment of dark and rhythmic geometric shapes such as engine nacelle openings or the waist-gunner and bombardier’s windows contrasting the more organic forms of water spray and the submarine’s wake. Although this area of churned water looked technically a bit too large for the relative size and speed of the boat, it very effectively enhances the impression of the sub trying desperately to escape the bomber’s wrath, and is a great example of how Leynnwood would introduce these little visual surprises with such brilliance.

We should also take note of Jack’s skillful rendering of the PB4Y-1’s propellers. Going against the accepted norm of showing the complete shape of each prop blade including its suitably-blurred Hamilton Standard logo, all ringed by a slightly-too-prominent yellow circle, he merely hints at the propellers’ presence with a most delicate play of light on the top of each prop arc, much like seeing those clear plastic discs on solid display models from the 1950s.

A nice finishing touch is the use of light-colored weathering on the wing leading edges and cowl flaps to properly “age” the aircraft as it would appear during heavy operational usage, a phenomenon Leynnwood witnessed himself as an Army Air Corps instructor flying AT-6s, P-51s and P-38s during the final years of World War II. Last but not least is the depiction of three crew figures wearing their yellow Mae Wests as seen through the cockpit windows and in the nose of the bomber echoed by three small crew figures visible atop the sub’s conning tower, adding a most welcome human element to these massive war machines.

So there you have it – a formal critique and analysis of one of Jack Leynnwood’s most successful and popular boxtop illustrations, just as it might have appeared in some high-brow art magazine many years ago. Reading through all the artspeak, however, one gets the impression that this descriptive copy was actually written for some hallowed museum painting or other suitably priceless piece of artwork. To any model builder in the mid-1960s, it was.