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Ouch! I've already heard that the labeling of emotions differs from country to country. And in America they don't understand the way Russians draw emoticons. So I'll explain, I wanted to depict unrestrained laughter. This does not mean that I read chat and cut my nails ). I hope the meaning of the joke is clear and I didn't make my posts even weirder. (emoticon that is embarrassed)

Oh, yes, you're right! A thousand times right! I'd give a lot if I could go back to that time for one minute and see the ships with my own eyes. The only thing that reassures me is that science fiction is not on my side. And as soon as I get my hands on a time machine, I'm going to regret it. ))))).

Mark, thank you for sharing your explorations and conclusions. In a way, I have encountered a very similar situation. However, while you decided to reduce the number of windows to achieve a more harmonious composition, I am considering increasing the number of windows from three to four. And the fact that my solution is turning out to be rather unsuccessful is precisely what is causing my confusion. I don’t like the original three-window version by Beren, mainly because of the very long second window. But the alternative of splitting it into two doesn’t satisfy me either. I realize that over time, the concept of aesthetic taste has changed significantly, and what was not an issue for Beren now causes discomfort for me. But how do I determine where to stop and say, "This is the ideal solution"? For example, I used to perceive some of his other decisions differently. But now the time has come to examine them more closely. Previously, when I looked at the eagles beneath the windows, I somehow thought that Beren was illustrating different levels of protrusions and that the oddly halved eagle was actually the figure placed in the central segment of the stern, where the wreath with the ship’s name is located. From the side, it is partially visible, and I believed this was what the artist intended to depict. But now I see that it is something else entirely. It is actually positioned on the side castle. L'Ambitieux uses the same approach, but instead of a bird, there is an ornamental scroll. Budriot depicted it in the same manner, as if it were an accidental misalignment. To me, it looks like a clear mistake or a flaw. I cannot call such a composition a successful design. However, neither Beren nor Budriot seemed to have any issue with it. And if that was considered acceptable, how should I perceive my own discomfort with the elongated window? There are many conflicting elements here that raise questions for me. If we compare the design of the transom and the side castle, we can notice discrepancies. For example, the upper frieze below the windows, where the lion heads are depicted, maintains roughly the same visual rhythm. From both the transom and the side projection, this line is executed in a fairly consistent manner. However, at the lower level, where the eagles are located, the situation is completely different. The space between the eagles on the transom is filled with ornamental decoration. But as soon as this same strip transitions onto the ship’s side, everything changes. There is no decorative embellishment between the eagles—just emptiness. Why? I could continue further, but that would take our discussion too far. I am trying to determine the best way to resolve these emerging questions, but so far, I have not found an answer that satisfies me.

But let me add a late afterthought and adjust my own words. On one hand, this can be seen as a curse. But on the other, it is also a blessing. Each of us has the joy of being not just a copyist but a creator. Consider models of modern ships or battleships. If someone places the wrong gun or designs the bridge differently, it would be a mistake, a flaw. But we, in contrast, have the fortunate opportunity to be architects of our own vision and make our own choices.

Hello. If I understood your words correctly, you want to contrast two perspectives: on one side, strict historical accuracy, and on the other, an aesthetic approach that may not always align with historical criteria or pragmatic logic. That is an interesting question. I did not quite understand the mention of the fictional literary "Unicorn" as an example. Perhaps there is a meaning here that I failed to grasp correctly, or maybe it requires an understanding of the French way of thinking? In my imagination, this is somewhat like discussing the intricate details of a specific submarine’s construction while simultaneously reading about Jules Verne’s Nautilus. In my younger years, I loved exactly this kind of reflection, sketching the Nautilus in my notebook or imagining what the Duncan might look like. Later, I drew space tugboats inspired by my favorite science fiction stories. But that is a completely different approach. Perhaps I simply misunderstood you. On the other hand, reflections on aesthetics are not limited to fictional ships. When I examine Bérain’s drawings, I have just as many questions. Where does his imagination take over—where something simply could not exist in reality and must be altered? And where am I obliged to stay as true to his style as possible, making every effort to ensure that his artistic vision remains intact on the model ship? Well then, let’s try to follow this thread together. Where can we discuss the decoration of Fulminant, particularly its windows, as an aesthetic element? And where must we consider pragmatic logic? Let the duel between real and false windows begin! Before we start the discussion itself, I have taken a step to make things clearer. I have numbered the windows in Bérain’s drawing to spare both myself and you the agony of explaining which window I am referring to at any given moment. First, let’s break down the fundamental question: what is aesthetic beauty? After all, everyone may perceive it differently. What, in this case, can be considered a more beautiful appearance? I would assume that a real window with glass is perceived by the eye as something authentic, whereas a false window forces our brain to think of it as a mere imitation—something of lower rank and lesser value and beauty. This is a very brief description and can easily be challenged. But if we were to dwell on this point for too long, we might never move forward. So, I will state a debatable thesis: real windows are the more aesthetically pleasing option, and they look better than artificial false windows. And if we disregard all logical and pragmatic considerations, looking at this question solely from the perspective of aesthetic beauty, then we would want all windows to have real glass. Now, let’s go through each window and consider whether glass can be installed there. I propose we start with window number 1. This window is located on a nearly flat structure that imitates the upper part of a tower, positioned almost on the outer hull of the ship. This does not prevent it from being a real window with glass. Remember, we are not thinking about military concerns—only aesthetics. But is it that simple? No. The problem is that window #1 is much higher than the transom windows and is positioned in such a way that it intersects the deck level between floors. If it had glass, it would look not aesthetic but rather absurd. So, this window can only be false. We have already dealt a blow to the aesthetic approach. Let’s move on and examine windows #2, #3, and #4. These windows are on the hanging structure, meaning there is no issue with them intersecting deck levels. Technically, all of them could be real glass windows. But even here, there are questions. What kind of questions? Let’s look at window #4. Imagine it had glass—what would we see? The window would face a wall. This reminds me of the TV show Friends, where multiple windows face brick walls of neighboring buildings. In contrast, Joey’s window looks straight into his neighbor’s apartment, allowing them to shake hands across the gap. I always wondered why someone would make windows with such a view. In the show, the point was to emphasize that the characters live in a cheap, budget-friendly building—one where students and retirees reside, in a cramped neighborhood where buildings stand close together. Tight spaces do not convey wealth or high status. Yes, we could say much more here. We could note that this is a toilet window, that we are discussing the 18th century, not modern times, and that simply having a private toilet already signifies an officer’s high rank—unlike the hundreds of sailors exposing their bare backsides to the sea winds on the open latrines. But still, a window facing a wall is not the most aesthetically pleasing solution. So, it would be much simpler to make this window false as well. And once we make that decision, we trigger an artistic principle: human perception is naturally drawn to symmetry. We instinctively seek balance, and asymmetry is often displeasing unless counterbalanced by other artistic elements. This principle applies here too. Windows #2 and #3 could easily be real glass windows, but for the sake of symmetry, it becomes tempting to make the left-side window false as well. Does this mean that, out of all the windows, only one can remain glass? Yes. But even that is not a final decision. At this point, it becomes a torment for anyone who loves aesthetic harmony. The human artistic sense will keep focusing on that single glass window, feeling that something is off. Everything else is false, so why is this one real? What is the reason? A casual observer walking by will not know the technical justifications we just considered. They will only see that something feels unbalanced. Then, should we simply cover all the windows with wooden shields? But this raises the same question—why are all the windows false? No matter what choice we make, the sense of aesthetic beauty will still be dissatisfied. In the end, my inner aesthetic sense led me to the conclusion that all the windows on the side castle should be false, except for window #3, which should have a small glazed vent to let light into the toilet. This way, the officer would feel more at ease, without worrying about sailors on nearby ships watching him struggle after a hearty meal. We agreed not to consider pragmatic concerns, so I did not include military factors here. I did not mention that this is a warship and that glass windows come with drawbacks. I also did not discuss the fact that there was likely another cannon behind window #4, making it necessary to have a solid wooden panel instead of a glass frame. Nor did I introduce the topic of non-transparent glass, which could let in light while concealing the officer or the wall behind it. But adding this discussion would only make the post even longer. Conclusion What final thought can I offer? I believe that even if we start discussing windows solely from an aesthetic perspective, we inevitably return to pragmatic reasoning. These topics are too interconnected to consider one while ignoring the other. And the solution? The solution remains open-ended. Perhaps that is why we see models of the same ship built with different approaches—one modeler deciding on one execution, while another chooses a different path. Until we find actual photographs of Fulminant, L'Ambitieux, and other ships, we are doomed to keep asking the same questions over and over again.

Now let’s talk about the unclear points. It’s difficult to separate the questions into distinct parts here. Each individual nuance smoothly transitions into another. I’ll try to describe at least some of the most important questions at this point. To start, I’ll once again present two types of stern decorations that can be seen in Beren’s drawings. The first thing I’d like to discuss is the lower-tier windows of the side gallery. If you look at the drawing, you can see how much they differ from all the others. Especially the window on the far corner, where it meets the stern transom. This window looks very large and elongated. It reminds me of limousine windows, as if it’s been stretched too much. And this is where I faced a dilemma. Should I stick to Beren’s historical drawing, or should I make some adjustments? On the one hand, the answer seems obvious. I have the primary source, and I should follow it. But on the other hand, Beren only sketched a general concept. This drawing isn’t a rigid blueprint. In actual shipyard practice, modifications were often made later. So, I can’t say I don’t have the right to make adjustments. For example, I can point to Budrio, who made corrections to the decorations for Ambitious in his monograph, and that was considered acceptable. So, what should I do? That corner window, in my opinion, looks very unattractive. I think it could be replaced with two narrower windows instead. What do you think? The second question is a natural continuation of this topic but with a slightly different focus. What should all the side gallery windows look like? Are they even real windows? After reviewing several other models, I’ve concluded that the upper-tier window is definitely a false window. Similarly, the lower-tier windows should also be false. The only difference is that the upper false window is directly attached to the ship’s hull. Meanwhile, the lower windows are solid wooden panels on the officer’s toilet compartment. Only in the central segment could there be a small glazed window mounted in the upper part of the shield with the false window. Something like this: Is my reasoning correct? Am I right in thinking that all the windows here should be false? Moving on. Now let’s look at the model from the stern view. Here’s what I’ve achieved so far. In the empty space, the very windows I discussed earlier will eventually be placed. I could make this section flat, with the slope following the red line. Or I could make it curved so that the plane matches the yellow line. Which option do you think is better? A gentle curve is more elegant, especially if I choose the false window option. In that case, nothing would interfere with assembling the shields with a curve. But was this done in cases where glass windows were mandatory? On the one hand, a curved structure would be much more complex to make, and a flat glass window would be easier to install. On the other hand, glass panes would certainly have been installed as small pieces, and making a window frame with slight bends isn’t too difficult either. So, technically, a window could also have had a wavy shape. Or is it definite that this wasn’t done? There’s also an intermediate option that combines both approaches. The vertical columns could have a curve, while the shields or glass windows remain flat and unbent. Which of these options seems more correct to you? Please, let’s reflect on this together. I’d really like to hear other opinions. I deliberately didn’t provide additional examples to leave as much freedom as possible in your answers.

Thank you. Yes, the vertical positioning of the model has its advantages. First of all, it saves a lot of space. I adapted an ordinary clothes rack for such a vertical slipway. It was left by my son after he moved to a separate apartment and his room became a testing ground for me, where I do my modeling now. For a classic horizontal slipway I have to look for a lot more space. When I work with the stern in this condition I have the opportunity to put my wrists on the hull and so my hands are not on the weight, which is also very convenient. But as in many situations and here too along with pluses there are also minuses. For example, the vertical positioning of the ship breaks the correct perception. I have noticed several times that the eye gets used to this view, but when you turn the model in the correct position, it turns out that you made mistakes somewhere. Well and as it is a rack for clothes on it weighs and different clothes. And my heavy bags with camera equipment are stacked at the bottom. All this is needed as ballast, so that a heavy model does not topple the whole rack. It doesn't interfere with the work in any way, but when shooting, you can see fabrics or things in the background. And it makes the shots a bit dirty. And here is more than enough and shambles, which is visible on my table. Those are the downsides.

Chapter 15 This chapter, by all the rules of the genre, should have featured a serenade, a passionate lover with a lute, and a shy lady behind a curtain. But none of them will make an appearance. And honestly, that’s for the best. After finishing the windows, it was time to focus on the balcony. Finally, I removed something that had been hanging around on the model for way too long. A little backstory: when I built the balcony floor ages ago, I reinforced it with temporary braces and ribs to keep it safe from accidental damage. Back then, I made the temporary structure out of stiff paper. Now, I’m not sure if there’s a similar expression in English, but in Russian folklore, there’s a saying: “Nothing is more permanent than something temporary.” And this project proved it true yet again. When I crafted those paper supports, I thought they’d only be there for a day or two. It was supposed to be a quick fix until I could replace them with something sturdier made of wood or plywood. But time passed. The paper structure held up remarkably well—nothing tore, nothing collapsed. So I kept postponing the replacement, thinking, “Eh, it works for now.” Still, it always felt a little embarrassing when those paper supports showed up in photos. I mean, this is a big, elegant ship model. Paper details? Even temporary ones? Come on. I’d cringe at the sight and promise myself, “Tomorrow, I’ll fix this. At least for the sake of the photos.” But tomorrow never came. So here we are—finally tearing off that paper. It felt like the start of a new era for this model. No more weird paper braces in the pictures! Honestly, it’s worth celebrating. A holiday, even! But what should I call it? Cartondance? LiberPapira? Maybe something fancy like Papirôle with a French twist? I’ll have to think about it. Of course, as soon as I removed one temporary fix, I started building another. This time from different materials. I know, it looks just as primitive and pathetic. But hey, it gets the job done. This new contraption was necessary to bend the balcony railings into the correct radius. And gradually, the outlines of the balcony began to take shape. After working on the windows, it was an immense pleasure to cut regular wooden planks for the paneling instead of slicing thin strips of wood as delicate as noodles. Little by little, the balcony started to take shape. After working on the windows, it was such a relief to stop cutting delicate strips for the rain spouts and switch to crafting regular planks for the cladding. When building ship models, we all face countless decisions: what details to prioritize, what to simplify, and what to ignore. These dilemmas come in many forms. For instance, should you leave a small gap between parts? You could fix it by crafting a new piece, but that takes extra time. Or maybe a strip of wood ends up slightly too short—should you cut a new one or just leave it, knowing the gap will later be hidden under additional layers? You’ll also encounter the opposite situation. Sometimes you meticulously detail an interior cabin, knowing full well that no one will ever see it once the model is complete. Yet, you do it anyway—for the satisfaction of knowing it’s there. It’s always a balancing act: where to cut corners and where to go all out, even if no one else will notice. There’s no right answer. Each modeler decides for themselves. That’s what makes this a hobby—it’s about doing what brings you joy. Why am I spending time writing about such a seemingly trivial topic? Because I want to leave behind a record of this little piece of Fulminant that will never be seen. Maybe I’ll forget about it someday, but at least here, it’s preserved. For example, I carefully crafted the interior cladding of the balcony—complete with supports and wooden planks—just as it should be. Now, I’m making everything the way it should be on a proper model. No paper. Everything is serious and meticulously crafted. After all, it’s LiberPapira and Papirôle! Life, however, just smirked at me and said, “No paper, you say? Sure, keep dreaming. I’ll wait for tomorrow.” And tomorrow came... Chances are, I’ll end up photographing more temporary fixes—maybe even made of paper—and worrying about how they look. So much for Cartondance! But in the meantime, progress continues. Rough drafts and sketches are giving way to permanent details—at least the first layer of them. Eventually, these will be built upon with additional layers and finer details. Going forward, I won’t stray off-topic with stories or jokes about placing a young lady on the balcony and a lovestruck suitor below. Nor will I describe the following photos in detail. Instead, here are just a few images. That’s pretty much it. Over these last few posts, I’ve briefly described what’s been happening over the past few months. Believe me, even these long-winded posts barely scratch the surface. I could tell so many more stories—some of them worthy of a full comedy script, filled with misunderstandings, mishaps, and unexpected twists. Some of those stories have already reached their conclusion, while others are still unfolding, and I have no idea how they’ll end. But that’s a topic for another time. For now, I’ve shared the latest updates. As you can see from the photos, even the finished parts aren’t truly final yet. That’s what I’m working on now. At every step, I find myself wondering: Did I make the right choice? Does this solution work, or did I mess up? Does the model resemble the drawings? How do I balance Berain’s designs with the actual construction and my own vision? These are the questions on my mind, and I’ll address them in the next post.

Thanks for the feedback. I couldn't quite read the main point of the glue question accurately, so I may not be answering exactly what you wanted to know. I have mentioned in past posts that some of the tagua parts have come off. In particular, this happened with some of the sunbursts. The thin parts started to buckle and they came off the surface of the base. I have written about this before. And at that time I was just raising the question about glues. After that I glued the parts again. And I did it with the same glue that I used originally. Thought I'd give it another chance. The bulk of the parts are still in place. But there are a couple rays that came off again. So I definitely need to change the glue. I tried to look for an answer to the question of what is better to glue the tagua parts with, but I didn't find a definite answer. I got the advice to try two-component glues based on epoxy resins. I was even given an example of such glue. It is Devcon 5 Minute Epoxy or Loctite Epoxy. They also recommended a polyurethane glue, such as Gorilla Glue. I also have a variant of organic glue made from rabbit skins. I bought it for gluing parts made of bone. I tried this variant on training pieces of bone. And they glued very securely and firmly. However, in that experiment the parts had a rather large plane of contact. But I still have high hopes for this variant. And first of all I will try this variant. Especially since I already have it in stock. And the rest are still to be found and ordered. As you can see, I haven't made any more attempts with glue in the meantime and the problems with the parts that were sticking off have not been solved completely. and you can see that just as well from the pictures in this last post. You can see there that the entire panel area is covered in dust. So I haven't touched it for quite some time. You can see the puffy ray as well. Part of the reason for this long pause is that my attention has been focused on other issues. And partly I saw a certain logic in it. I was waiting and seeing what would happen to the rest of the parts that I had already re-glued. Would they or the other parts come off? I gave myself time to assess the situation more accurately and if there were any more problem areas, I would re-glue everything at once and not have to dilute a new batch of glue each time. I don't see the logic in that. It's not like I can boil two drops of glue. I would have to make a much larger batch. And it would take a couple drops to glue it together. The rest I'd have to throw away. If I do this over and over again, I'll use up the whole jar of glue. I've decided that when the new new balcony parts come in, I'll glue them all at once. In the meantime, I'm just observing what's already glued. I hope I was able to explain the whole situation and correctly understand the essence of your question.

Chapter 14 Where the author makes you peek through windows. My previous post ended with this view. I had completed all the decorative elements on the large panel above the balcony. This was the main and most prominent decoration of the ship’s stern, but it was far from the only one. Moreover, for me, this part of the decor was the easiest. It’s practically a flat surface. Now, I had to move down, work on the balcony, the first level of windows, and create the side galleries. And that was a much more challenging task. At least because I had to figure out how all these shapes should look. It’s one thing to see them in a drawing, and a completely different thing to turn them into a three-dimensional construction. To adapt the real forms of the model to the image on paper. But I’m jumping way ahead. All of this was still in the future. At the moment, I had set myself a different goal: to make the windows. And here’s where I should start showing the stages of work on the window frames, posting photos of my desk covered with blueprints, templates, and patterns. Showing the small slats being cut and turned into window grids (I don’t know what this element is called in English, and I’m not sure a computer translator would pick the right word, so I hope for your ingenuity). But you won’t see any of this because I didn’t photograph any of it. Usually, when we work on a hobby, it’s positive emotions that motivate us to share our work. But I had no positive emotions. I didn’t feel like taking pictures. I kept making attempt after attempt, and I absolutely didn’t like what I was seeing. I really didn’t like it. And these damned windows took so much time and energy from me. I even saw them in my dreams. I clearly remember one of those dreams. In it, I had finally made good windows and was admiring them on the model. But when I woke up and realized it was all just my imagination playing tricks on me, I felt utterly defeated. I tried many different methods, made countless attempts, and threw a whole pile of scraps into the trash bin. In the end, this is what I came up with. Even here, I saw a lot of things I wasn’t happy with. But this version ended up being the final one. I sent the result to my client. In many cases, his reaction is what puts the final stamp on my projects. I’m next to the model and see the details more closely. I know all the flaws. And I want to do things differently. But he often calms me down, stops me, and writes something positive. That he likes everything and doesn’t want me to redo it. That’s what happened with the windows too. He approved this version of the window frames and suggested moving on. I simmered with emotions for a while but eventually calmed down and followed his advice. All that was left was to glaze the windows, and I could move forward. The glass was provided by the client; it arrived along with other useful cargo and the model itself. He had also informed me about it beforehand. He immediately made it clear that he was against using modern materials like plastic or film for the glass. He wanted the glazing to be done with sheets of mica. I’ll spend a bit of time discussing this material. I had encountered mica before. Back then, when I was building my own models and making windows, I also wondered how to make the glass. I don’t remember where exactly I bought the mica sheets. But I do remember that the mica I had then was different from what I saw in the client’s supplies. His mica sheets looked... how should I put it? They looked different. This mica looked ancient, as if it had been made long ago using old methods. The mica I had seen before was smoother. These sheets had far more particles and bubbles between the layers. If a more modern person, like my son, were to look at this mica, he might consider these sheets to be defective or garbage. By the way, that’s an interesting thought. I should show him these sheets and find out if he would say that. For me, it didn’t evoke negative emotions. As I said, I perceived these sheets as ancient. And that somehow made me handle them more carefully, as if they were an ancient mummy or amphora. I wonder if these mica sheets really have a history of their own? I’ll also mention that among the materials the client provided for the work, I found another type of glass. And this was actual glass—a small case with a whole set of tiny thin glass plates. If I understood correctly, they are used either in microscopes or for microscopes. I think these are slides on which material is applied for examination through optics. But that’s just my guess; I didn’t verify the exact purpose of these plates. I wanted to make two options: one window with mica and another with glass, so the client could compare and choose. The glass turned out to be very fragile. It shattered eagerly when I tried to work with it, cutting it. I tried cutting the slides to the right size first to glue them into the frames. And I tried gluing them first and then trimming the edges. But in both cases, the glass cracked. For some reason, I’m confident I would have eventually found the right way to handle it. But the first photos the client saw led to his clear verdict: no glass, only mica. So I didn’t bother finishing the work with glass. I cleaned up the shards, put the case with the glass back into the supplies, and continued working with mica. What can I say? In my opinion, mica as glazing has its pros and cons. Among its advantages is relatively simple processing. There are nuances—mistakes during cutting are easy to make. But the process isn’t too difficult. Another major plus is that, unlike plastic or film, this material will remain as it is for years to come, which can’t always be said for modern materials. But there are downsides too. As I mentioned earlier, the mica (and now I’m talking specifically about what I had at my disposal) had its natural defects. Additionally, more defects could appear during the cutting and installation process. These include bubbles between layers. As a result, there’s a significant chance that some spots on the windows will show these specks and other flaws. It can look like traces of glue or other careless actions. And here, only you can decide whether this is acceptable for you or not. A modern person who’s used to even dust on the window being unacceptable might grimace and say they’d rather choose plastic. But a history enthusiast might not even notice these features. They might even say that these imperfections prove it’s real mica and that the windows were made exactly as they were centuries ago. And the artifacts on the surface only make the windows more beautiful. So, it’s a pretty ambiguous situation.

Hello. I'm glad you enjoyed reading about my creation. I hope there is something useful in it. Or at least interesting. I prefer hand tools more in carving. And I use a set of miniature chisels. In working with tagua walnut, I also use a hand router with different burrs. But I use this type of tool much less. Unfortunately, I can't take a picture of my chisels right now. But you can see and read more about this set in another thread I am also posting on this site. It's here:

I'm glad to hear that, Mark. I sincerely wish you are doing well. There's one thing: I haven't watched much television in years. I listen to audiobooks more often than not, and I watch movies. At best, it can be some podcasts on history or science. It may look strange, but I've gotten used to it. The only downside to this situation is that when I suddenly want to see what's going on in the world, it shocks me. Yesterday, after Mark's words I also decided to see what was being said on the news and again I was discouraged. The world seems to be going crazy. I quickly run to my cave, push the huge rock behind me again, look at the fire and try to catch my breath and come to my senses. Once again, I sincerely wish you, Mark, and everyone else too, that you are okay. This forum for me has remained one of the islands where everything is calm and people are calmly doing things that bring positive emotions. May it continue to be so. Peace and goodness to all! Amen.

I apologize for the flooding. But what happened? You had me worried. Did something happen to Mark? Is he okay?

Thank you for your kind words. Now I'm sitting here with red ears from embarrassment. I realize you're joking when you compare me to Netflix. But just in case, I still wonder which actor could play me in a movie? I'd like it to be Tom Hanks. I'm ready to sign a contract now. 😄 I've always looked with particular envy at the fact that your avatar has a reference to Versailles in the location. One day I might pack my bags and go to France and visit the museums. It's a very longtime dream of mine. And now I've also read about your collection in the glass cases. And my curiosity is just bursting out. Your house must look like this? In my imagination, that's exactly what it must look like. That's it, I'm going to get on with my work. If I can finish this project with Fulminant, I'll have a better chance of getting Tom Hanks to agree to play me in a movie. And then I'll be famous and I'll definitely be able to go to Paris.

I try to make jokes in some places. And make the text slightly absurd. There may be problems in this, the translator may not translate my words correctly. In fact, I can in no way say a single bad word about my customer. He is a very wonderful person, I was very lucky to meet him. I can easily tell him about real events without hiding some moments that I don't like. Even on the contrary, he is the one who stops me. I tell him that I want to redo something, and he tries to talk me out of it, writing that he likes everything as it is. For example, I left the problem with the structure of the “ears” (I do not know how to call these details correctly) out of the chat. The place where columns with arches will appear in the future. On this ship these are large vases. When I designed the cornice structure, I lost sight of some of the nuances. It was only later that I saw that it was not going to be a very pretty design. We had a long discussion about what we can do now that a lot has already been done. And a lot will have to be removed, torn off and redone. The customer wanted to leave it as it was already done. But in the end I didn't listen to him and redid it. In the future I will continue the remodeling, remove the cornice completely and redo it. The way I would do it for myself. I believe that hiding problems is not the best option. He trusts me, and I have to honor that trust. It would be a lot worse if he suddenly saw problems I wouldn't tell him about. I value my reputation. I try to do the project to the best of my ability. I realize that a lot of things can be left out. There are a lot of things in any job that are problems with the normal workflow. There's no point in telling everyone about it. If you knew how many of these problems go quietly. But I thought the most interesting ones should be shown. For me, this project has a lot of new things in it, things that I have never encountered before. And it may be useful to those who dare to take on similar tasks. More detailed stories are useful to me myself. Sometimes I reread my own posts. Some time will pass and I will forget what exactly I did, what methods I used. I'll flip through these pages and I'll remember. And I will thank myself. It is interesting to look at photos alone, but I like not the result itself, but the path, the stories, the emotions that arise during the work.