Something Completely Different: Steve McQueen's XKSS

I paint airplanes. Lots and lots of airplanes. That's not something that I was pigeonholed into, as is sometimes the case with artists who find themselves stuck in a genre', but a subject that has fascinated me since I was a child. Demand for new aviation work and new aviation commissions, however, leaves me with little time to explore new territory. As a professional artist I'm motivated to be accepted elsewhere. I love classic cars. I love surrealism. I love portraits.

I had to make something different!

Classic Americana. History. Hollywood and heroes. I searched old photographs to help me come up with an idea and rough composition that would encompass the most among those elements. I found it with Steve McQueen and his Jaguar XKSS in a Hollywood movie studio back lot. That car! I adore the European sports cars of the 1950s and 1960s. It's no accident that my Maserati GranTourismo by Pininfarina is a car designed after Ferrari's 275 GTB/4 by the same designer. The XKSS, though a British car, was built for the same tracks and with the same graceful flair. And Steve McQueen? I know he was a guy who was difficult to work with and famously stated, "If I hadn't made it in Hollywood, I think I would have become a hood," but nowhere has their been a greater uniquely American icon - in my opinion.  

My painting adhered relatively closely to a famous photograph of McQueen, which I wanted to do. I depicted him a few years older, and changed the atmosphere of the studio lot that reflected his movies and its location in California. I added the reflection of his famous (though much later) 'Bullitt' custom Mustang in the fender of the Jag. I adorned Steve with his uniquely designed wedding ring and Occhiali Persol sunglasses.

I've released this composition as limited edition prints in all of my regular sizes on various papers and canvas:  http://coles-aircraft.myshopify.com/collections/automotive-gallery-ron-cole-aviation-art-cars-classic/products/steve-mcqueen-jaguar-xkss-ron-cole-aviation-automotive-art  

I did go overboard with detail, as that's part of my style.

Maybe a Ferrari next?

- Ron Cole

Yamamoto's Aircraft Wreck: History, Art, and Relics by Ron Cole

Like Adolf Hitler and Benito Mussolini, in the United States he was a universally hated emblem of the Axis. This was the man who had supposedly boasted that his nation would one day take America's surrender in the White House. Isoroku Yamamoto was Japan's top Admiral, commander of its Combined Fleet, and the force of will that lay behind his country's attack upon Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. There was scarcely an American who would not celebrate the man's death. 

As is often the case in times of war, however, Yamamoto was a misunderstood enemy. No one in Japan could have opposed the war more vigorously than Admiral Yamamoto and avoid being assassinated - which was an accepted risk in politics in Japan at the time. In fact he was a political Admiral who was given command of the fleet in part to get him out of Tokyo; to save his life. His remarks about surrender in the White House were taken far out of context. The rant was actually uttered as a means of illustrating, to Japan's war proponents, the absurd lengths that his country would have to go if it ever hoped to defeat the United States - an aim Yamamoto believed was impossible. Not unlike Robert E. Lee, he took his forces into a war he'd hoped to avoid out of a sense of duty. "I will throw everything into the fight," the Admiral said on the eve of war, then added, "I expect to die in battle." 

And he did.

It was called, with no will to be subtle about it, Operation Vengeance. Due to the secret Allied ability to read Japanese Naval codes, it had been determined that Isoroku Yamamoto was scheduled to fly into Balalae in the Solomons on April 18, 1943 on an inspection tour of the front. It was a risky mission in many respects: the Japanese might determine that their codes had been compromised, Balalae was barely within range of long range fighters (P-38 Lightnings), and after the Japanese debacle at Midway there was concern among American strategists that someone more capable than Yamamoto might take his place. But all of these concerns were overwhelmed by the sentiment expressed in the name of the operation. The President himself weighed in on the decision by simply saying, "Get Yamamoto!"  

Two Japanese fast transports (converted G4M1 bombers) and six escorting Zero fighters left Rabaul on the morning of the 18th. Eighteen P-38s of the 339th Fighter Squadron left Guadalcanal to intercept. Thanks to retrofitted Naval compasses, extra large drop tanks, near miraculous navigation and sheer luck on the part of the Americans, the two flights met each other over the island of Bougainville. The action was swift. One G4M1 transport went down in the water. The other, carrying Yamamoto and marked with the tail code 'T1-323', went down in the jungle. The latter was marked by a thick plume of smoke. 

In the trees and amid the fire, there was only one survivor of the crash. It is believed that the aircraft's copilot, though severely injured and with only a few more minutes to live, took it upon himself to pose his Admiral's body in a position of dignity: sitting upright in his chair with his sword in his hand. He was discovered in that position by a Japanese Army search team. For the United States the operation was a much needed moment of justice, and for its air forces a triumph of operational planning on every level. For many Japanese, Yamamoto's death foretold an inevitable end that the Admiral had himself predicted. For one pilot, Kenji Yanagiya, who flew one of the escorting Zeros that day, the shame and agony never abated. Sixty years later he accompanied Japanese 'Ace' Saburo Sakai to Texas for a reunion of pilots from both sides of the action. When he was asked to autograph a painting of Yamamoto being shot down in flames, he pulled Sakai aside with tears in his eyes and said, "I cannot bear to sign the most shameful failure of my life." He did, nevertheless, respect all present by adding his signature. Photos from the reunion reveal that old hatreds, misunderstandings, and the most brutal war in a century may be healed among great men of honor - no matter who they'd fought for. 

Throughout all of these years the wreck of Isoroku Yamamoto's aircraft has remained where it fell, in the dense jungle of Bougainville. It is likely the most historically significant World War II aircraft wreck in the world, and in more recent years it has been coveted and protected as such. Visitations to the now cleared and guarded site are regular and help support the local economy. Taking a piece of the aircraft away from the site is akin to trying to steal a piece of the pyramids of Giza. But in the 1960s, while similar wartime aircraft were still being cut up for scrap in the area, the times were very different. Remote areas in the South Pacific were being surveyed by geological companies and explored in the hopes of finding valuable natural resources. One such Australian firm had its crew on Bougainville in 1968, and during its down time heard about the 'famous' wreck of an Admiral's plane. For a small fee, natives led the crew to the site. There were bits and pieces everywhere, and many were taken away. 

That's how I obtained pieces of Yamamoto's aircraft forty years later.

I was commissioned by a wealthy collector of sports memorabilia to paint the moment that Yamamoto's aircraft was shot down. He'd obtained a piece of the aircraft and thought a painting of it would make for a valuable investment when displayed together. Of course the action had already been painted by many artists, so I sought to depict it in a different and hopefully more dramatic way. 

My opportunity to acquire pieces of the aircraft myself occurred later, after I'd released the painting as a limited edition. The promotion of the print actually acted like a net among people all over the world who'd acquired pieces from the wreck at one time or another and wanted the print as a companion to them. One person had a control wheel, another a piece that he claimed was part of the bomb sight, others simple little pieces of metal. All extremely rare. When an Aussie offered up a couple of aluminum panels in exchange for a print, I happily agreed! He shared his story of their acquisition in 1968. Upon study they were found to be consistent with panels from the undersurface of the wing: Japanese transparent 'Aotake' green on one side, faint traces of light gray over iron oxide red primer on the other. In 2013 I began offering my print and pieces of these panels in my 13 x 19 inch framed displays through Cole's Aircraft. To me, it's a great source of pride that I can disseminate this kind of tangible history to others who can appreciate it.  

Invest in a limited edition Yamamoto relic display via either of my two online stores: http://www.roncole.net

- Ron Cole

The Lockheed Electra of Amelia Earhart

It's hard to paint a tragedy. As a general rule I don't even paint wartime aviation compositions in which anyone is being shot down. It's just not part of the story that I wish to emphasize, and I've found that the veterans themselves have greatly appreciated that fact. When the idea of a composition based upon the last moments of Amelia Earhart's Lockheed Electra was proposed to me, however, I admit that I liked the idea. It hadn't been done. With the continuing search for her aircraft in the news recently, it was timely. Thus I grappled with how I could depict the event in a way that would convey the least amount of tragedy.

There are many theories that purport to explain the disappearance of Earhart and Fred Noonan in July of 1937. The only one I feel qualified to weigh in on is the idea that their Electra was shot down by the Japanese. The Japanese Naval aviation community in those days was a very small and closely knit cadre of elite pilots, and I've known many of them that survived World War II. I've heard stories about all sorts of controversial pre-war incidents, including the bombing of the USS Panay, but not a thing about any involvement with Earhart's aircraft. It wasn't a secret that could have been kept at the time, and it certainly could not have been kept over the ensuing decades. The remaining theories have Earhart either crashing into the middle of the ocean, or ditching near one of a few possible Pacific islands where she and Noonan might have survived for some time. One story even has them conceiving a child at some point, and much later passing away. In all honesty, and in keeping with the principle of Occam's razor, I think they probably went down far at sea. But I just couldn't bring myself to celebrate that end in a painting. I wanted there to be hope in my rendition of the story.

I suspect that if land had been sighted that day in 1937, Earhart would have stayed aloft as long as possible in order to use her altitude for better radio range. She'd been transmitting all morning but had not been able to receive. She had no way of knowing if anyone could hear her or not, but giving the world every opportunity to get a bearing on her location was her best hope of eventual rescue. One engine would have run out of fuel before the other, and she likely would have stayed aloft until the other quit. In my painting I've depicted her aircraft mere seconds before it hit the water - but with the green and hopeful reflection of an island straight ahead of her.

I'd like to think that my painting reflects reality; that the ditching of Amelia Earhart's Electra only meant the closing of one particular chapter in her life and the opening of another. It is still possible that she and her navigator lived out an existence of significance on some remote Pacific atoll. Maybe they even did have a family and knew new pleasures together. That's the hope I opted to try and capture in my homage to Amelia and Fred. I think it came out nicely.

- Ron Cole  
     

Unbroken: Louis Zamperini's B-24 Liberator in Art

B-24D 'Super Man' April 1943

Back towards the end of 2013 I was working with Legend Flyers of Everett, Washington. I'd already painted a couple of paintings for them; two compositions depicting the Messerschmitt Me 262b jet that they'd rebuilt. Their next big project was the restoration of a Japanese A6M3 Model 32 Zero fighter. I was already familiar with the aircraft since a friend of mine, John Sterling, was the man responsible for recovering it from Taroa in the Pacific in 1992. It was a historically significant aircraft for reasons that went beyond its rarity; one of barely 300 ever built of its model. It had been flown in combat by the Japanese fighter 'Ace' Isamu Miyazaki, and it had taken part in the interception of Lt. Louis Zamperini's B-24 'Super Man' in April of 1943 (This action was dramatically depicted in Angelina Jolie's film 'Unbroken', though no Zeros were actually lost in the encounter). Legend Flyers commissioned me to paint the Zero in combat with Zamperini's bomber. First one composition, then another from a different angle, then another . . .

A6M3 Mod. 32 Zero of the 252nd Kokutai attacking 'Super Man' head-on in April 1943.

During this process, and the research associated with the paintings, I certainly gained a healthy respect for Louis Zamperini and heard some amazing stories of his experiences. I'm sure most will agree that the movie was certainly excellent and a must see!

The same pass - a few seconds later!

The April 1943 combat that essentially destroyed 'Super Man' was more than a fateful mechanism that led to Zamperini and the rest of the crew being assigned 'Green Hornet' - the squadron hack that later crashed into the Pacific. 'Super Man's' successful return to its base with 562 holes in her was regarded as a miracle in its own right, and led to a great deal of media attention at the time.

B-24D 'Super Man' alone and under attack, April 1943.

My paintings for Legend Flyers had all been focused upon the Zero's participation in the action. While the movie was still in theaters I wanted to focus something more directly upon 'Super Man' with her as the center of attention. After Christmas I painted her in all of her glory, fighting back with all that she had:

Rest in well-deserved peace 'Super Man' and Louis Zamperini. You will never be forgotten.


- Ron Cole


Limited edition prints are available via the following online stores:

Cole's Aircraft Aviation Art Web Store

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The Austro-Hungarian Albatros D.III / Oeffag 253 in Art, by Ron Cole

When I was a kid my family and I had been close friends with Dr. Marty O'Connor for years. He was, among other things, the world's best known scholar and author on the subject of the Austro-Hungarian air forces in World War One. Even though he died tragically over twenty years ago, his name and his work remains some of the best material available on any of the Great War air services. And he was a great friend; my unofficial Godfather.

I recently came into the possession, through a trade, of an original J.J. Muller aircraft fuel gauge. Made in Vienna in 1918, it was used in several Austro-Hungarian aircraft including their licence-built Albatros D.III - known in Austria as the Oeffag 253. The first thing that I thought of was Marty. If he were still around he'd tell me the name of the guy who designed it and some anecdotal story about having met him many years before. Probably! In any case I was excited by the excuse the instrument had provided: I'd always wanted to paint something dedicated to Dr. O'Connor, and I started doing research.

I found a great color scheme for a late-war Albatros D.III. I remembered what Marty had told me about how these aircraft were painted in the field. He told me all about the paints used and how they didn't usually cover well and soon weathered. Unit markings were often painted atop older crosses, which bled through, and late war crosses were added in different places. I put all of that information to use in my painting.

I'd always been hesitant to weather or show crudely-painted markings in my work because the effect might look sloppy, but I disregarded those fears here. I thought that if I rendered the majority of the aircraft in very sharp detail, then things like the sloppily-hand-painted white fuselage markings would 'read' as intended: as accurately-depicted wartime markings.

The plywood fuselage was fun! And the hammered metal cowling parts were an interesting challenge. I put a lot of effort into making each material component look authentic.

The end product would be a one-of-a-kind piece printed on canvas at 24 x 36 inches, framed, and combined with the original fuel gauge.

I hope Marty would be proud!

- Ron Cole

Japanese WWII Aircraft Aotake Primer Coats - Part II

A6M3 Mod. 32 252nd Kokutai - by Ron Cole

People argue, especially scale aircraft modelers, about the application and colorization of a certain unique World War II-era Japanese aircraft primer called Aotake: It's blue, it's green; more one than the other, and so on. As I revealed in an earlier article on this Blog, the most intriguing thing about Aotake is that it's all of the above. Colors range a wide gamut, from blue to green and everything in between.

But there's even more to the Aotake story.

As a translucent primer coating the stuff was applied during many different stages of an aircraft's production, at the main factories and among the many smaller subcontractors that were employed to manufacture parts. A piece of aluminum stock would be stamped, then coated with a layer of Aotake to prevent flash corrosion. Then that part would be drilled and cut, then given another coat of Aotake. After that part was riveted into place within the air frame it would be coated a third time or more. The procedure was generally to ensure that no bare metal was exposed to the air for any length of time. Then, in some areas of the aircraft, a matte black coat of paint was often applied - as a further measure of protection or to cut down on the glare of the glossy Aotake, it's not known.

  
It's generally accepted that there were two main variations of Aotake: a blue and a green (though other shades including yellow have been encountered). Some have suggested a number of different means to predict the application of either variant - time frame, manufacturer, or other. In reality both blue and green could be expected to be seen in any random aircraft regardless of manufacturer or time frame - until the worsening war situation saw Aotake's use abandoned altogether. The above twin samples are both parts of the main wing spar of the same Zero fighter: Mitsubishi-built A6M3 Mod. 32 Zero (serial number 3148), built in September 1942. These are about the greatest extremes of green and blue encountered within this aircraft, yet they are from the same wing spar. Variations to include shades between these two extremes were examined elsewhere within this machine, dependent upon multiple layers applied of both colors.

Both of the above color samples are indicative of light coatings of Aotake. Elsewhere the lightness of the color ranges to almost black - indicating a much heavier application.

 
The aluminum parts above reveals the effect of Aotake as applied in multiple layers during construction. These samples are straps to hold bottles of compressed oxygen in place aft of the pilot's seat, but this effect can be seen throughout the aircraft. These parts were cut and drilled, coated with Aotake, assembled, and re-coated. Note also that even here we see subtle variations in the color between blue and green.

In short, the Japanese wartime application procedures, with their resultant innumerable variations in color, produces both a blessing and curse to modelers who wish to replicate them. A well done interior of a scale model would be a dazzling patchwork of glossy bright color - but good luck with that truly laborious project!

- Ron Cole

Maserati Grantourismo: Owner's Report

This is admittedly not an article based upon my work as an aviation artist, even though it is here published on my aviation art Blog. Truth be told: I wasn't about to start a new Blog just to articulate my view of the Maserati Grantourismo after one month of ownership. My aviation artwork success bought this car - I suppose that's a connection that can justify its publication on my art Blog. I guess.

What can I say about this machine built in Modena after a full 30 days of ownership; driving it almost endlessly around my small Ohio town even when I could take the Acura, conveniently forgetting this and that in order to justify another short trip behind it's elegant piano black steering wheel? A lot! So much, in fact, that it's hard to pick a place to start.

Without going into the history of this particular Maserati design and its pedigree, it is nevertheless a creation of Pininfarina and Ferrari. The latter is responsible for the V8 under the hood, and the former for its coch work. Maserati has never claimed that this car was deliberately made to embody the amazing 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB in both spirit and looks - but it is, every bit as much as Ford's vaunted 'GT' is a new GT40. If the 275 happens to be your all time favorite car, as it has been mine for years, then you may well find yourself finding a way to put a Grantourismo in your garage. That's exactly what happened to me.

Ferrari 275 GTB by Pininfarina.

 
If you've never owned an Italian car before then buying a car like this has much in common with exploring a newly discovered alien planet. It is very different. Coming at this car from an Infiniti G37S coupe, it was totally new to me. But newbies are not alone and we chat among ourselves in online forums: Does your CEL pop on and then turn off for no reason? Is it true that the car remains electronically 'on' unless the doors are locked? Could anyone test that? The answer to most alarmist inquiries is that it's an 'Italian quirk'. And this car has a few of those, though still far less than most of its predecessors.

The Grantourismo is a very reliable car that, according to many, can certainly be a daily driver that even handles snow relatively well (it has a button to turn on 'snow mode' after all). Drive it hard and drive it often. It won't break more often than any other car - but it will cost a small fortune to fix. Very true. The nearest certified dealership is 90 miles away from me and charges $250 per-hour. Note to self.

Driving this car is pure joy, and my non-race-car-driver wife wholly agrees. In 'normal' mode you'd think you were driving a Bentley. It's smooth as glass and quiet as can be. Too quiet, in my opinion. I want to hear more of that famous Ferrari exhaust note, but that pleasure belongs only to the drivers around you. The transmission in this car is arguably the best system that money can buy. It syncs perfectly under all conditions, and if you're a professional driver who thinks he can manually shift this car faster or better - you're wrong. It's that quick and flawless. No wonder this car is not available as a manual.

Push the 'sport mode' button and all sorts of things happen that helps explain why people think this is actually two cars wrapped into one. The exhaust opens up, the suspension stiffens, and the gear ratios change. I drive my Maserati in sport mode almost all of the time. If anything negative can be said about this system, it's that you get used to the feeling of one mode and when you switch to the other the difference can be mildly disconcerting. This happened to me today on the way to Columbus. I disengaged 'sport' and I spent the next ten miles trying to determine if my tires had lost some air, or what. It was just the suspension in 'Bentley' mode!

This Maserati has, what I sincerely believe to be, ferocious power. In top gear with 'sport' off, press the accelerator and you think you're hitting light speed in Han Solo's Falcon. Much quicker and it would scare me. Off the line it's exactly .4 seconds slower than Jaguar's monster XKR with its 510 hp (the car I almost bought). It can reliably destroy 95% of anything it's likely to encounter in its life - should that be one's ambition. Yet other reviewers have called the Grantourismo 'somewhat under-powered'. I have to ask: Compared to what???

But as a vehicle I want my wife to drive as often as I do, this is not a car that is very capable of getting itself into trouble. So far I've found it impossible to overwhelm the rear wheels in a corner, for example. Race purists might be annoyed by that, but it's also true that I haven't turned the traction control system off yet.

      
I lucked out on the interior of this car. It's a beautiful light tan leather, black suede, and piano black combination. The leather stitching exactly matches the exterior paint. I'm a designer, and I could not have conjured up a more elegant combination myself. I love it! Having said that, we can't expect that Modena cared for long term resilience when it picked its leathers, nor to have put function over form when it mapped out the controls. Better than other Italians it is, but there are still 'quirks'. There are no cruise control buttons on the steering wheel, for example. Those buttons are only to operate the Bose sound system, but they're so unresponsive that I just go straight to the dash. But pretty? Oh, yes! And in spite of these quirks I can't say I'd change a thing if it detracted from the overall visual appeal.

Last but not least, this car comes with a selection of baggage that might be deemed a positive or a negative, depending upon the person behind the wheel. Because I'm a very socially reclusive person, to me it can be a bit of a negative. Driving this car is like driving a Broadway show on wheels! Yes, everyone looks at you. Yes, those girls in the rear view mirror are taking pictures of your car with their cell phones. Yes, you will be stopped by people in most parking lots, and you will smile, be nice, and give them a personal tour no matter how busy your day is - because you can't be 'that jerk' in the Maserati. It exhausts me sometimes. I feel very under the microscope, and that's why I tinted the windows midway through the third week of ownership. Not because it looks cool, but to give me some anonymity as I drive. Don't get me wrong: I love meeting new people, but sometimes it gets to be too much.

This car stickers for $139,000 new, but I paid much less for mine with a mere 24,000 miles on it. Did I experience buyer's remorse? I did experience temporary remorse after I bought my Infiniti, but not after I bought this car. It's beautiful, it's fast, it's comfortable, it's timeless, it's relatively practical. With 100,000 miles on it and when it's 10 years old - it's still a Maserati! Just please, God, please, God - help me avoid door dings. :)

- Ron Cole