Turning Point Midway

Turning Point Midway - Revised Version, by Ron Cole

So, sometimes this happens: A client will say over the course of months that they want one thing, and then as soon as a painting is completed that one thing will become something different. Sometimes that happens days before a deadline. Sometimes hours. But that's part of being a professional and I don't get annoyed over it at all. It's a new challenge to overcome, and when I pull it off I might use the exercise to justify a new Blog post.

In this case I was commissioned to paint the Japanese aircraft carrier Akagi during the Battle of Midway. There were few specifics imparted to me besides this: Show it right before it sank and show "tragedy". This was for a Japanese client I'd worked with many times before and the language barrier necessitated our keeping communications simple. I explained that Akagi was actually scuttled near dawn on the day after she was bombed, when it was feared she might fall into the hands of the US Navy. Up to that point, because her damage was mostly limited to above her waterline, it was hoped that Akagi might be towed back to Japan. Thus I suggested showing the carrier late in the day of the American attack, as she quietly burned, her aircraft circling before ditching and her remaining crew gathering forward on the anchor deck. It hadn't been done before, and with the benefit of new research I could show the scene with unprecedented accuracy: a far distant sister ship (it was believed to have been the carrier Kaga) burning on the horizon, Akagi's decks clear of aircraft. A haunting and, from the standpoint of any seaman irrespective of nationality, sad scene of tragedy.

The Original Details of Ron Cole' Turning Point Midway

I liked it, but I don't work for me! My client wanted more action. I pointed out that depicting Akagi 'before sinking' and yet also while under attack was to depict two different events that were many hours apart. I was also arguably past deadline; he needed the painting in Tokyo, and a yet un-started Pearl Harbor piece, by the end of July. It was then the 23rd!

Those are the times when I pop an emergency Ativan (Please don't judge. I live a stressful life at times), sit back in my chair, and stare at a piece once finished that had suddenly digressed.

The revisions were many. I had to get the ship moving. That meant all of my port side reflections would change. I'd lose the crew. They were Japanese. No one would have been thinking of jumping ship at that point. All of the Zero fighters would have been in the distance, as they'd been drawn away from the carrier by the previous torpedo bomber attack. Obviously I had to add some American SBD Dauntless dive bombers. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be striking - no pun intended.

Details of Akagi amidships. The carrier was directly struck by only one American bomb, but its detonation in the hangar deck was enough to start uncontrollable fires that doomed the ship over the ensuing hours.  

After a few hours of uninterrupted painting: Mission accomplished.

It's interesting to me that the Japanese don't shirk from acknowledging their defeats - at least in my experience. I'd previously painted the bombing of Hiroshima for a Japanese client who specifically told me that he wanted to show the shock waves destroying the city. As an American I can only imagine wanting a painting of 9/11, which I certainly would not want. Yet there seems to be an agenda in Japan that runs deep when it comes to remembering these tragic events - be it the enshrinement of national sacrifice or statements about war in general. All of these pieces of mine are on permanent display in a Tokyo museum. I hope that they serve their intended purpose well.

Ron Cole
 

Aviation Art: Painting Zeros, by Ron Cole

My painting of two A6M3 Model 32 Zeros of the 252nd Kokutai being led home by searchlights. The Japanese usually removed the radios from their aircraft to save weight, and their Pacific island bases were often hundreds of miles apart.

Everybody has a favorite airplane. It might be 'that big one' that took you to Key West two years ago - but that's still a favorite. For me it's a Japanese Word War II fighter: the Mitsubishi A6M Zero. It has been my favorite since I was a little kid. Why, is probably an amalgam of various theories: I'm genetically built like a Zero: thin, light and maneuverable. The Japanese were the underdogs of World War II, as was I, at least in grade school, for the aforementioned reason (I was skinny). My favorite book as a kid was a biography of a Zero fighter Pilot - the great 'Ace' Saburo Sakai. I know. Why be a conformist?

As a forty-something year-old professional aviation artist, I paint the airplanes I get paid to paint, or focus upon the popular subjects that will sell the most limited edition prints. But when I have time I go out of my way to paint the Zero. Objectively, it's a pretty airplane; graceful and elegant with lots of French curves. As a machine, it was extremely well designed and meticulously manufactured; like a Swiss watch. Even under the stress of war, each Zero was hand built and polished to a high sheen like a race car. Like all of their weapons of war, from the Samurai sword to their battleships - the Japanese knew how to make them well. Now they just do it with cars.

The Zero fighter is not completely extinct today, though it is one of the rarest of all World War II aircraft. Only one is flying in the world that is mostly original. The few others utilize mostly new components and American-made engines (the original Nakajima-built radials are too rare and parts are impossible to find). Of the few survivors, all suffer from some kind of fault that makes them less than perfectly authentic. I've seen it as my job to bring the 'original' Zero fighter back to life; not only in terms of its accurate portrayal in every detail and color, but also in its authentic wartime surroundings.

My painting of an A6M3 Model 32 Zero during the interception of Louis Zamperini's B-24 'Super Man' in 1943. I detailed this aircraft accurately down to the correct flat head screws and tiny red alignment marks.  

My painting of an A6M5 Model 52 Zero defending Iwo Jima during pre-invasion attack by US Navy F6F Hellcats. 

 

My first ever Zero painting: A6M5s of the 262st Kokutai leave Iwo Jima under the cover of darkness on their way to Saipan.

I was lucky to be commissioned to paint several Zero compositions by Legend Flyers of Washington between 2013 and 2015. They were restoring an A6M3 model that had been brought over from the Pacific island of Taroa by my friend John Sterling in 1992. The aircraft was too deteriorated to make airworthy on its own, but the shop was building most of it from scratch using the original parts as templates (few factory drawings remain of the aircraft). Even though roughly six million dollars had already been invested in the project (or maybe because of that), they were short of money. They wanted to trade me original Zero parts for artwork. I certainly jumped at that amazing opportunity!

Some of the A6M3 Zero parts obtained in trade from Legend Flyers in exchange for my artwork.

One of my later paintings for Legend Flyers of their A6M3 Zero that they are restoring to flying condition.

Another Zero painting for Legend Flyers: This is the same aircraft depicted above, but as she appeared in late 1943. Earlier that year, the Japanese Navy issued an order for all of their aircraft to be camouflaged by their units in the field.

Ron Cole's Big 40x60 Gallery-Wrapped Canvases

The genre' of aviation art is changing dramatically. In my personal opinion it's all for the better. New technologies are opening up new processes that are empowering more artists to share their visions with others. That can only be good. And what fans of our art expect from us is changing, too. Realism, drama, mood and the size of a composition are seeing limits pushed to the edge of what's possible. That's exciting, and challenging as an artist. All good. 

I've always been seen as a bit 'nuts' when it has come to including arguably unnecessary detail in my own creations. I did it as a builder of scale models and it's equally true of my paintings. Can anyone really see the pattern of the dress the woman is wearing inside the open door of my Boeing 314 Clipper? Certainly not when being viewed as a 13x19 or even 24x36 Giclee' print; certainly not on any computer screen short of full-resolution with a zoom feature. But it is there, though rarely appreciated. Details like that are within every one of my 100+ compositions. They're time consuming to include, but they're part of my style. 

It recently became in vogue to make huge prints and wall art a part of modern home decor. Everyone has seen the big online 'art' clearinghouses advertise them. But no photography and virtually no art was ever created with sizes like these in mind. Look at them closely in person, as opposed to those tiny ad images on Facebook, and there is fuzzy pixelation everywhere! They're terrible. And the companies that sell such junk don't care, since by the time it's obvious you've already bought it and unpacked it. 

Only the size is impressive when a composition, meant to be printed as a 20x30, is blown up to twice that size. 

Fortunately, at least in this particular case, I'm nuts. I've always exceeded the need when it came to sharpness and detail. What was probably a waste of time in years past is now a great asset and presents an opportunity. Now there is a popular and usually practical size that I can offer people that really shows off my work and sets it apart from anything else out there on the market: the 40x60 inch gallery-wrapped canvas. 

The rivet detail on my Amelia Earhart Lockheed Electra really pops when seen as a 40x60 

Unlike all of my other offerings that I produce in my own studio, these 40x60s are outsourced to an incredibly reliable and quick-to-ship company that specializes in these pieces. That makes them expensive for me to have made, but I'm happy to make less myself in order to share my work this way. The canvas is gloss, and somewhat to my surprise it creates a beautiful depth to the image - especially with saturated colors. The canvas is wrapped around an extra-thick and solid wooden frame. The thickness of the frame creates a natural stand-off from the wall, giving the piece a three-dimensional look. The edging of the wrap is gloss black, which amplifies that effect even more.

These days folks are much less inclined to want to buy art, wait to receive it, then take it to a framer, pay more money for wrapping or matting, then wait more, and finally receive something that they can hang on their wall. My 40x60s (and indeed all of my work in all of the sizes I offer) come ready to hang with a variety of hardware to accommodate anyone's needs. Take them out of the (admittedly big) box and hang them. That's it. Instant gratification! 

 

All of my 100+ compositions are still available in this size, though a few of my most popular pieces are close to sold out. 

Shop my store, or just enjoy taking a look at what I have to offer: Cole's Aircraft

- Ron Cole