In previous posts, I had made mention that, although I own resin miniatures, I have a particularly unfavorable opinion on them. I don't dislike them. I just find them hard to compare to traditional keshi. I had used some reasons before, like the heaviness and brittle nature of resin compared to the classic flexible rubber, but I have also expressed a desire look past some short-comings and accept them, for no other reason, to support new artists.
They remain separate, even to this day, although they are inspired by keshi and aimed at keshi lovers. There are some arguments to have to why they should be included. Like my analysis for Mystical Warriors of the Ring and Rise of the Beasts, I had wondered if deviations from the pure keshi model should be treated as equal crimes, especially when I let Trash Pack minis virtually pass with a failing grade.
So, I've given it some though and really wondered if the weight and fragile nature of resin should logically be a deal-breaker when considering it keshi. The easy answer is still yes, but the harder answer is more complicated than that.
I won't go into it too much, but there is something of the traditional keshi model. I wrote about it plenty in past posts, so please refer back to them if you need some context. Generally, traditional keshi are small, inch to two inch tall, unpainted, single-mold, rubberish minifigures. Very few toy lines actually stay within these confides anymore, and some would argue for good reasons. You can produce better a better designed product with it coming out of more than one mold. Paint can make it look more realistic, and something larger can add more to the playability, but you can't simply super glue a G.I. Joe stiff and call him keshi.
I had suggested something to the effect of 'product be damned! it's about the art or the objective of creating the perfect keshi within these rules!', as if I was some sort of sushi chef purist. I was something I said in defense of the tradition, but accidentally, on the topic of art, I think I hit the nail on the head. As dumb as I can be most time, I done struck me some black gold.
Imagine it, if you will. You have a truly stunning keshi figure. Let's say it's your favorite Neclos Fortress mini, because, frankly, I find them so beautiful. Imagine that piece, that single, unpainted, rubbery guy is the keshi equivalent to a finished painting on the wall. If you can imagine that, imagine what the resin figure is. Would it be safe to assume that the resin figure, with it's fundamental flaws, could be the sketches or proofs of that same artist? I don't think it's that far of a leap to believe.
The nature of resin manufacturing is very much hands on. Hand-casted, likely from the artist themselves, and in low production, these are likely trial-versions of a product the strive to create. Such are the scribblings on napkins and notepads covering studio tables and walls. Although these pieces are very inferior to the final product hanging on the wall, they are still valuable and coveted pieces of art, even more to those that enjoy the limited-run or one-of-a-kind aspect of art collecting. They are, if not keshi, part of keshi and part of the keshi artist, and that's something certainly to ponder around the purist mind.
They remain separate, even to this day, although they are inspired by keshi and aimed at keshi lovers. There are some arguments to have to why they should be included. Like my analysis for Mystical Warriors of the Ring and Rise of the Beasts, I had wondered if deviations from the pure keshi model should be treated as equal crimes, especially when I let Trash Pack minis virtually pass with a failing grade.
So, I've given it some though and really wondered if the weight and fragile nature of resin should logically be a deal-breaker when considering it keshi. The easy answer is still yes, but the harder answer is more complicated than that.
I won't go into it too much, but there is something of the traditional keshi model. I wrote about it plenty in past posts, so please refer back to them if you need some context. Generally, traditional keshi are small, inch to two inch tall, unpainted, single-mold, rubberish minifigures. Very few toy lines actually stay within these confides anymore, and some would argue for good reasons. You can produce better a better designed product with it coming out of more than one mold. Paint can make it look more realistic, and something larger can add more to the playability, but you can't simply super glue a G.I. Joe stiff and call him keshi.
I had suggested something to the effect of 'product be damned! it's about the art or the objective of creating the perfect keshi within these rules!', as if I was some sort of sushi chef purist. I was something I said in defense of the tradition, but accidentally, on the topic of art, I think I hit the nail on the head. As dumb as I can be most time, I done struck me some black gold.
Imagine it, if you will. You have a truly stunning keshi figure. Let's say it's your favorite Neclos Fortress mini, because, frankly, I find them so beautiful. Imagine that piece, that single, unpainted, rubbery guy is the keshi equivalent to a finished painting on the wall. If you can imagine that, imagine what the resin figure is. Would it be safe to assume that the resin figure, with it's fundamental flaws, could be the sketches or proofs of that same artist? I don't think it's that far of a leap to believe.The nature of resin manufacturing is very much hands on. Hand-casted, likely from the artist themselves, and in low production, these are likely trial-versions of a product the strive to create. Such are the scribblings on napkins and notepads covering studio tables and walls. Although these pieces are very inferior to the final product hanging on the wall, they are still valuable and coveted pieces of art, even more to those that enjoy the limited-run or one-of-a-kind aspect of art collecting. They are, if not keshi, part of keshi and part of the keshi artist, and that's something certainly to ponder around the purist mind.
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