A Woman at the Bench, On Her Own Terms

Welcome to Her Shrink Ray Eye. I opened this podcast with a simple introduction: I’m Joan, and I talk about miniatures of all kinds. Historical figures. Plastic kits. Fictional box dioramas. Anything that shrinks a world down into something you can hold, build, or imagine.

In this first episode, I wanted to share the path that brought me here. It’s a path lined with miniature cake decorations, a tiny water-running toy kitchen sink, Barbie shoes, and a lifelong love of tinkering. All those small things like those early fascinations that shaped my creative identity long before I ever picked up a model kit or a paintbrush.

I also wanted to explain why I started this podcast at all. Her Shrink Ray Eye isn’t a technique show. It’s not a tutorial feed or a news roundup. It’s a place to question the things we take for granted about art, miniatures, and the way we express ourselves at small scale. It’s a space to ask what these little resin and plastic figures reveal about us and the world around us.

Where the Name Came From

The name of the podcast is a blend of three things that shaped me.

First, science fiction. Sci-fi makes the impossible possible. Shrinking rays, alternate dimensions, impossible machines. It lets you shift perspective and rethink reality, and that openness has always fueled my imagination.

Second, my obsession with eyes. Eyes reveal so much about a person. They’re expressive, vulnerable, and mysterious. Eyes are also symbolic.  They determine what we see and how we interpret what we’re looking at.

And third, how I see the miniature hobby itself. Miniature art is an expression of ideas without strict rules or conventions. It’s creative, flexible, and deeply personal. The name Her Shrink Ray Eye reflects that combination: a woman’s point of view, a science-fiction sense of possibility, and a love of looking closely at small worlds.

Why Questioning Matters

One of the main reasons I started this podcast is to ask the questions that don’t always get airtime. Questions like:
Why aren’t more women part of the hobby?
Why don’t we see miniatures in art galleries more often?
What compels any of us to create?

These are not questions with quick answers. Sometimes there aren’t answers at all. But asking them matters. Asking them helps us think more deeply about what we’re doing at the bench and why certain patterns exist in the hobby.

Art and creation are personal. My reasons won’t match yours, and that’s part of the richness of it. This podcast is about looking at the hobby through my own lens my “shrink ray” if you will and seeing what it can reveal when we slow down and reflect.

My Early Love of Small Things

My story with miniatures starts in childhood. One of my clearest memories is dreading trips to the Hallmark store with my mom and grandmother that is until I discovered the wall of tiny cake decorations. Parasols. Animals. Little plastic treasures that pulled me in and held my attention completely.

They became my reward for surviving stationery shopping.

I wasn’t really into dolls, but I loved their tiny accessories. Barbie shoes. Miniature clothes my mom knitted. The world-building potential of small objects caught me far more than the dolls themselves.

And then there was the miniature kitchen sink. A strange little toy, smaller than Barbie scale, with a tiny water reservoir that actually worked. I took that sink apart and put it back together repeatedly until it barely functioned, but I understood every piece of it. That blend of scale, realism, and mechanical curiosity stayed with me.

Small things felt like magic—objects from the real or imagined world reduced to a size you could study, hold, and animate with your own stories. That sense of wonder matured into the way I see miniatures today. Dioramas, figures, tiny scenes—they’re containers for imagination.

Tinkering, Building, and Early Influences

My dad was a mechanic, and I grew up watching him take things apart and put them back together. Cars, radios, motorcycles.  Anything with parts became a curiosity. That sense of tinkering, of understanding how things work by touching and taking apart, shaped me too.

So it’s no surprise that scale modeling took hold.

My first introduction to the miniature hobby came 25 or 30 years ago, through my husband Barry. He showed me his Napoleonic figures. I was stunned by how realistic they were, how much history and artistry could be condensed into something that fit in the palm of your hand. I minored in history, so the uniforms and detail were irresistible.

My first build was an IHC fairground carousel kit painted with Testors enamel. I loved carousels and fairground rides, and although the paint job was a challenge, the joy of building outweighed everything. I built a dragon ship ride too—bare plastic in places, imperfect, but deeply satisfying. I wasn’t building for a show. I didn’t even know shows existed. I was building for myself.

Entering the Show World

Barry eventually brought me home a flat tin figure from the SCAM Show in California.  A flat tin figure is an engraved metal scene with a bit of relief. Painting volumes on flat figures was a challenge, but I was hooked. When I finally attended SCAMs myself, I was struck by how welcoming everyone was. Vendors spent time encouraging me. People shared stories in the hospitality suite. It was my first glimpse into how strong the friendships in this hobby could be.

Over the years, I went to Chicago, MFCA, and other shows across the U.S. and abroad. I also attended IPMS events, where the atmosphere felt different—more traditional, more male-dominated. At my first registration desk, the man assumed I was signing up my husband. He was apologetic, but the moment revealed how unfamiliar it still is for women to show up at plastic modeling events.

Growing, Expanding, and Returning to 3D

For twenty years I painted mostly flat figures. It suited my fine art background because it was like painting on a unique, sculpted canvas. And I noticed more women gravitated towards flats.

But eventually, I pushed myself into round figures, fantasy, sci-fi kits, and more genres. I rediscovered 3D building through plastic models and fell in love with the expanded possibilities.

Falling in Love with Box Dioramas

My newest obsession is box dioramas.  Those small scenes built inside enclosed boxes with controlled lighting and a fixed viewing window. I kept a notebook full of ideas for years before finally building one. When I did, it changed something for me. Box dioramas combine storytelling, lighting, electronics, perspective, and sculpting into one small world.

My first box diorama explored the turmoil around AI art. I built peeling rooms, receding perspectives, and a kitbashed robot stealing knowledge from the heads of famous artists. It’s a little gruesome, but it captured a real anxiety people feel about machine-generated art.

Working on that box reminded me how powerful small spaces can be. A diorama can be immersive, theatrical, reflective, or abstract. It pushed me creatively, and I keep a notebook full of new ideas.

Why I Want More Women in the Hobby

This is a very male-dominated hobby, especially in plastic modeling. I know there are women out there who love miniatures but never post their work or attend shows. I have two women in my own family like that. It raises questions about visibility, welcome, and what might encourage more women to take part.

And no, it isn’t about subject matter. Women build and paint tanks, planes, machines, fantasy figures—anything. The diversity of 3D printing has expanded options for everyone. The issue is not interest. It’s culture.

Exploring Beyond the Traditional Definitions of Modeling and Figure Painting

Her Shrink Ray Eye will remain mostly a solo show. A quiet, thoughtful, and reflective essay on what drives our love of miniatures.  Occasionally I’ll bring in guests from inside and outside the miniature community. I also want to delve into the fringe elements of the hobby: the artists who build environments without people, the polymer clay sculptors, the fine artists who work in miniature but showcase their work in galleries. There are many ways to learn from all of these worlds, even when they fall outside of the traditional boundaries of "modeling" or "figure painting."

Welcome to the Quiet Rebellion

This podcast is meant to spark reflection and curiosity. You may not agree with everything I say. You shouldn’t. But I hope something here makes you think about the hobby in a new way or recognize something familiar from your own story.

If that sounds like the kind of quiet rebellion you're interested in, come along! Episodes are released every other Wednesday.