Let me tell you, when I was in elementary school, I could make a mean diorama. If there was a background to be coloured-pencilled in to the back of a shoebox, I was there. Historical re-enactments, scientific processes, even story arcs in our literature classes. Everything that could be reduced to figurine size was. My dioramas were works of sheer majesty.
Despite my stellar background in this arena, when I look at Thomas Doyle‘s works, I get a creeping feeling in the back of my head that, however miraculously, he just might have surpassedme. I know, it is hard to think that anything could best the praise-garnering “T-Rex vs. Allosaur,” but his mastery with little figures leaves my use of plastic dinosaur toys seeming, at best, a tad juvenile.
I’m only going to show you a few images from his series, but I strongly urge you to go to his site and poke through the rest. They’re enchanting peeks into ant-sized worlds, fraught with tension and chock full of impending doom. If you love small things as much as I do, you’re a shoo-in. The small size of the figures make you feel as though you’re getting a privileged view into intensely private situations. It’s simultaneously voyeuristic and extremely intimate. If you’re not as instantly drawn to the “ooh! Tiny!” factor, give them a shot anyway. They’re quite poignant looks at life and deeds and memory, rendered all the more tragic by their scale.