The Art of the Almost Real – In Conversation with Modelmaker Melis Eres.

Art has long been a powerful tool for making complex histories tangible, and multidisciplinary artist and modelmaker Melis Eres does exactly that through her striking, interactive creations that blend traditional craftsmanship with storytelling. Eres sat down with STRAND to discuss her influences, inspirations and how model-making can educate, and invite audiences to engage with subjects that might otherwise feel distant.

Where did your love for model-making come from? What first inspired you to pursue this degree?

I actually had no idea modelmaking was a thing until I did a portfolio review with Arts University Bournemouth. I had originally gone in with the intention of pursuing a design course, but the person reviewing my portfolio told me I’d be better suited for modelmaking. I’ve always been someone who prefers 3D over 2D. I took ceramic sculpture classes from age 9 to 18 and found my love for sculpture through them. I think my brain just understands better how to make art that way. I like being able to feel the piece instead of just seeing it as you would a drawing or a painting.

How did you become interested in making replica food?

In my first year of university, we had a unit where we could choose to make either a model of an artefact or of food. I chose to make a food model and had the idea of making a Michelin-inspired dish of what a cat would eat at a fancy dinner. I loved the entire process of making that model, especially trying to figure out what materials to use to make the food look as realistic as I could. In the second year, I had to write an argumentative essay on a topic of my choice and then make a model from that topic. I chose to explore how popularising replica food in the West would be beneficial to restaurants/cafes as a form of advertisement, similar to how it’s done in Japan. Learning about the history of replica food really solidified my interest in it and gave me insight into the traditional processes. But what drew me to replica food was how natural it had to look to be realistic. You can’t make it too perfect or mechanical, or else it’ll be too obvious that it’s fake. The art of tricking someone into thinking your replica food is real is so difficult, but when someone gives you that reaction, it’s incredibly rewarding. 

A Cat’s Fancy Dinner was one of your first food models. What surprised you most about the process?

I was really surprised by how difficult it is to make non-food materials look like food. Even though I was able to mould and cast a lot of things, like the carrots and tomatoes, the outcome always ended up being a different look than the actual food. I found out after making that model that transparency is what you need to make something casted look like real food. I was using an opaque polyurethane resin to cast the vegetables, but since light couldn’t pass through it in any way, it gave the finished product a dull, lifeless look. I couldn’t figure this out for A Cat’s Fancy Dinner, and it made the process so much more difficult. I was having to do more with the paint finish to compensate for this than if I had just started with a more translucent resin. Most models have some trial and error, but with this model, it felt like I was always trying and failing things until eventually, after many methods, something worked out. 

Some of your floral arrangements were featured in a fashion show during Paris Fashion Week SS26. What was the process of making the floral arrangements for, and what inspired you to use these specific materials for the design? 

I was honestly shocked that I was able to make something so cool as my first freelance project out of university. I had just moved to London in July, and I was emailing every model-making company I could possibly find, asking if they needed someone to help out. Souvenir Scenic Studios got back to me and asked me to come in, which is when I learned that I would be making floral arrangements for Paris Fashion Week. They showed me Tom Scutt’s design for the set, and I was so amazed by the grandeur of it. We spent a month making fifteen massive floral arrangements that were meant to go on top of these tall pillars that spanned the room. The designer made the set very sustainable with lots of natural elements, so we were mainly using dried plants, trees, flowers, and grasses. 

You mention your dissertation about the use of models as replacements for stolen artefacts in museums. Tell us a little more about what specifically you argue here, and why this type of model-making is important.

When I first moved to England, I would travel to London to visit museums and galleries, and when I went to the V&A for the first time, I walked into a room with Michelangelo’s David in it. I’ve seen the original before, so I was slightly confused as to how it found its way to London. I doubled back and read a sign on the wall that explained that the entire room was made out of casts taken from the original objects; everything I could see was a replica. This experience inspired my dissertation, because even though I knew it wasn’t real, there was still an essence of the original present in the cast, and it never hindered my experience of looking at it. Walking through the British Museum, I noticed a totem pole next to an eating area. Reading the plaque, it explained that it was a real totem pole sold to someone under duress after the village was deserted because the community had been destroyed by diseases brought by colonialists. I used this story in my dissertation to argue how a replica of this totem pole could have been used in place of the original. This would allow visitors to the British Museum to still be able to analyse its carvings and learn about its history, but it would more importantly allow the object to be sent back to its home.

What first drew you to the story of Atlantic cod? Did this relate to the importance of your dissertation in any way?

When I first spoke to the Poole Museum, I asked them why they were focusing on the Atlantic Cod. They explained to me the history of the cod trade, its effects on the environment, and its connection to Poole, but what I found most interesting was how it was also connected to Indigenous communities in Newfoundland, Canada. Newfoundland was a prime spot for cod fishing, and many settlers moved there to be able to make their money through this. Not only did all this fishing cause the cod to shrink in size, due to them not having enough time to grow before they were caught, but it also took away a source of food for the Indigenous communities living in that area. This, along with other factors, actually ended up completely eradicating the Beothuk people. The museum recognised the consequences of the cod trade, and they told me they were making an effort to educate their visitors about this. The curator explained to me that they were working with museums in Newfoundland to get scans of the objects in their collections in order to be able to make replicas of them for their own museum.

How did you balance historical accuracy in translating such a complex story, with making the Cod models visually engaging and interactive?

It’s really hard to put that amount of history into a model made for children, so I had to focus on the part of the story that was easily translatable in a visual manner. The idea of the Atlantic Cod shrinking as much as it did is something I found much more shocking when you can visualise the size difference in real life versus just reading the numbers side by side. Even just seeing the two different-sized fish next to each other really makes people realise how detrimental the cod trade was for the fish population, which in turn would help children better understand how it impacted the environment and the Indigenous people in those areas. While I was making the models, I kept having people come up to me and ask if that was really how small they became or if I was exaggerating. Every time I would tell them I wasn’t exaggerating, that’s just what happened. 

Your models are interactive puppets rather than static displays - how important was audience engagement in shaping your design?

It’s the first thing I think about when designing my interactive models. If someone is going to touch it, you have to think about all the ways they could engage with it and also all the ways they could break it. For the Atlantic Cod puppets, I made them lightweight because I knew the main audience was children, and I wanted them to be able to pick up the bigger puppet without struggling. I also added three poles so multiple kids could puppeteer it, making the weight distribution for each kid much lighter. The functionality is important to consider, but I also factored in the visual look of the puppets when creating the design. It’s so much more engaging to be playing with a fish puppet that has all the elements of the real thing, but isn’t hyperrealistic. I really wanted to make sure the experience of puppeteering a giant fish was memorable, so the mechanics and the look of it were the main things I focused on in order for me to be satisfied with the outcome and be happy with giving the museum my models. 

Looking back, what are you most proud of achieving via the cod project?

I’m very proud of how much I was able to achieve in the time frame I had. I originally didn’t want to do it because I thought it would be too difficult to make it to the standard I wanted it to be in just a couple of months. I’m also not very experienced in using fabric and foam for my models, and not having time to master those materials, I was honestly shocked I was able to make something that looked nice and neat. It’s one of my most popular models from all the projects I’ve done during my degree, which I never anticipated, but I’m happy that I was able to make something that could actually be used in an educational context, not just as a display piece.

What do you hope viewers take away when they see the Mock New Scientist Magazine Cover?

I hope people realise how fun modelmaking can be! Obviously, models can be super precise and clean, but they can also be silly and messy. You don’t need a huge workshop to start making models. The scene I made for the magazine cover was made out of really accessible materials like paper, clay, lollipop sticks, tinfoil, embroidery thread, paint and wood. It’s nice to have fancy machines and tools for more complex things, but sometimes the simpler processes are all you need to convey what you want to in a model. I wish more people were aware of modelmaking as a career in general, but also as a hobby that can be really fun, no matter what type of experience or workspace you have.

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All Images Courtesy of Melis Eres

Edited by Arielle Sam-Alao, Co-Fashion Editor