There are comfortable projects.
Then there are projects that remind you how much you still have to learn.
I’ve been happily building Wild West terrain for weeks now. Timber buildings, dusty streets, little bits of scatter terrain—it’s familiar territory. I know what I’m trying to achieve, and every session feels like progress.
Then I pulled Trent’s giant off the shelf.
Years ago, when Trent from Miscast visited the old Knights of Dice studio, he sculpted this incredible giant using a two-part epoxy putty called Need It. It’s a fascinating material—hard as rock once cured, easy to carve and shape—but what really stands out is the sculpt itself. It’s full of strange textures, exaggerated anatomy and character.
He left one of the casts with me.
When I recently rediscovered it in my painting cupboard, I knew I wanted to finish it.
Before any paint touched the model, I made a few changes of my own. The original face felt a little too goofy for what I wanted, so I reworked it into something darker and a little more unsettling. Not “grimdark” exactly—I’m definitely not a Chaos painter—but something that better suited the miniature.
Then came the hard part.
Painting Outside Your Comfort Zone
I’m not a display painter.
Most of what I’ve painted over the years has been fairly traditional—soldiers, fantasy characters, historical miniatures, gaming pieces.
This giant isn’t any of those things.
I remembered watching Trent paint one of his own creations using vivid coloured primers. Bright metallic pink from underneath. Brilliant green from above. At first glance it looked almost wrong.
Then, somehow, it transformed into something incredible.
That’s one of the things I’ve always admired about artists like Trent. They can throw colours together that seem completely chaotic, yet by the end of the process everything somehow makes sense.
I don’t have that instinct.
At least… not yet.
Learning By Doing
So I did the only thing I could do.
I started throwing paint at it.
Pink underneath.
Green from above.
Then some orange.
And suddenly I found myself staring at the model wondering what on earth I’d done.
For a while it honestly felt like I’d made a terrible mistake.
But instead of stripping it back or starting again, I kept looking.
The shield started suggesting leather.
The armour looked like it wanted rust.
The scars across its back suddenly begged for deep purples and bruised flesh.
Little by little, the model started revealing where it wanted to go.
That probably sounds strange, but I think most hobbyists understand exactly what I mean.
Sometimes you don’t impose a vision onto a project.
Sometimes the project slowly tells you what it wants to become.
Being Uncomfortable Is Part of the Hobby
I realised something while working on this giant.
Feeling overwhelmed isn’t a sign that you’re doing something wrong.
It’s usually a sign that you’re learning.
If every project feels comfortable, you’re probably repeating techniques you already know.
Growth lives in that uncomfortable space where you’re constantly thinking:
“I have absolutely no idea if this is going to work.”
That’s exactly where this giant has put me.
And honestly?
I’m loving it.
It’s Not Finished Yet
There’s still a long way to go.
The spray paints I’ve used are beginning to repel some of the acrylics, so I’ll let everything cure properly before sealing it with a matte varnish. Once that’s done, I can keep building up layers, adding details and hopefully bringing the whole thing together.
Will it end up looking anything like one of Trent’s miniatures?
Not even close.
But that’s okay.
The goal was never to paint like someone else.
The goal was to learn something from watching someone else’s process, then discover what my own version looks like.
Right now, the giant still feels unfinished.
Still a little mysterious.
Still slightly intimidating.
But every time I sit down with it, it tells me just a little bit more about what it wants to become.
And I think that’s one of the most enjoyable parts of the hobby.