Monet’s Garden, the Isle of Capri, Prague’s narrow laneways – I understand how beautiful surroundings inspire artists. But a dimly lit backyard shed in regional Australia? That’s something else again. 

Peter Krajnc creates exquisite automotive-themed dioramas in modest surroundings and on a tight budget. But take another, closer look. This is the work of an artist of the highest calibre. And he lives in Wangaratta, Victoria.

I couldn’t help but notice Krajnc’s ‘studio’ is a little on the shabby side during my guided tour. It certainly offers little promise of the beauty that emerges from within.

As I inspect a miniature figurine of Holden team manager Harry Firth, Krajnc stops to close the workshop’s blinds. He explains softly, as if not to wake the sleeping models, that it keeps the sun off his precious creations. “The paint fades on the cars if too much sun gets on them,” he says.

In one corner of the shed, sitting beneath a windowsill, is Krajnc’s crowded workbench, crowded with tools of the trade – miniature saws, pliers, paint bottles and glue tubes.

Off to the side of the instruments rest finely detailed miniature human heads sitting mutely in small filing trays, awaiting attachment to their similarly scaled plastic bodies. There are also scratch-built oxy torches, what appears to be a woman’s necklace and a jig Krajnc has fabricated for assembling scale office chairs and tables.

Next to the workbench is a large wooden wardrobe heaving under the weight of countless model kit boxes, as yet to receive Krajnc’s magic touch. The scale modeler says he hopes to piece them all together one day. Maybe he will. I suspect he won’t.

 Krajnc has acted as a full-time carer for his elderly parents for many years. The isolated lifestyle fosters an amazing eye for detail and the patience of Job. Clearly a disciple of accuracy, he directs my attention to the intricate detail of a miniature oilcan. “I’m going to change that,” he says, staring at its invisible imperfections. “It’s not quite right.”

I’m sure he is right. I just don’t know why.

It takes a person with the artistic insight of Krajnc to create these amazing pieces. The job includes conceptualising the finished diorama, interviewing subjects, sketching detailed plans, researching books and films, sourcing resources, constructing parts and assembling the models. It’s not for the fainthearted.

Before long, I run my eyes covetously over his collection of accurately detailed dioramas. But it’s Harry Firth’s miniature workshop, complete with Peter Brock’s Holden LJ GTR XU-1 Torana and GTS 350 Monaro that stops me in my tracks.

Clearly impressed after inspecting the diorama, the son of Brock’s mechanic, Ian Tate, reported to Krajnc he was spot on with the piece, apart from one detail – Harry Firth stood in the wrong place (he always sat in the workshop’s corner).

It’s a good thing Krajnc glues nothing down. That’s right. Nothing is permanently attached to their bases. Not those spanners, the racks of tyres, even the workshop broom leaning against the wall. Harry Firth is not even fixed in place.

“I’m always changing the dioramas, adding to them and finding out that things are in the wrong place. I leave them now, so I can move things around,” says Krajnc.

 Models and dioramas cover every available shelf and tabletop in Krajnc’s shed. His collection includes Stirling Moss’ Mercedes-Benz 300 SLR sports car, ‘Birdcage’ and 250F Maserati racers, and some Formula One open-wheelers. But it’s easy to see a parochial glint in the model-maker’s eyes.

Of his several dozen dioramas many are Aussie muscle or V8 Supercar-themed. Allan Moffat’s Ford Falcon GTHO Phase IIIs, Brock’s Toranas and Monaros, and the Commodores and Falcons of Craig Lowndes, John Bowe and Dick Johnson dominate. Some bear the signatures of their legendary pilots.

So it’s interesting to hear that Krajnc’s first automotive love is not cars at all – it’s motorcycles. It was bike riding that gave the Victorian his start in model making, and dozens of motorcycles and bike-themed dioramas sit proudly amongst his collection.

“I began by making motorcycles,” he says. “Then I asked myself, ‘How can I display these better?’ So I started making pit scenes for the bike models. But bike garages aren’t big or involved, with lots of tools and things. So I began building car displays instead.”

Krajnc began by building the smaller 1/24th scale model cars, but when the bigger, more detailed 1/18th scale started becoming more popular, especially with Australian muscle and racing cars, his creativity went into hyperdrive.

One of Krajnc’s talents is spotting artistic merit in mundane objects – the things most people have lying around their house, or throw in the trash.

He points out a set of silver brake drums collected on a workbench in his Maserati racing car display. Krajnc reveals he uses dental floss spools to make the brake centres. Touched up with paint, they became realistic mechanical accessories. There are bottle tops, tree branches, and jewellery items in his dioramas as well, but only the keenest eye will spot them.

Promising material appears in hardware stores and junk shops. A useful item he uses often is printer’s plate – thin aluminium sheet he cuts with scissors and fashions into intricate body panels. Painted and re-formed, it’s almost unrecognisable as a pencil-like Maserati 250F bonnet, complete with its many air vents. The local printer – who would normally toss it in the bin – gives it to Krajnc for free.

 The all-important figures in his creations come from scale model soldier collections. Cut up and manipulated into new positions, Krajnc sends the figures to Queensland where a specialist molds them into new plastic race drivers and pit crew. Krajnc then customises them further by adding a cigarette drooping from a mechanic’s lips, or miniscule cloth handkerchiefs tied around their necks – some have pockets bulging with oily rags.

One area where Krajnc rarely ventures is altering the cars. There are a couple of racers showing oil and dirt stains, and one diorama features a rusty old tow truck, but in the main he leaves the metal or plastic kits as they come out of the box.

Sourced mainly from local Classic Carlectables and Biante collections, the models are usually accurate, says Krajnc. He doesn’t like to change them too much because he alternates them across his dioramas, or occasionally he trades them in order to buy something new. It’s better to leave them alone, he says.

One of Krajnc’s favourite pieces is his Maserati workshop diorama featuring a complete 250F racer alongside a dismantled example showing its inner workings. The diorama took over a year to construct, not including the research.

But it’s not finished, he tells me, asking if I can see the spark plugs on his workbench. Craning my neck and straining my eyes, I can just make them out. “I need to make little packets for them,” he explains. “Maserati had their own spark plugs and I need to get a photo of them first before I can do that.” There’s no doubt about it, Krajnc is fussy.

The model maker then reveals one of his next creations. Still in its infancy, it’s an office with wooden doll’s house furniture and wood-panelled walls craftily constructed from wooden placemats. “This is going to be big,” he boasts, pointing to a figure seated in a yet-to-be-finished office. “I am going to add a workshop to the side of it.”

Krajnc works with a couple of local wood turner mates who fashion items like oxy bottles and air compressors for him. He also has a train hobbyist friend who mills brass items, which are then posted to Queensland to have molds taken.

Krajnc has wide-ranging taste in ‘real’ dream cars. Though he finds it hard to disguise his Ford bias, he admits to admiring the last-generation Monaro’s style. But true to form, the Ford GT two-door coupe appeals to him.

Being a two-wheel enthusiast at heart, though, Krajnc also wouldn’t mind getting his leg over an MV Agusta F4 1000 for Sunday rides. He would also like to attend more historic car and motorcycle races at the nearby Winton racetrack, when he has the time.

Krajnc sneaks in a few hours of model making when most of Australia is asleep. He now has a little more time on his hands and is keen to get back into more regular hours.

It’s work that pay poorly. Krajnc knows most people don’t appreciate the time he takes to produce museum-worthy pieces. So he will only take a commission if a client is prepared to pay a fair price.

Some of Krajnc’s dioramas take 900 hours to complete, and that doesn’t include research, interviews, design and sketching. So at even a modest hourly labour rate, plus the raw materials, it can add up to a high-priced investment. People have tried offering $200 for a piece, but Krajnc is worth more than that.

The model maker is pragmatic about the situation – he simply enjoys his craft for the love of it. But it’s also a frustration. An artisan of his standing should be in great demand. His amazingly detailed work is worth the money and the people who can afford it should form an orderly queue.

Money is not at the forefront of Krajnc’s mind though and hastens the conversation onto his next piece. “I wouldn’t mind doing something on Le Mans,” he calls down the driveway as I hop into my car to leave. “Maybe something with those beautiful Jag D-Types …”