On Revolver Aesthetics, Part 4 - Deconstructing a good design
As promised in the
last installment, today we'll be taking a
look at one iconic revolver and discover how it follows the design
principles we've explored.
The Colt Python easily makes just about everyone's "top 5 revolvers" list. Much of its popularity is due to its gilt-edged accuracy and superb out-of-box action (though, of course, it can always be better. This has been an obvious plug.) However, it's drop-dead-gorgeous looks are no doubt a huge part of the reputation it enjoys.
So "right" is the look of the Python that S&W paid it the honor (though they'll deny it) of copying the distinctive barrel profile in their "L" frame guns. They couldn't get the rest of the gun, though, and that's sad - because, as we'll see, the Python's appearance is a function of the whole gun. (Before you shoot off that hate email, understand that the 686 series are pretty good looking guns in their own right; it's just that they don't achieve the high level of design excellence that the Python does. Keep reading, and hopefully you'll begin to understand why.)
We're using a typical 4-inch Python as our example, since it is not only the most common, but also the best looking of the various Python incarnations.
What do we see when we look at the Python?
The first principle we learned about is proportion - the relationship of elements to each other, and of the whole design, in all measurable aspects.The 4-inch version is near ideal; the barrel, which often looks skinny on other guns, has sufficient volume to hold its own against the cylinder and frame; in fact, one gets the feeling that if the barrel were to be compressed lengthwise, its width would grow proportionally to end up the same dimension as the cylinder. The trigger and triggerguard are perfectly proportioned to each other, and the combination to the frame. Note the hammer tang; having a large pad for easy cocking could have made the hammer proportionally too large for the rest of the design. Through judicious thinning and shaping, the designers made a hammer that complimented the design rather than stood apart from it.
Closely related to proportion, we learned, is the concept of balance, or of visual equilibrium. Here again the Python design simply shines. The Python's gripframe, often criticized for flaring too much, gives needed visual balance to the heavy lugged barrel and frame. The gun has a visual center of balance right in the center of the gun. Contributing to this is the barrel's vent rib; were that top rib solid, it wouldn't look as balanced as it does. Take, for example, the S&W copy:
Without the vents in the barrel, it simply looks front heavy compared to the Colt original; there is a feeling that it will tip forward, while the Python doesn't. (That huge front sight ramp doesn't help, either.)
Eye movement in the Python design is almost classic. If we start at the muzzle, the lines of the barrel - repeating between the lug, the central portion, and the rib - serve to draw the eye toward the cylinder. Once there, the pointed ends of the flutes send the gaze to the cylinder release, whose shape directs the eye to the hammer tang. This is were the design shows a particular genius: the gentle curve and overall shape of the hammer directs the eye in a clockwise spiral to the grips, where their shape sends the gaze to the trigger. The strongly curved trigger - much more curved than on any other brand of revolver - is a sort of "ski jump" that propels the eye back to the barrel.
Note especially the cut of the frame under the barrel down to the triggerguard, and compare it to the S&W. Note how the Python has just a bit of an angular cut with just a hint of curvature, which serves to visually lighten the gun and give it a "flying" feeling. It also serves to help redirect the eye from the trigger back to the muzzle; the S&W, in contrast, looks "blocky", far less graceful, and stops the eye dead at that point. Design is often about such "minor" details!
Which brings us to emphasis, or design elements that arrest the eye without causing visual fixation. It is a design touch that causes the gaze to linger, rather than stop. It's terribly easy for the eye to leave a revolver at the hammer or muzzle, because those are points to which the eye tends to be sent by the barrel and cylinder combination. That gorgeous Python hammer hammer begs to be looked at, but it isn't so overwhelming that the viewer's gaze ends at that point; it serves to slow the eye down, then redirect the gaze to the next element. Were it larger or smaller, it wouldn't serve the same purpose. It is a perfect example of design emphasis, as is the thumb latch that slows the eye down just enough to make sure it doesn't miss the hammer spur.
The front sight shape - and the barrel vents - tend to keep that from happening at the front. If we look back at the S&W picture, you'll notice that the front sight ramp tends to serve as a launch point unto itself, sending the eye right off the front sight into space. On the Python, the sight is enough to stop the eye from taking off into the hinterlands, but not so much that it becomes a stopping or launching point on its own. The vents are a point of contrast, being quite angular in comparison to the smooth curves of the rest of the revolver. That contrast is just enough to catch the eye, but not enough to look out of place or in conflict with the rest of the design elements. (As we'll see in the next part of this series, making a contrast without creating visual dichotomy is a tough task - and not always achieved.)
Finally, when we look at the Python we see an overall unity, the feeling that every element is working to support the overall design. Achieving unity starts with the finish (which is a point of emphasis all by itself.) That deep, glassy "Royal Blue" finish for which the Python is famed is a strong component that ties together all of the elements. It's not the only unifying feature, however!
The shape of the thumb latch repeats the shape of the cylinder flutes, which themselves appear to be continuous from the barrel lug. (So good is that combination, when you look at the gun as a whole it almost seems to be one solid piece of steel from the muzzle to the end of that latch.) Note too how the barrel cross-section matches the frame contours where the barrel is attached, and how the contour of the frame under the hammer is reminiscent of the curve of the triggerguard. (Take a look at the S&W; note how that same curve is much shallower, and doesn't really recall that of any other part of the frame.) Even the points where the triggerguard meet the frame are identical front and rear, which augments that feeling of cohesion.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. One must look at revolver design not just as a series of parts, but also at how those parts work together to produce a design at which the eye can't seem to stop looking. The Colt Python is, in that regard, the ne plus ultra of revolvers.
In the next installment, we'll look at designs gone awry, and find out why some guns are just plain ugly. Until then, always remember: life is too short to carry (or shoot) an ugly gun!
-=[ Grant ]=-
The Colt Python easily makes just about everyone's "top 5 revolvers" list. Much of its popularity is due to its gilt-edged accuracy and superb out-of-box action (though, of course, it can always be better. This has been an obvious plug.) However, it's drop-dead-gorgeous looks are no doubt a huge part of the reputation it enjoys.
So "right" is the look of the Python that S&W paid it the honor (though they'll deny it) of copying the distinctive barrel profile in their "L" frame guns. They couldn't get the rest of the gun, though, and that's sad - because, as we'll see, the Python's appearance is a function of the whole gun. (Before you shoot off that hate email, understand that the 686 series are pretty good looking guns in their own right; it's just that they don't achieve the high level of design excellence that the Python does. Keep reading, and hopefully you'll begin to understand why.)
We're using a typical 4-inch Python as our example, since it is not only the most common, but also the best looking of the various Python incarnations.
What do we see when we look at the Python?
The first principle we learned about is proportion - the relationship of elements to each other, and of the whole design, in all measurable aspects.The 4-inch version is near ideal; the barrel, which often looks skinny on other guns, has sufficient volume to hold its own against the cylinder and frame; in fact, one gets the feeling that if the barrel were to be compressed lengthwise, its width would grow proportionally to end up the same dimension as the cylinder. The trigger and triggerguard are perfectly proportioned to each other, and the combination to the frame. Note the hammer tang; having a large pad for easy cocking could have made the hammer proportionally too large for the rest of the design. Through judicious thinning and shaping, the designers made a hammer that complimented the design rather than stood apart from it.
Closely related to proportion, we learned, is the concept of balance, or of visual equilibrium. Here again the Python design simply shines. The Python's gripframe, often criticized for flaring too much, gives needed visual balance to the heavy lugged barrel and frame. The gun has a visual center of balance right in the center of the gun. Contributing to this is the barrel's vent rib; were that top rib solid, it wouldn't look as balanced as it does. Take, for example, the S&W copy:
Without the vents in the barrel, it simply looks front heavy compared to the Colt original; there is a feeling that it will tip forward, while the Python doesn't. (That huge front sight ramp doesn't help, either.)
Eye movement in the Python design is almost classic. If we start at the muzzle, the lines of the barrel - repeating between the lug, the central portion, and the rib - serve to draw the eye toward the cylinder. Once there, the pointed ends of the flutes send the gaze to the cylinder release, whose shape directs the eye to the hammer tang. This is were the design shows a particular genius: the gentle curve and overall shape of the hammer directs the eye in a clockwise spiral to the grips, where their shape sends the gaze to the trigger. The strongly curved trigger - much more curved than on any other brand of revolver - is a sort of "ski jump" that propels the eye back to the barrel.
Note especially the cut of the frame under the barrel down to the triggerguard, and compare it to the S&W. Note how the Python has just a bit of an angular cut with just a hint of curvature, which serves to visually lighten the gun and give it a "flying" feeling. It also serves to help redirect the eye from the trigger back to the muzzle; the S&W, in contrast, looks "blocky", far less graceful, and stops the eye dead at that point. Design is often about such "minor" details!
Which brings us to emphasis, or design elements that arrest the eye without causing visual fixation. It is a design touch that causes the gaze to linger, rather than stop. It's terribly easy for the eye to leave a revolver at the hammer or muzzle, because those are points to which the eye tends to be sent by the barrel and cylinder combination. That gorgeous Python hammer hammer begs to be looked at, but it isn't so overwhelming that the viewer's gaze ends at that point; it serves to slow the eye down, then redirect the gaze to the next element. Were it larger or smaller, it wouldn't serve the same purpose. It is a perfect example of design emphasis, as is the thumb latch that slows the eye down just enough to make sure it doesn't miss the hammer spur.
The front sight shape - and the barrel vents - tend to keep that from happening at the front. If we look back at the S&W picture, you'll notice that the front sight ramp tends to serve as a launch point unto itself, sending the eye right off the front sight into space. On the Python, the sight is enough to stop the eye from taking off into the hinterlands, but not so much that it becomes a stopping or launching point on its own. The vents are a point of contrast, being quite angular in comparison to the smooth curves of the rest of the revolver. That contrast is just enough to catch the eye, but not enough to look out of place or in conflict with the rest of the design elements. (As we'll see in the next part of this series, making a contrast without creating visual dichotomy is a tough task - and not always achieved.)
Finally, when we look at the Python we see an overall unity, the feeling that every element is working to support the overall design. Achieving unity starts with the finish (which is a point of emphasis all by itself.) That deep, glassy "Royal Blue" finish for which the Python is famed is a strong component that ties together all of the elements. It's not the only unifying feature, however!
The shape of the thumb latch repeats the shape of the cylinder flutes, which themselves appear to be continuous from the barrel lug. (So good is that combination, when you look at the gun as a whole it almost seems to be one solid piece of steel from the muzzle to the end of that latch.) Note too how the barrel cross-section matches the frame contours where the barrel is attached, and how the contour of the frame under the hammer is reminiscent of the curve of the triggerguard. (Take a look at the S&W; note how that same curve is much shallower, and doesn't really recall that of any other part of the frame.) Even the points where the triggerguard meet the frame are identical front and rear, which augments that feeling of cohesion.
I could go on, but I think you get the idea. One must look at revolver design not just as a series of parts, but also at how those parts work together to produce a design at which the eye can't seem to stop looking. The Colt Python is, in that regard, the ne plus ultra of revolvers.
In the next installment, we'll look at designs gone awry, and find out why some guns are just plain ugly. Until then, always remember: life is too short to carry (or shoot) an ugly gun!
-=[ Grant ]=-
|