Inside the Tiny Shed of a DIY Miniature Maker in Scotland

Karen Bones doesn’t just recreate buildings — she rebuilds memory, character, and a bit of grit, brick by brick. From Glasgow pubs to the cottages of Culross, her miniatures are full of love, imperfection, and life.

NOSTALGIA

13 Apr 2025 — 19 min read

🟠

We send quiet, thoughtful stories like this one straight to your inbox. No spam. No fluff. Just human moments. Subscribe now →

We’re in the shed now.

It’s tiny and cosy, packed with cardboard buildings, glue pots, paints, music, stained glass — and a little doll that looks suspiciously like the artist herself.

This is where Karen Bones builds her world — one miniature at a time.

A former painter and lifelong goth, Karen now spends most days turning cardboard into buildings. Not grand ones or architecturally precise models — but the places that feel real. The pubs with nicked tiles, the houses with ghost signs, the lanes that smell like a night well spent.

Tiny replicas of Glasgow buildings with shop signs and graffiti

She doesn’t work from blueprints. She works from memory and impressions. A flicker of light on stained brick. A story someone tells at a market. A place that just won’t let her walk past.

Her models aren’t replicas.

They’re portraits — full of warmth and weathering. And Karen loves every minute of making them.

A woman holding a miniature house model outside a rustic building in Culross, Scotland

In Their Own Words: Karen on Finding Her Way into Model Making

Full transcript of our conversation with Karen.

My name is Karen, and I make miniature models. Before that, I worked as a freelance illustrator for years, mostly sketching buildings in Culross and Fife. But before illustration, I worked in the bar trade. Drawing bars came naturally, and everything really began there.

I studied illustration and printmaking at Duncan of Jordanstone in Dundee. Later, I discovered an artist in London building models from balsa wood and card. I wondered if I could do something similar using recycled cardboard. I had loads of it lying around the studio.

My first model was very rudimentary, very basic, but it was surprisingly well received. Since then, it’s taken off. I now work mainly with recycled cardboard, though I use anything that fits — buttons, packaging, plastic. But it always comes back to cardboard.

Iconic Builds

My years working in Glasgow’s bar and music scene have shaped my work. Bars and venues are a recurring theme. Many are now closing, which makes documenting them feel even more urgent. Each model becomes a kind of memory-keeper.

A miniature model of the Barrowland Ballroom in Glasgow with neon stars and signs

My favourite model so far is probably Glasgow Barrowland. It was the first one I lit from the inside, which made it a real challenge — but it’s also the one I’m best known for now. My favourites change often, though. I’m always drawn to whatever catches my eye at the moment.

“Nick’s Cave”

I build everything in my wee shed. It’s a small 8×6 sanctuary in the garden that I retreat to constantly, shut the door, music on, fire on, and get building. It was bought during lockdown when my husband took over the spare room. I insulated and decorated it myself. It’s cosy and full of everything I need.

A woman painting a miniature inside a cosy art shed, seen through a window

My shed has become a personal space full of little talismans. I’m a huge Nick Cave fan, so a friend dubbed it “Nick’s Cave.” I listen to his music as I work. I also have stained glass from a friend, and a photo of five of my oldest college friends right above my desk.

I have lots of things around my shed that are really personal to me. Apart from the posters and postcards of Nick Cave, right in front of where I work, there’s a photograph of five of my oldest college friends — they inspire me and help keep me going. I also have quite a bit of stained glass in the shed, made by a friend of mine. I just love looking at it with the light shining through — it brings me a lot of joy.

A woman sits in a cosy craft studio with model buildings and art supplies

I also have a doll in my shed that, mysteriously, looks just like me. She’s a fairly new addition and came from a girl I spoke to online after seeing her work on Facebook — she makes dolls and teddies. She doesn’t usually take commissions, but I used to make puppets myself when I was at art college — I’ve gone from figurative work to buildings since then. When I saw her dolls, I asked if she’d be up for making one of me. I’d never done one of myself, and I thought — why not?

I wanted it to look like me in the ’90s. I’m still a goth, but these days I’m more of an ageing goth. She was lovely and put it together with all the right touches — stripy tights, leopard print — and sent it over. I absolutely love it. The doll now sits on a shelf in my shed and watches me while I work.