From Matte to Mirror: Rendering the Mosquito and Mitchell Bomber

When I’m asked to draw something realistic, I secretly hope the subject has plenty of reflective surfaces- not because I enjoy the technical challenge, but because reflection makes a drawing pop. It’s one of the easiest ways to create a sense of realism.

For my partnership with the Alberta Aviation Museum, however, I found myself working with subjects on completely opposite ends of the spectrum.

De Havilland Mosquito

The De Havilland Mosquito, a World War II aircraft, featured a camouflage paint job that gave it a distinctly matte surface. In other words, it had very little reflectivity. This created a unique challenge- unlike highly polished aircraft, which rely on highlights and glare to convey realism, the Mosquito required careful control of value, tone, and subtle surface variation. Without reflections to do the heavy lifting, achieving realism depended entirely on precise shading and restraint. Push it too far, and the aircraft risked looking flat or even cartoon-like.

While working on the Mosquito, I used a black-and-white photograph taken during the war to establish the aircraft’s perspective. To determine the correct colouring, I then compared that reference with photos I took of the aircraft in the museum. (A challenge in itself, given the differences in lighting and preservation.)

Once the final rendering was finished, I observed that even though the drawing was technically accurate- it still looked flat. Almost cartoon-like.

So, I exercised a bit of artistic liberty.

(For those unfamiliar with the term, “artistic liberty” essentially means: I’m the artist- I can do whatever I want!)

Even though the real aircraft had very minimal surface glare, I chose to subtly enhance certain areas with a touch of artificial shine. That small adjustment brought the piece to life, giving the aircraft the visual “pop” it was otherwise missing.

North American B-25D Mitchell II Bomber

On the other end of the reflective spectrum was the North American Mitchell II bomber, an aircraft defined by its fully metal exterior. This plane was incredibly reflective. Instead of struggling to create visual interest, the challenge here was the opposite: how do you define form when every surface is catching light?

With glare appearing across nearly every part of the aircraft, it became a careful balancing act- using reflections to describe the structure without letting them overwhelm it.

For this piece, I sourced my perspective reference from a photo I found online. It looked amazing. Dramatic, dynamic- everything you could want in a reference image.

However, that “epic-ness” came at a cost.

The aircraft in the photo was flying on a bright, sunny day… over water. Which meant that every single panel reflected intense sunlight from above, while also picking up a blue cast from the ocean below. Light was hitting the plane from everywhere.

That alone would be a challenge- but there was another complication.

I wasn’t drawing the exact aircraft from the reference photo. I was drawing the version in the museum. So I had to translate the paint job and details of the museum aircraft into the extreme lighting conditions of the reference image.

In other words, I had to merge two completely different realities into one cohesive drawing.

I, like you dear reader, was incredibly intimidated.

Here’s my go-to strategy when I don’t know how to draw something: break it into smaller parts and start with whatever feels least intimidating.

In this case, that was the nose of the aircraft- which is essentially one large window.

I started with the glass. There were deep browns, blacks, and then hints of blue… and more blue. As I worked outward, I realized I wasn’t just drawing the window anymore- I was starting to define the body of the aircraft itself.

And then it hit me.

Wait… this entire aircraft is blue.

It sounds obvious, but I hadn’t perceived it that way at all. Standing in the museum hangar, the metal read as grey or even black- because it was reflecting the shadows of the space around it.

But in reality, the aircraft had a subtle blue undertone. It was honestly a great lesson in color theory. I did not see the blue shade until it was directly contrasted with the black window.

That realization changed everything. To make the drawing feel accurate to the museum version of the plane, I didn’t need to reinvent the rendering- I just needed to shift the underlying tone. The same structure, the same reflections… just with a cooler, blue-grey base.

Once that clicked, everything started to fall into place.

Moments like this are what I love most about these projects- every aircraft comes with its own set of puzzles to solve.