Warm kitty, Sleepy Kitty, Purr Purr Purr.
For those of you who found the previous post a tad too serious (and we always welcome you feedback!), here’s a set of illustrations for a childrens’ book Look At These Kittens! by Georgy Karlov. Please retweet and stay tuned! Cheers
Cowardy
Please welcome our new author Vadim Costyrin with his first but serious post on the present days of those born in the USSR, brought up by the Yeltsin’s coup and now left to seek their national and cultural identity all by themselves.
A performance at a kindergarten.
Once the USSR inspired us with fear, now this country does not exist. We have the big Russia and a lot of small and not so small, whimsical republics, for the right to include which in the sphere of their influence there fight politicians of the superpowers. Together with the Soviet Union we have lost Russians — our antipodes — against whom we willy-nilly matched. It may seem that it is a victory — but Russians want the USSR back, and after only two decades there are much more fears and threats.
It is always interesting to see how foreigners perceive Russia. This time there’s no exception — in 1957, during the 6th Worldwide Festival of Youth And Students, a Swiss reporter Léonard Gianadda spent a few hot summer days in Moscow, capturing not only the Festival programme, but random faces of Moscovites in the streets. 50 something years later, when we look at these shots, we forget for a moment about the politics, and repressions, and all the misfortunes the country has been through — we can only enjoy the life captured in these split seconds.
The summer of 1957
All images are by Lisa Larsen, for LIFE magazine.
In 1956 an array of British designers were trying to expand their market share into the Soviet Union. So a fashion week of some sort took place — in Moscow, Gorky Park, twice daily the shows took place. What a huge success it was! Every day it was a full house, and the public were in love with the British models and the fashion. Jeans, for instance, were very trendy and could cost as much as a month’s salary — yet one still had to queue up to get a pair.
However, after so much ado, not a single British clothing company ever received any Soviet offers of cooperation. Sad, really — just like Christian Dior in Moscow, it could have been a beginning of a beautiful friendship.
…and we are back on air after our short break! Sorry it was unannounced, but very much needed — and we are delighted to reconnect with you again. We’ve got lots of great stuff coming — from kids summer camps through to some amazing amateur photography as well as we shall look at each decade in detail — what 1940s, 1950s, 1960s and so on meant to the Soviet Union, and how it lived differently to the rest of the world. So — thanks for your feedback and stay tuned!
Just a very light post for today, before we dig any deeper — a very neat collection of humorous postcards — great to see some good natured jokes all the way from 1950s and 1960s.
Future Champions. By G. Valk.
You’re in the army now
The compulsory two years of military service was a rite of passage for every Soviet guy. When one turned eighteen — unless for sickness or injury — it was time to be called in for the military life — two years in the barracks. The guys usually bonded well and during their spare time created so called “Discharge Albums” — like scrapbooks, they were full of photos, songs lyrics, quick notes from the buddies etc.
The only person to escape the Iron Curtain by swimming.
By job he was an oceanographer, by heart he was a dreamer, by nationality he was a citizen of the planet Earth — in short, he was an extraordinary guy. Yet his personal file in the USSR was stamped as “not worthy of an exit visa” so he was not allowed to leave the country, even if it was for a holiday. So in December, 1974 he jumped a cruise boat “The Soviet Union” off the coast of the Philippines islands — and he swam to freedom.With no food or drink, no swimming equipment apart from flips and goggles, he swam to the shores about a hundred kilometers for three days — completely alone at sea.