Sherlock Holmes VS USSR: 1 Nil.

My iPad has really got me read­ing recently. On iBooks almost all of clas­sic lit­er­a­ture is free, so I am read­ing a book by Arthur Conan Doyle  — The Adven­tures of Sher­lock Holmes: The Man with the Twisted Lip. There was a pas­sage that struck me as remark­able (or, as Conan Doyle would put it, rather singular):

One night — it was in June 1889 — there came a ring to my bell. … We heard the door open, a few hur­ried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room.

120742 max 500x397 Sherlock Holmes VS USSR: 1 Nil.

The Soviet movie illus­tra­tion of this book. 1979. Vasily Livanov as Sher­lock Holmes and Vitaly Solomin as Dr Watson.

Really. In June 1881, just like that, Sher­lock had linoleum, which was noth­ing extra­or­di­nary at the time — given he was pre­sumed to some­what strug­gle finan­cially, and thus his need to share a flat. In the USSR — and this is the point I am mak­ing now — linoleum was one of the high­est sought-after prod­ucts until at least early 1980. I wouldn’t believe it myself, but I remem­ber how excited my Mum was when in 199o we man­aged to “secure” some of this pre­cious mate­r­ial to floor the kitchen in our apartment.

What was the price of those space explo­ration pro­grammes if linoleum was a scarce com­mod­ity at least for a cen­tury after it became wide­spread in the rot­ten, cap­i­tal­is­tic West? You feel my pain?

The Wall: the Unaccounted Tragedies.

As pre­vi­ously stated by George Orwell, war is peace. So when Wal­ter Ulbricht, the Leader of the Ger­man Social­ist Unity Party, on June 15, 1961 said: “No one has the inten­tion of build­ing the wall!”, it took only about two months for the con­struc­tion to begin. The run­down state of the East­ern part was forc­ing peo­ple to flee in the search of bet­ter lives in the West of Ger­many: in the first six months of the year 1961, about 150 000 peo­ple left their houses. How­ever, more stayed — and so the Wall did not only sep­a­rate the city — it cut fam­i­lies in halves.

1 500x333 The Wall: the Unaccounted Tragedies.

On the morn­ing of August 13, 1961 the Berlini­ans woke up to the first layer of bricks being erected.

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Mriya The Plane: The Biggest Dream

005 500x363 Mriya The Plane: The Biggest Dream

The super­plane car­ry­ing a Buran.

In 1984 the big coun­try needed a big plane. Antonov Design Bureau was entrusted with devel­op­ing of a plane for large-sized cargo trans­porta­tion. A six-motor super heavy tur­bo­jet plane An-225 «Mriya» («dream» in Ukran­ian) became the prod­uct of the design­ers’ four-year work. The air­craft, which will cel­e­brate it’s twenty years anniver­sary of its first test flight, still remains the absolute cham­pion in terms of load-carrying capacity.

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Glass Negatives circa 1928

Chem­i­cal pho­tog­ra­phy as we know it today was not invented in a day — one of the stages in devel­op­ing was the glass neg­a­tives pho­tog­ra­phy, when the   glass plates were cov­ered with a pro­tein emul­sion — invented in 1841, the process was clunky and dif­fi­cult to repro­duce. Those images can now be iden­ti­fied by the uneven coat of emul­sion, rough edges, thick glass and maybe even photographer’s thumbprint on it.

All in all, below are the 20+ images from the glass neg­a­tives — the shots of Soviet coun­try­side life, shot around 1928. Peo­ple, har­vests, views, tools — what­ever the pho­tog­ra­phy afi­cionado encoun­tered.  Con­sid­er­ing that this is pre-film, the spirit of these pho­tos is mind blow­ing. We hope you’ll share our excitement.

111 375x500 Glass Negatives circa 1928

A fash­ion­ista.

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How Much Watch? Ten Watch!

1 350x500 How Much Watch? Ten Watch!

Free post­cards as a mar­ket­ing ploy.

In 1959, a Soviet watch­maker Mash­Pri­bor­In­Torg had what’s now called a solid mar­ket share of all watches and clocks made in the USSR. This ugly acronym stood for Machin­ery and Gad­get Over­seas Trade, and the fac­tory made all the famous Soviet brands of watches which could be found in every house­hold: Polet (Flight), Slava (Glory), Raketa (Rocket), Chaika (Seag­ull) and more pompous names, which in real­ity were good sturdy reli­able watches: my Grand­dad had his Slava for more than 20 years, and never there was a com­plaint! For some rea­son, these goofy dolls were picked to adver­tise the watches, and today we have found a col­lec­tion of post­cards pic­tur­ing a good set of such dolls wear­ing the Soviet trib­utes to fine watch­mak­ing. Enjoy!

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Oleg Popov, The Sad Clown

In about six weeks this remark­able man will cel­e­brate his 80th Birth­day. Who is he? The most pop­u­lar clown of the Soviet Union, also known as the Sun­shine Clown, Oleg Popov is true icon of its own. Born in 1930, he had on of the tough­est upbring­ings ever — yet he man­aged to become one of most recog­nis­able peo­ple of the 20th cen­tury: he also was in Guin­ness Records Book for “being pop­u­lar in the West and in the East”.

levit9 445x500 Oleg Popov, The Sad Clown

On top of his game. Oleg Popov in 1976.

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