Real USSR » family

Glass Negatives circa 1928

Eva Muryzhnikova — Sat, 17 Jul 2010 00:59:24 +0000

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.

A fashionista.

The glass slides. Dated 1928.

If anybody could help identify what these women are doing?

Late autumn

Sisters? Note the background

Another stylish couple. He reminds me of Clark Gable

River outing

Studying

A stylish threesome: mind the leather jacket

Harvesting

My favourie shot of the lot

If anyone could help us identify the little box? Milk? Tea? Coffee?

Everyone posing for the camera man

Still life

Woodworkers’ shop

City vistas

Family gathering

Winemaking?

Summertime. Apart from the watermelon, note the camera case in front. Now it would be called lomo

Lunch break

Harvesting. Plenty of apples this year!

TBC.

Summer in Gorky Park, Moscow of late 1960s

Eva Muryzhnikova — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 11:08:46 +0000

We are very fortunate to have gained the access to the collection of photographs below — they have come from a private collection of Eugene Orlov, a keen photographer of 1960s, scanned by his grandson. Portrayed is a series of shots from a summer walk in the Gorky Park, an iconic family recreational venue in Moscow. Please click on the magnifying lens image for the close up and if you like it — tell your friends!

Images courtesy of Eugene Orlov. Late 1960s.

Russian Ice Cream In Winter — Bring It On!

Eva Muryzhnikova — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 03:35:54 +0000

In the USSR, the very first ice cream factory was opened in 1932 — when the Minister of Food Supply (if translated not too liberally) Anastas Mikoyan visited the United States of America and was so impressed with their ice cream, he decided that Russia needed something of the kind. So the ice cream making technology and equipment were imported and the ice cream supply to all and everybody began. The process was highly regulated and, indeed, the quality of Soviet ice cream was enviable. If in 1932 the total amount of icecream produced was about 300 ton, then 10 years later it grew about 270 times — in 1940 there were 82 thousand ton of ice cream produced.

The city of Khabarovsk, 1970.

This numbers were lost during the WWII as the factories had to cease work — but it quickly recovered and by 1950 there was a 20% increase of what was made before.

The sweet choice: the brick, the cup, the cone, the works. Unfortunately, the flavour variety was limited to two flavours: plain sweet or chocolate.

Funnily enough, in Russia the ice cream on a stick had become synonymous with the word eskimo — named after the indigenous people of the Northern countries. You could walk in a shop and ask for two eskimos!

Everyone’s favourite treat

An ice cream street vendor. Moscow, 1959

Year and author unknown, yet a very sweet picture

Pioneers: I’ll have what he is having!

Moscow, 1934. Would have been one of the very first ones!

Another street vendor — apparently, there is some march of protest on and everybody is politically concerned

Image courtesy to LIFE magazine archives

Most likely it’s late October — early November, yet she must be making a mint!

A Moscow winter

Not your average job — selling icecream to the Russians

A cheery Soviet ad poster for the ice cream

So! What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up?

Eva Muryzhnikova — Wed, 02 Dec 2009 10:42:14 +0000

You will be quite a craftsman!

A Review of Occupations in the Soviet Society: the high, the low and the marginal.

The Professional Orientation in the USSR meant, first and foremost, a process of advising the youth on the future career choices. A group of teachers and fresh graduates of a college would go to high schools to give talks to school kids in order to deliver the first hand information on vocational choices. Every occupation is regarded highly in the Soviet Union — well, this slogan turned out to be quite untruthful. Please read on find out about the differences in social ladder between the different occupational groups. The hierarchy of labour was a prime element in social discrepancies in this country.

Certainly the system of socialism would deny the mere existence of the dual labour market, yet all occupations in the USSR occupations were covertly divided into the primary and secondary ones. If we were to analyse the Soviet media press releases, then we’d notice that 90% of all jobs mentioned in the papers as cover or success stories were of the working class origin. Certainly the list of jobs was just as wide as anywhere else in the world, however, the working class had a special attitude towards its.The working class was declared to be the base for the ruling socialism due to its hegemonic part in all part and future revolutions.

Gagarin, from ‘Paper soldier’ movie

There were two reasons for it – a political and an economic one. On one hand, it was well worthy to praise the hegemony, on the other – it was important to attract new members to its teams, as nobody really wanted to join in. The technical colleges – where one could become an electrician, a seamstress, or a locksmith – were a constant scare for the growing generation of high school kids. Like, if you don’t do well, you end up as a painter. This was the absolute and finest example of the Soviet double standards: from the papers the working class was praised daily, in reality, it was almost like a curse to belong to it. Certainly the workmen did well, they had respect in the society and they had their privileges, but nonetheless, it was somewhat of a forced choice. The USSR had a cult of tertiary education – of universities and institutes of all sorts, often of any sort, as long as it was a university, not a technical college. The highest-flying uni was the MGIMO – the Moscow State Institute of Foreign Affairs: diplomats, ambassadors, attaches and future politicians and ministers graduated from there. The Moscow State University was also highly regarded. These two had very high level entry exams, and often the knowledge itself was not enough – one had to be well connected to get in. Needless to say, kids of diplomats, ambassadors, attaches and politicians were destined right in.

MGIMO graduate

As for the technical universities, Moscow had a great range of those. Excellent engineers of all sorts were graduating in huge amounts, and, if a student had half a brain to hold on to his place, they became very knowledgeable and very employable specialists in the chosen field. However, the ideology went as far as to remain people that it was shameful to engage into a career path solely on the monetary rewards: the media, the movies, the books were constantly reinforcing the goodness of any job, regardless of the pay. Every now and then there would be a story full of good morale: how a guy would want to get rich quickly and abandon his geological research for the instant cash reward of being a taxi driver. The USSR philosophy was to strongly discourage such action. Interestingly, what strongly encouraged was a long tenure, a job for life kind of a thing. Those who liked to change jobs (or even worse, careers) often, were called “flyers” and it was a shame to be identified as one. Another unusual moment was that women doing the typically male jobs were praised highly. This Soviet phenomenon could possibly start after the war, due to the severe shortage of males, and then somehow lingered. Women operated heavy machinery, women did road works, women engaged in oil refinery – the list is long. We mentioned it in more detail in our article on Russian feminism. What didn’t occur to this staunch feminists was that the labour itself did not have to physical in order for a woman to be equal – managerial positions were just as good. Unfortunately, it was just as hard for a woman to make it to the top — as anywhere else in the world.

‘Postwoman’

To conclude, it would be a fair assumption to say that in the Soviet Union the most prestigious occupations were considered those of the importance to the well-being of the country. Everything which was related to a personal well being was always secondary and supplementary. Understandably, the people’s choice begged to differ: so a good-for-everyone hairdresser had more social leverage that a good-for-the-country production line worker.

Interior Design and Furniture in the USSR

Eva Muryzhnikova — Fri, 21 Aug 2009 06:27:25 +0000

Welcome!

As previously stated, the majority of people in the USSR lived in the apartments. Unfortunately, due to the the time constraints, they had to be built in a speedy rather than comfortable manner. After the war, when accommodation was extremely scarce, a three bedroom flat could accommodate up to 16 people (four average families), with one shared kitchen and one shared bathroom. The quality of living there was truly horrendous. So when Khruschev started his building binge in 1960s, a joke went that the legacy of those communal flats was agoraphobia – the fear of open spaces and the tendency to hoard things. Well, if you spent your formative years in a pokey flat where you’d have to dry your laundry next to the stove, you’d be just as agoraphobic.

So let’s look at the main trends in the interior design Soviet style.

Personal attachment

The severe deficits caused by planned economy had turned every Soviet into a thrifty squirrel hoarding everything, from tin cookie boxes to imported shampoo bottles. Everything which had a semi-practical implication (take an old tooth brush, pluck all the bristle out, heat it over a fire to bend in the middle – voile! You just made yourself a wonderful hook to hang clothes!) would have been kept for years, hence the overall cluttered look of a typical Soviet flat.

This is still “All in One” flat.

The habit to hoard

As we have figured, it grew out of extreme consumerism poverty, which barely anybody could escape. The constant visual hunger for pretty household things (say, the k-mart level would have been to die for, yet it was not there!) had lead to the lack of understanding of the true value of items. Hence the quantity of furniture items in a given flat was equated with the social status of its owners and overall achieving abilities. Considering there were no Tiffany lamps or Barcelona chairs, typically it was a sad cemetery of depressing clutter.

In a furniture shop.

Furniture essentials

During the Soviet times, the furniture shops had a truly non-existent range of furniture items. That’s why 95% of all apartments looked very much alike. The wall units were a must have, as they allowed lots of storage space and display. The sofa with two matching chairs was a popular item, however the irony was that the chairs were matching across the country. A lamp on a stand (aka torchere, after its French name) was also available.

Just another Soviet interior look.

Personalise it!

That’s why kitschy personalising was so in: macramé, tile mosaics, appliqué sofa covers, embroidered curtains, construction out of matches and paper snowflakes on windows every winter. Plus the rest of what was thought to be pretty (stuffed toys as a decorative element, artificial flowers in plastic vases, bamboo curtains etc), the look was truly sad.

This is more likely to be a village flat.

The standard Soviet wish list

Apart from wanting to own a flat, a motor vehicle and a summer bach on the allotment, the things that everybody desperately wanted to own included: a Yugoslavian wall unit (a piece of furniture having several units that stands against one wall of a room), a Polish bedroom suite, a collection of rugs (for the floors and for the walls, too!). A strange yet incredibly widespread habit of decorating the walls with rugs in the USSR took off in an instant and stayed till maybe late 1990s.

Dinner time.Please note the wallpaper, another Soviet craze, which is still popular.

And finally some appliances “Made In the USSR”

A vacuum cleaner, circa 1970s, to keep those carpets cleaned.

A device to manually clean the carpet by repeated hitting. Even those who could afford a vacuum claner would get one, to clean the carpet in winter on the snow.

A Soviet TV set, the image is still visible — it was often the quality of broadcast.

A manual meat mincer.

A semi-automatic washing machine (the crunching had to be done manually between the rolls)

Breakfast Time in Paintings by Russian Artists

Eva Muryzhnikova — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 07:26:16 +0000

Here is a twee collection of paintings by various Russian artists picturing breakfast time in Russia of different periods, from 1918 throughout to late 1970s. It provides some insights into an everyday life of simple people and their meals on the go, before work, very low key and casual.

Still life: Morning. By Kuzma Petrov-Vodkin, 1918. Just like anywhere else in the world, eggs are popular and the dog is hungry.

Just like many, Russians liked their eggs, bread and sausages — a hearty start of the day. The brass item pictured is samovar — a metal water boiler which has been around for centuries. These samovars have always been popular as part of tea making process — even nowadays you can find a moderninsed version of one in almost every house. It is also a popular wedding gift and a traditional Russian souvenir, as it symbolises hospitality and qulaity family time.

Still life: bread, eggs and a teapot; by Nicholas Kalmykov. 1958.

Apparently there is a concept of Russian Tea that exists in the West: strongly brewed black tea with a wheel of lemon and generous amounts of sugar. This sweet and sour concoction is indeed popular in Russia, however, nobody calls it “Russian tea”. Just tea with lemon.

Tea party; by Popova. 1966.

A cup of coffee; by Elena Shumakova.Can’t go wrong with cheese and pastries!

In summer there were healthier alternatives available: freshly picked strawberries and cream in a jug would be enjoyed just like anywhere else in the world. Please note the fine lace of the tablecloth — very popular in Russia of all times.

Berries and Cream; by Elena Shumakova, 1983

Another country life illustration; please note a slighly different shape of the samovar. Also — bagels, extremely popular Russian wheat snack. Sugar cubes, a frequent substitute for regular sugar, which was hard to buy at times. A traditional tea glass, with an iron glass holder, an icon of those times and a well sought after collectable item now.

Still Life: Samovar; by Elena Shumakova.

On the terrace; by Zhukovsky.Neat!

Naturemort: five eyed fried eggs; by Osmerkin, 1950.

Another model of samovar and a more common breakfast altogether: eggs, butter, bread.

Morning Tea and Flowers; by Grabar; 1939.

To finish off, a few paintings which do not exactly picture breakfast times, but still appear very Russian and full of ambience.

February; by A. Laktionov, 1956.

Alcohol-inspired paintings tend to have lots of zest for life, too.

Still life: a Teapot on the Table; by P. Konchalovsky. 1946.

Still life, name and year unknown, by Elena Shumakova.

Country Life (name of paper), by Bobrov. 1983.

How Khrushchev Had Killed the “Vampire”

Dmitry Yakimenko — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 22:26:31 +0000

Building binge commenced in the Soviet Russia in 1955 when the Central Committee of the Communist Party issued a decree “About elimination of unnecessary extravagance in architecture”. The pre-war, Stalin-approved architecture was notable for monumental columns, high-stud ceilings and indispensable stucco mouldings. This was a Soviet version of Empire style (or “Vampire”, coined by contemporaries) and it was about to fade away.

Project of the Palace of soviets (1772x1374). Sadly, was not built due to the lack of financing.

Nikita Khrushchev who replaced Josef Stalin made a decision to build cheap houses at mass volumes. At that time the residential accommodations in еру USSR was in a totally disastrous condition – only 10–15% of urban population had private apartments; the majority of this group appertaining to the governing elite. The ordinary Soviets mostly lived in d.i.y wooden sheds - that comprised to around 30% out of all urban accommodation ( and possibly even more in some regions, like Siberia). Now those sheds are hard to imagine, however, there are still remnants of those in some remote places. Toliets, bathrooms, and even water supply were often missing.

A survivor. This one is up and still going. You’d hope to live upstairs, wouldn’t you?

So the mass construction of houses without unnecessary extravangances had commenced. To understand the scale of those developments, simply compare the following figures. From 1917 to 1941 (when the War began) 200 mln of square metres of accommodation was built. 70 mln was destroyed during the War but about 50 mln was restored in late 1940s. Whereas during the seven-year period from 1959 to 1965 more than 300 mlns of sq metres of accommodation was built — and hundreds of new flats got occupied right away. The first wave were the brick houses (those are still highly valued on the modern secondary house market). Despite tiny kitchens and quite pokey layouts, those flats had balconies and (sic!) separate toilets and bathrooms as well as soundproof walls! Really, those brick apartment blocks were a good deed of the Soviet system.

House on the bank of Moscow River

As it turned out in 1957, the population growth exceeded the speed of the construction. The change of power from Stalin to Khrushchev gave optimistic hopes to Soviet people, which in turn resulted in the Soviet baby boom. So, after two years after the first resolution, the Communist Party issued a second one “About residential accommodation development”. This resolution stated that constructors did not pay enough attention to panel and block-based construction and, hence, made a start to a new type of buildings. They were five-storeyed panel blocks without rubbish chute or elevators, assembled in less than a month. This manic constructing of 1950s was one of the most popular themes of the Soviet art. Mass demolitions of wooden sheds and, at the same time, demolition of antique buildings of tsarist Russia, were celebrated in a number of the Soviet movies. The typical movie showed a close-knit family moved into a separate flat where the typical urban landscape was studded with building cranes. That was an end of the era of shared households where people tenanted in huge communal flats with public kitchens and shared facilities.

Typical urban view, early 1950s

Certainly the difference to those wooden sheds was tremendous. Still, it is interesting to see what a typical Soviet flat looked like. The main distinguishing feature was a toilet of an incredibly small size. It was personally set by Nikita Khrushchev who tried the model of the toilet and said “If I fit into this toilet, they would also fit”. As the result, the toilets designs were based on the Khrushchev’s dimensions.

Khrushchev announcing the commencement of housing development, mid 1950s

As for the kitchen, it was often small enough to fit only one person of average size, whereas somebody bigger (let alone obese) may not have fitted at all. It is believed that the tiny size of the kitchen originated from the communist ideology. It was supposed for the people of this society to have lunch in a workplace and dinner at a cafeteria. It was also assumed that would be no need for the pantry as everything would be available from a local food shop. This approach resulted in the lack of space for the fridge. Instead, these flats were equipped with a so called “Khrushchev’s Fridge”. It was a small closet under the window approximately 1 x 1 metre in size where people could store some food only in the winter time, as it had an actual hole in the wall.

Literally — apartment blocks.

New suburbs, early 60s

Interesting to note how these apartments were allocated to people. One had to file a formal request for an apartment, and then wait for an approval. Importantly, the wait was never longer than a number of years and usually those who needed their own dwelling — like, young couples — were granted it. The queue might have been sped up in some extraordinary circumstances — like, for academics, sportsmen, high achievers on the production line etc.

The scheme of allocation usually worked as followed. The couples with no kids were given a studio, a living room with a separate kitchen. A family with a child were entitled to a one bedroom apartment. Two kids family would get a two bedroom flat. Three bedrooms was as big as any apartment got — no matter how many kids one had, they all would have been accommodated in three measly bedrooms. Oh well, with an average of 2.1 kids per Soviet family, and an overall scarcity of accommodation, this never seemed insufficient.

These five-storeyed buildings were being built until 1985 and they spread across the whole country. In 1985 the massive construction stopped. It was replaced by convenient individual construction of apartment building where the new apartments were not available for the majority of ordinary people any more. Then, it actually turned out that Khrushchev’s massive construction of tiny and inconvenient flats was not a bad thing — rather, an act of humane care, actually the one out of a small number of positive things of that time.

A well-to-do Soviet family having dinner in their relatively luxurious Moscow apartment. They are among the few in the city who have a new, modern apartment and elegant furnishings. — Image by © Wally McNamee/CORBIS

Source: www.sobesednik.ru