This Russian saying summarizes the article emailed to me by the local (and maybe even regional) knitting goddess PlazaJen.
The store hired Shepard Fairey, the artist who created the stylized Hope poster of Barack Obama that became one of the most highly visible, though unofficial, images of the presidential campaign, to design its catalog covers and shopping bags. They bear a rather unsubtle allusion to advertisements made in the 1920s for state-run department stores in the Soviet Union.
Russian posters of 1920’s served as a primary source of commercial as well as social advertisement, when a drawing and a short phrase understood by mostly illiterate population conveyed a simple message or directive. There is a reason why contemporary designers keep coming back to these styles – they just look cool and as an added bonus in the West – exotic. Even I used it to create the header for the this site without knowing anything about Alexander Rodchenko who was one of the founders of Constructivism as this style is called.
I scavenged a few posters for your enjoyment:
Few commercials that I might have previously linked here also take advantage of this style.
No place makes life seem so short like a cemetery. Birth, childhood, first steps, first words, school, first love, family, kids, work, feelings, thoughts, achievements, joys, tragedies – everything that makes up a person’s life becomes just a dash between the two dates. Most of the people will never have anything named after them, will not be a subject of a documentary or even have their own article on Wikipedia; no one will want to dress up like them, sell their costumes or posable figures. At the cemetery we promise not to forget, but to the next generation a person becomes just an image on strangely colored photos, a subject of nostalgic anecdotes and a name on a small gravestone. Their children will wonder about the origins of their foreign-sounding middle names, tracing them on a family tree compiled by an aging relative, trying to capture the memories before they are slowly dissolved in time. The only difference between us and our ancestors is that we leave more proof of our existence – photos, videos, blogs, facebook profiles – these things will probably float around somewhere long after the end date is stamped on our gravestones.
No place makes a person want to live like a cemetery…
Couple of weeks ago unbeknown to you the Russian population of this Metro Area has doubled for a few days. A surprising number of Russian-speaking coaches, parents and participants arrived to Kansas City for the U.S. Fencing North American Cup Tournament. There were of course many others (some of them even Americans :-)) but the number of foreign languages spoken at the Bartle Hall that weekend was indicative of a huge European influence on the sport of fencing. Among the participants was my niece from New York City which gave me a good reason to see the sport for myself. I spent two days at Bartle Hall watching and taking pictures, and while my photos are nothing to write home about, the people with good cameras probably had better things to do, so this is all I have.
Fencing may not be as popular as other sports but it’s lightning fast, physically demanding, psychologically challenging and beautifully choreographed. It doesn’t hurt that fencing may be an asset for college admissions. For kids like mine who don’t seem to enjoy team sports this is an attractive option. There are a few local clubs in Kansas City, one was started by a famous Russian Coach who since moved on to become a head coach at Ohio State and the other one still has a Russian Coach.
Here are just a few out of almost 300 photos I took with my slow camera.
In this video I slowed down the motion a little just to demonstrate ballet-like quality of fencing.
httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xPDpdezHTx0
This video is a short clip of one of the final bouts.
httpvh://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-H2nCganaWc
By the way, commonly used word touché originates in fencing (not to confuse with the Yiddish word tuches which means something entirely different).
This Russian saying summarizes the article emailed to me by the local (and maybe even regional) knitting goddess PlazaJen.
