From my mother.
From my mother.
The Russian Hall, formerly the Russian People’s Home, consistently produces typography so clear, so straightforward, so capitalized it is a manifesto in itself, design or political. This what happens when you try to produce design degree zero: the more you eschew style, the more you achieve it.
I found this on the consistently entertaining blog deletia. It was taken from Rolcats, a site featuring fake English translations of an Eastern Bloc version of Lolcats. Rolcats makes Lolcats look very, very amateur, which granted is not difficult. Below is the translation of the caption above, and deletia’s response:
It’s pretty hard for me to express how much I love this.
After weeks of snow in Vancouver I randomly searched for “Siberian interiors” on Flickr, just to see how snowy regions decorate. Maybe it has nothing to do with counteracting the blank endless wastes of snow, but the standard Siberian decorating philosophy seems to be “There’s No Such Thing as Too Much Pattern.” The exceptions were an amazing white shop interior in Novosibirsk, above, almost Swedish in its simplicity, and a museum version of a traditional Siberian wooden house, at bottom.
Like nomad fashion, Russian styles keep circulating and recirculating in fashion. Maybe it’s because layered-against-the-elements clothes are compelling in uncertain times. Whatever it is, and whatever romantic, escapist fantasy these styles are probably satisfying, they’re beautiful. This photo shoot is from the December issue of Canadian magazine Fashion.
These “modern nomad” or “urban nomad” styles appeared in Canadian fashion magazine Flare this fall, and Vogue and and others published similar photographs. Since fashion and other areas of design tend to be strangely prescient about historical circumstances – for example, American Depression-era styles were on the runway for nearly a year and a half before the recent stock market crash – does this interest in nomadism mean anything?