Things

In the state-run economy of the Soviet Union, there was no competition among designers or manufacturers, meaning there was little incentive to redesign goods or improve their quality. The launch of any new product came with bureaucratic delays and refusals from factories, despite the fact that new products were commissioned and entirely paid for by the state. Therefore, things that did get made were produced in millions of copies. People across the country used identical furnishings and appliances; their children all played with the same toys. Without a culture of consumerism, people bought things once and treated them carefully. These objects were functional and honest, and although somewhat rustic and rough, they were durable.

It might be expected that this extremely standardized living would lead to feelings of depersonalization and detachment from one’s surroundings. However, the opposite was true. Common objects, some unchanged for decades, became a part of the collective memory and acquired special meaning in Soviet culture. Items like cigarettes, matches, kefir bottles, and even the mesh bags (avoska) used to bring goods home became important subjects in the works of unofficial artists.

At the same time, people’s inherent desire to customize and personalize the standardized products introduced elements of craft and manual labor to factory-made objects. The shortage of goods encouraged a practice of do-it-yourself using available materials that produced functional, but often absurd-looking objects. Such creativity was further inspiration for artists and created a fertile ground for commentary in their work.

By exploring Soviet industrial design in relation to nonconformist art, we can replace oppositional views on industry versus craft, planning versus improvisation, and even good or bad design with more complex models that acknowledge the role of mutuality, appropriation, and accommodation in producing the everyday environment.

The Nevalyashka doll, which later became world famous, was originally designed for babies that have just learned to sit. It was made of bright plastic and featured a unique mechanism that made the toy return to an upright position no matter how hard it was pushed. It also made a melodic sound when in motion. The idea for the doll was borrowed from Japan.

An avoska is a reusable mesh bag used for shopping. When folded, the woven string bag takes up very little space, and conveniently fits in a handbag, briefcase, or coat pocket. People often carried a shopping bag with them every day “just in case” they might make a purchase at lunchtime or on the way home from work; disposable bags were not available at Soviet stores. Special hooks were often used to hang the avoska on the edge of a table or on the handrail in public transportation. In the U.S.S.R, string bags were woven at the production enterprises of the All-Union Society of the Blind (V.O.S.). The design of the avoska changed very little over the decades. A classic string bag was woven in fourteen rows of twenty-four cells, with a maximum load of 70 kilograms (154 pounds).

Photo Peter Jacobs

Working with found objects on the surface of this painting, Evgenii Rukhin enclosed a Christian icon inside an avoska, a reusable mass-produced net bag made of string which had strong cultural associations with the hardships of daily life. The avoska was a household accessory carried along “just in case” by Soviet citizens for spontaneous shopping. Its name derives from the Russian word avos, which means “maybe,” in the sense that one might happen upon something unexpectedly. Since religion was officially forbidden, the icon held the status of a rarified and holy object and was associated with genuine spirituality. In choosing to juxtapose these two seemingly-unrelated cultural artifacts, Rukhin was commenting on the precarious state of life in the Soviet Union. 

Making homemade fizzy drinks was a festive ritual and common family activity in the Soviet Union. Despite the fact that soda could be purchased in stores or vending machines, almost every family had a siphon at home. During the 1960s-1970s, mechanical factories and industrial plants produced two types of siphons: metal and glass. There were also refillable cans of carbon dioxide, which could be turned in at a hardware store in exchange for new ones. A metal siphon was considered more reliable, but a glass siphon made it possible to see the process of carbonation. Siphons were made of bright colors, and sometimes had unusual shapes—for example, the form of a penguin. Glass siphons were sometimes decorated with a net cover. By the 1990s, making homemade soda became less popular and siphons came to represent the Soviet past.

New Goods was a monthly periodical published by the Ministry of Trade in the Soviet Union between the 1950s and 1980s. The magazine featured descriptions of the latest innovations in the production of household appliances and electronics, cosmetics, clothes, shoes, vehicles, and toys. The articles in the magazine covered topics such as problems of mass production, product ranges, design, and the quality of goods. They were written by industrial and commercial workers. However, many of those goods were very expensive and not sold in most stores, and the articles in New Goods were mainly intended as propaganda for the latest achievements of the Soviet consumer industry.

The Space Age had a strong impact on the visual language of Soviet design, as reflected on the products of the time, like this commemorative postcard set. With the unprecedented achievements of Sputnik and Yuri Gargarin, posters, postcards, books, and magazines in the Soviet Union were filled with space-themed illustrations. During the 1950s, artists depicted futuristic dreams of humans mastering the universe, while in the 1960s illustrations focused on life in space. They depicted imagined scenes such as astronauts looking through spaceship windows at distant stars, strolling around cities on other planets, and watching the launch of a spacecraft. The “Khrushchev Thaw” of the 1960s influenced not only the content of illustrations, but also their color palette—their style became bright and fantastic, with abundant iridescent colors.

The Soviet astronaut Yuri Gagarin became the first human to travel into space and orbit the planet on April 12, 1961. After his return, a celebratory parade was thrown in his honor. It was held in Moscow’s Red Square and attended by millions of people. He was awarded the official title of “Hero of the Soviet Union,” along with other medals signifying his achievement. As a result, Soviet astronauts became national heroes and the toy industry began to mass produce astronaut toys for children. In the 1960s, tree decorations, like this astronaut toy, and everyday objects featuring astronaut and space motifs became a common part of the Soviet domestic environment.

The magazine Tekhnika Molodezhi was founded in 1933 and remains one of Russia’s leading popular science monthlies to this day. A narrative of scientific and technological progress was created in the pages of the journal, which chronicled the achievements of industrialization, developments in nuclear science, the exploration of space, and other important discoveries and one-of-a-kind technologies created by Soviet academics and engineers. The magazine’s trademark is its combination of historical information and high-tech, high quality pop science, along with inventive projects and new hypotheses. It pulls the reader in with its stories about exciting inventions and innovations, the mysterious and unknown, and remarkable inventors and explorers, as well as its colorful and detailed illustrations of historical and modern technology.

These vases were created at the factory of the Artists’ Union of the U.S.S.R. The Union was a non-profit creative organization with a commercial branch—the Art Fund of the U.S.S.R. The tasks of the Art Fund were to coordinate and distribute jobs among artists, facilitate the creative activities of artists, and improve their material and living conditions. In addition to controlling various manufacturing enterprises of the creative industry, such as factories, workshops, stores, and galleries, the Art Fund also organized exhibitions of state art, oversaw the interior design of public buildings, and produced interior decorations and souvenirs.

The VEF-201 portable radio receiver was one of the most popular radios in the U.S.S.R. It was launched into production at the Riga State Electrotechnical Plant VEF in 1969. As one of the largest factories in Latvia, the VEF factory was a leading producer of telephone exchange systems, telephones, radios, and other products. The VEF radio receiver was designed for sophisticated broadcasting and was powered through a battery compartment, making it possible to transport it easily. Products originating from the industries of Latvia are remarkable for their elegant design, which is characteristic of Northern European craftsmanship.

Production of this TV set began in 1969 at the Mezon Plant in Leningrad. The model was dedicated to the 100-year anniversary of Vladimir Lenin’s birth and it’s name “VL100” stands for "Vladimir Lenin, 100 years." The TV set was designed to receive 12 standard television channels by a telescopic antenna. It was available in red or blue and sold both as a ready-made set or as a DIY kit.

Photo Peter Jacobs

Items of everyday life often made their way into the subject matter of unofficial Soviet art, such as matches, kefir (fermented milk drink), or cigarettes. Soviet cigarette packs were commonly illustrated with memorable designs and had short, emblematic names like those in the painting: Priboi (Surf), Sever (North), and Kazbek (Mount Kazbek). Tobacco use was widespread, and such objects gained cultural significance as a common feature of Soviet life found in most social and domestic settings. Alexander Kosolapov’s painting North juxtaposes six such cigarette packet images in a grid layout to convey the idea of a remote Arctic frontier. Elements of Soviet production and fine art combine in this display of Pop Art irony.

Photo Jack Abraham

In this composition painted over a fringed banner, Konstantin Zvezdochetov uses irony to depict the fictional character Mal’chish-Kibalish. A young village boy who turns into a wartime hero, Mal’chish-Kibalish was created for political propaganda and popularized through children’s literature. The artist playfully exposes the absurdity of Soviet propaganda, placing the bourgeoisie-fighting character into humorous unlikely settings, such as paradise. Made with found materials, the work pays tribute to the aesthetic sensibilities of the Soviet do-it-yourself ethos, emphasizing its eclectic and kitschy qualities.