I have received several comments from my readers about how beautiful Russia seems to be. On one hand, I certainly do not want to disabuse anyone of the notion that Russia is a beautiful country, for it has many incredible works of architecture, and some exceptional scenery, and many things/places are indeed beautiful. But I must admit that for the most part I have only posted pictures of attractive places and things. Part of this is personal vanity; it is easier to take attractive photographs of an attractive subject. Aesthetically pleasing images of things that in general are not all that aesthetically pleasing are a little tougher to produce. But, in the interest of presenting an accurate view of Russia, I have decided to start photographing more of the mundane aspects of life in Vladimir.
I did not actually do very much over the course of my weekend (see yesterday's post), mainly due to a combination of cold, rainy weather and three midterm exams which needed to be written. But on my way home late yesterday afternoon, as the low, grey sky spit occasional droplets onto my face, I decided that it was as good a time as any to begin photo-recording the more depressed aspects of life in Russia. I stopped first at the Church of the Archangel Michael (in the Soviet era it had been converted into the Museum of Clocks and Time, although it yet again serves as a functioning Orthodox church), and took some shots, mainly because I hadn't yet taken a decent photograph of the place, despite the fact that I pass by it at least twice a day.
I did not actually do very much over the course of my weekend (see yesterday's post), mainly due to a combination of cold, rainy weather and three midterm exams which needed to be written. But on my way home late yesterday afternoon, as the low, grey sky spit occasional droplets onto my face, I decided that it was as good a time as any to begin photo-recording the more depressed aspects of life in Russia. I stopped first at the Church of the Archangel Michael (in the Soviet era it had been converted into the Museum of Clocks and Time, although it yet again serves as a functioning Orthodox church), and took some shots, mainly because I hadn't yet taken a decent photograph of the place, despite the fact that I pass by it at least twice a day.
Realizing that continuing to photograph Orthodox churches was not really my goal of the day, I decided to take a slightly different route home than usual (following Ulitsa Razina instead of Prospekt Lenina), which at the very least produced different scenery. (I was going to say "more interesting scenery," but then I realized that would not really have been correct in the least.) Ulitsa Razina was lined, for the most part, by the boring, brick apartment buildings which are so common in this country. I took a few pictures. If my goal was mundanity, I had found it. (Hmmm. Spell check doesn't seem to think "mundanity" qualifies as a word. Well I like it and it stays.)
I also passed what was obviously a factory of some sort, surrounded by a high concrete fence lined with razor-wire. I didn't take any pictures, as they don't so much like their factories to be photographed, and I'm hoping to go the full year without any overzealous militsia representative confiscating my camera. I do wish I had photographed it though, because I found a sign by its main gate, identifying it as the Vladimir Macaroni Plant. Razor-wire? Who are you trying to keep out? You make freakin' pasta!!
When I was about a block from my house (Razina parallels Lenina one block to the south), I did find something photogenic. It was one of those old, wooden, Russian homes that I love so much, yet it had a gaping hole in its roof. As I photographed it from a distance, I assumed it to be abandoned, but when I got close to take some shots of the carved wood trimming, I could see various objects on the windowsills: a plastic flower, a bottle of shampoo. I was too chicken to get close enough to actually peer in through the windows. Were these objects left behind when the home was abandoned, or do people actually live there? I do not know.
When I was about a block from my house (Razina parallels Lenina one block to the south), I did find something photogenic. It was one of those old, wooden, Russian homes that I love so much, yet it had a gaping hole in its roof. As I photographed it from a distance, I assumed it to be abandoned, but when I got close to take some shots of the carved wood trimming, I could see various objects on the windowsills: a plastic flower, a bottle of shampoo. I was too chicken to get close enough to actually peer in through the windows. Were these objects left behind when the home was abandoned, or do people actually live there? I do not know.
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