Few days ago I took part in the Childhood Week challenge by Beatrice Blue. It was my first time, and it was a challenge indeed (for me, because on top of things it overlapped with some personal events that allowed me to draw only for a limited time at night). This challenge was also an absolute delight of an experience, it brought back many lovely memories, and introduced me to countless talented illustrators from all over the world. I’m glad I joined, and looking forward to CW2021.
DAY 1: PACT
DAY 1: PACT
This is “sekretik” (“a little secret”) - a hidden collage-type activity, familiar to those, who spent their childhood in the Soviet bloc. Sekretik would be created out of flowers, coins, colorful candy crappers + whatever else the little artist’s vision required and had access to.
Then it would be covered by a piece of glass, and thoroughly buried in dirt.
This special artwork would usually be created in secret, and it would remain hidden, until it’s revealed to a close friend, someone you have a special bond with, who in turn would keep that secret safe with you.
DAY 2: FRESH
DAY 2: FRESH
Spending a giant chunk of summer at a “dacha” (aka a “summer village home”) was (and still is) a very common activity for many city folk on the Eastern Bloc.
In my case, our dacha was located in a remote little village somewhere on the way from Kyiv to Poltava 🇺🇦 (which would require a complex combination of public transport and other frustrating maneuvers to get to).
Dacha time was far from relaxing. It mostly consisted of tending to the fruit and vegetable garden, as well as taking care of the farm animals.
One of my favorite dacha jobs as a kid was to climb high up the fruit trees with a bucket, and spend few glorious hours picking fresh fruit - mostly cherries (the hardcore sour kind), apricots and plums - and feeling like a queen of the world, overlooking my domain from high above.
DAY 3:MISSION
DAY 3: MISSION
During my barefoot and nature-filled dacha summers, there was an important task I would be sent on every week: to get some fresh bread from the local (and only) village store couple miles from our house.
This affair would require walking through (what seemed then) a giant field, usually singing off the top of my lungs, and feeling like I’m the only person left in the world surrounded by all this exuberant nature 🌾 .
DAY 4: TEAM
DAY 4: TEAM
Building a “halabuda” (something like an outdoor fort) was the crucial activity among all the kids from the village neighborhood, where our dacha was.
The best halabudas would last several days, fit more than two people, and would have some type of interior decor and makeshift furniture, that would allow to take a nap, sit down for a meal, or have a super secret meeting.
DAY 5: THUNDER
DAY 5: THUNDER
I remember enjoying the feeling of awe combined with a small tickle of fear, each time I watched the storm unfold outside of my window. It felt that nature was turning into the powerful but friendly monster who was shaking things up a bit and refreshing everything around.
DAY 6: POWER
DAY 6: POWER
When I think of power, I think of all the little vehicles and apparatuses that help you go faster, higher, louder when you’re a kid: bicycles, roller blades, sleds. The rides at the theme parks were an advanced form of that power.
In Kyiv 🇺🇦 there is a recreational park on Dnipro river - Hydropark - that I liked to frequent. Along with beaches and places to eat, it was full of rides that seemed magical to me as a kid. The favorite was this double swing “Lodochka” (“little boat”) that I would spend the entire day on, if I could.
It was heavy and slow to start, but once it got going, the level of height and speed it would achieve would make us feel like we were flying for real. Our little kid knees would be left shaking for a long time after the ride was over.
DAY 7: SUMMER LITTLE ME
DAY 7: SUMMER LITTLE ME
Summer vacation for us (and for the majority of other middle class Soviet families) meant an overnight train trip from Kyiv to any coast town in Crimea, where we would stay for a couple of weeks surrounded by the joyful atmosphere, warm waves of the Black Sea, and all the beach treats you can eat (especially, the sweetest watermelon slices ever, hot corn on the cob with salt, and the glorious homemade waffle tubes with the most delicious dulce de leche filling - all sold by the babushkas walking around the beach).
The anticipation of all of that was almost as good as the vacation itself. The actual train trip would feature the obligatory "travel” dinner brought from home (chicken, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, boiled eggs and black Ukrainian bread), the scalding tea in the elaborate metal “train” glass holders (sold by the train conductor along with the special “train" lump sugar), card games, lots of reading and even more daydreaming - all while listening to the meditative sound of the knocking wheels as the Ukrainian countryside flew by behind the curtain.
The anticipation of all of that was almost as good as the vacation itself. The actual train trip would feature the obligatory "travel” dinner brought from home (chicken, fresh tomatoes and cucumbers, boiled eggs and black Ukrainian bread), the scalding tea in the elaborate metal “train” glass holders (sold by the train conductor along with the special “train" lump sugar), card games, lots of reading and even more daydreaming - all while listening to the meditative sound of the knocking wheels as the Ukrainian countryside flew by behind the curtain.
