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Where there is no law, but every man does what is right in his own eyes, there is the least of real liberty
Henry M. Robert

THE UKRAINIAN SOUVENIR

13 November, 2012 - 00:00

Prior to Independence Day,The Day tried to find out how legitimate business was doing in terms of genuine national symbols.

WHAT ABOUT THE MACE? JUST TO HIT SOMEONE IN THE BACK?

We went down Andriyivsky uzviz, the capital’s art Mecca, and were almost floored down by the number of matrioshkas. Now this traditional Russian product was leading the market, with all the other souvenirs lagging way behind. Among the plump figurines we spotted images of Nicholas II (probably due to the ceremonious transfer of the royal remains to a prestigious Moscow cemetery), complete with all medals and orders adorning the last tsar’s breast. In fact, one could pay Hr 120 to have a set of ten such imperial portrayals, in the descending matrioshka order. Personally, I thought it more logical to fit all the members of the royal family within the central, largest figurine. And of course, there were matrioshkas offering a variety of Boris Yeltsin portrayals, leaving one wondering about the absence of the Ukrainian President. I asked a peddler and was answered that Ukrainian Presidents were not in demand. I thought this over and figured that Messrs. Kravchuk and Kuchma had become two absolutely incorruptible figures; they could be neither bought nor sold. Great!

Another popular and sellable item on display was a variety of Ukrainian Hetman bulava maces. One of the street peddlers, a woman wearing jeans, with peroxide blonde hair, looking like Marina Vladi, Vladimir Vysotsky’s wife, had a dozen such maces, varying in size and design. The merchandise came from Ivano-Frankivsk and other western regions of Ukraine, it transpired. Nothing like this is produced anywhere else in Ukraine. All this is artisan work. No production lines, of course.

“What is the material?” I asked the Vladi look-alike.

“Some are made using birch, the small and light ones. The bigger and heavier ones over here are made from pear tree. And this huge one, priced at Hr 30, is made from oak.”

“Why do you think people buy them?”

“As gifts, what else.”

“Maybe some might purchase a souvenir like this to teach their wives a lesson the hard way.”

“Could be, but how about a wife buying one to teach her husband?” she quipped in reply.

“In that case you should divide your maces into men’s and women’s. For example, the smaller ones made from birch. They definitely have a feminine touch. And the oak ones are certainly for the stronger sex.”

“That’s a good idea. Thank you.”

“And you could add a few maces portraying Schwarzenegger or Stallone.”

“Good Heavens, no. We have weird customers, but no one has asked for this kind of stuff. Our artisans prefer traditional ornamentation, and it looks good. You can for see yourself.”

True enough, the maces looked good. Somewhere halfway down Andriyivsky uzviz we noticed a mace priced at Hr 360, a hefty sum. The head made from labradorite, the handle from turquoise dolomite, with bronze spikes and ornamentation. The thing was breath-taking.

The peddler was pale undernourished youth sporting a blue T-shirt.

“You intend this kind of merchandise for millionaires visiting from the West?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. Our customs will never let it out of Ukraine. We’ve had sad precedents.”

“Why? There is no truly precious metal used. Mostly our good old Ukrainian granite.”

“Right, but the way it looks will make every Ukrainian customs officer jump and press the alarm button.”

“You mean they will let through some old stuff looking unimpressive but costing thousands of bucks, and will say no to a decorative locally made mace like this one?”

“You bet they will.”

“So who is your potential clientele?”

“The local nouveaux riches. They like buying this to make presents to one another.”

“I just can see a couple of them brandishing maces like this one, squaring their accounts. Serious business.”

Apart from matrioshkas and maces, there was a diversified assortment of textiles kept in the post-Soviet style (reminding one of Soviet propaganda idiocies): red T-shirts portraying a somber woman with a finger pressed to her lips, warning against talking too much (“The enemy is listening!”) and ones displaying an early Bolshevik motto: “All Rise to Fight Yudenich!” Personally, I was moved almost to tears spotting a T-shirt displaying a red commie flag with a gold-lettered legend reading: “From the Berezniaky District Communist Party Committee, in Recognition of Achievements in Your Socialist Competition (Organic Fertilizer Supply).”

In a word, the street market offered an assortment vividly reflecting the mess in our current mentality. However, there was one thing which attracted my attention and which I considered indisputably aesthetic: ceramic figurines of Zaporizhzhian Cossacks. Of course, it was kitsch, strictly speaking, but every piece was made with loving care.

They were not caricatures but rather burlesque images, reflecting the Cossack lifestyle: beer, boiled crayfish, and sabers, Especially a pot-bellied Cossack, the Ukrainian national hero, Taras Bulba, dragging a barrel of wine with one hand and a piglet with the other. Now this Cossack assortment offers serious competition to the matrioshka stuff. And all the Cossack goods turned out made by a firm, rather than so many individual artisans. And this firm looked good, on an upward curve, considering its business performance.

(See next issue)

Photo by Oleksiy STASENKO,The Day:

THE CERAMIC FIGURINES OF ZAPOROZHZHIAN COSSACKS IS THE ONLY THING THAT OUR SPIRITS UNANIMOUSLY REACT TO

 

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