As a kid, I was convinced that my mom and her friends carried around in their bags all sorts of magical items, plus of course a couple of bricks. Mom’s bag was always so heavy. I could not lift it. I thought there was some kind of law that they needed to carry bags like this – in case they needed to save the world or something.
As a grown man, I can’t really say I find handbags and purses any less puzzling.
So, driven by curiosity, I decided to ask a bunch of women I know, as well as a few strangers I bumped into on the street, to let me photograph the contents of their bags.
I spent a couple of months wandering around St. Petersburg asking every woman I met to “show me what’s in your bag.” Some thought I was a mugger, some thought I was insane. Pretty predictable reactions, I guess. And yet some agreed.
Those that did agree, I noticed, took great care in helping me to arrange the contents of their bags on a piece of black cloth I carried around in my backpack. Only then would they let me photograph the composition on which we had collaborated.
Some women were actually very surprised by the contents of their own bags. Apparently, they had not themselves looked inside them for quite some time (perhaps for a year or more). This I could see in their eyes, which said, “No, no, that could not be mine.” It was very funny.
Finally, I asked each woman to allow me to snap a picture of their ID photo – from their passport or driver’s license. That was perhaps the hardest part. Some women joked, “Please don’t take out a bank loan using my passport data.” Honestly, as a photographer, I am used to just about any reaction from my subjects, and this was not so bad.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der November/December 2019-Ausgabe von Russian Life.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der November/December 2019-Ausgabe von Russian Life.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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Sidewalk Art
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the Valley of the Dead
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Russian Chronicles
Russian Chronicles
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Over the past century, the ancient people known as the Votes has been exiled twice, has seen its language banned, and has faced the threat of having its villages razed. Today, although teetering on the verge of extinction, it holds fast to one of the last rights it enjoys – the right to bear and to say its own name.
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Here I stand, on the summit of Anik Mountain, drenched to the bone amid zero visibility, driving rain, and a fierce wind.