Anastasia Volkova

Anastasia Volkova's photographs are simple beauty, mellow light, soft focus. Her photographs are what you would like the background of your engagement pictures to look like. They remind you of bubbles and cupcakes and kittens and kisses and clothes and all sorts of other "girl things." Sugar and spice and everything nice.

Or Russians; I suppose they could fit in there, too. Hell if I know how Miss Anastasia describes her own photos--I can't read Russian, nor am I motivated enough to copy the URL into Google Translate and let it hack away at the characters. It's a good thing that language barriers don't inhibit you from admiring photographs...




















Type Type Type*

* title may or may not reference a late night, sleep-deprived inside joke between Hans and I

Now go be distracted by pretty fonts so I don't have to explain the inside joke.




















Power Pants

You know how businessmen have "power ties?" You know, the ties that they don on the day of an important presentation so that they, in turn, feel more confident. Well, red pants have much the same effect for unemployed college graduates. Well, at least one unemployed college graduate, anyway.


Granted, my greatest sense of confidence today was during a high school pep rally. My dad (a newspaper photographer) had commissioned me to take photos at the gathering. My job? Take pictures of the Homecoming King and Queen.

Halfway through the coronation, two giggly seventeen year old girls came and stood right in front of me. I was already sitting on the floor, in the middle of the aisle, my back to 500 people. I had ker-plunked myself there in hopes that I could get a few pictures and now, suddenly, teenage hands, ears, hair, arms, legs, toes, fingers, eyebrows, armpits ... it was all in my way.

I leaned forward. "Hey, girls, I'm sorry, but ... " they turned around at my whisper and stared at me, an intruder six years their senior. I sighed. "I'm taking pictures for
The Gazette, and I need to make sure I get some good shots, just so you know. I really appreciate it."

"OoooOOOOoooh!" They exclaimed, giggling. "Yeah, definitely!" Boom. One down, to my left. Boom. The other down, on my right. Obviously, it was the power of the pants (and not my gentle politeness) that made these girls sit down next to me.

Pants: 1
Teenage Girls: 0

After the pep rally, I went back home and took pictures of myself in the backyard because, duh,
everyone does that.

However, I didn't seem to come up with any good pictures this time, either. (If you would like a heavier dose of sarcasm, in addition to awkward cheese-colored sweater photos, go here.)


The obligatory overexposed "Headless-Horseman" shot.



The "I'm going to conceal my need to pee by crossing my knees and smiling gleefully" pose.


The "I'm just lounging on my steps. .... with my cat" pose.



Power Pants are powerful. And bright.



Sparkly.



The, "SCREW THIS I'M GOING TO THE HAMMOCK" shot.

Pants: Old Navy (I do have "rock star jeggings," but "saucy red" isn't showing up.)
Sweater: thrifted
Shoes: Target, about six years ago
Pin: antique, found while cleaning my room
Belt:
Forever 21

This Just Reminds Me of Easter

I don't know what kind of mood I was in when I compiled these images. Perhaps I was eager for Easter again. Or I was feeling light and airy and springy. I don't know. I can tell you, however, that these cupcakes are making me hungry.



















Can't-Pass-Up Hand-Me-Downs

Cleaning out my items from the basement also encouraged my mother to purge her things. I ended up with several hand-me-downs (you know, to take up the space I had just emptied).

I decided to keep both my mom's old cheerleading sweaters. They're from the fall of 1973, and they actually fit me pretty well. I wore one to my cousins' cross country meet, in fact.




These patches are from my mom's letter jacket.


She also gave me three items that I am never bound to lose. The first is my grandmother's class ring (1953). The middle one is my mother's wedding ring. My parents were married in 1978, two years before my brother was born. My dad actually lost
his ring on the honeymoon (which, perhaps, should have been a clue to their evident split eight years later). The black ring is my grandmother's engagement ring (1954). It fits my right-hand ring finger perfectly, but I refuse to wear it, as the stone is somewhat loose.



These earrings were not from my mother; in fact, I have had them since I was about nine or ten. I do not remember who gave them to me; they either came from my great-grandmother (now deceased) or the mother of an elderly woman with whom mom used to work. Each earring is either screw-on or clip-on. They are without-a-doubt antiques, and I refuse to get rid of them. (My pins and earrings remind me of this picture.)



Again, this necklace is something I had from before. (In fact, with the exception of the rings, each piece of jewelry here is something I acquired when I was a child.) I have no clue where this necklace came from, but I would like to know how much it is worth, if anything. It's made by "Van Dell," a company that no longer exists.



On the same day I did my cheese-sweater shoot, I took the following pictures. Being unemployed and all, I thought I could keep myself out of mischief by taking all of my antique and vintage items outside. (I later found this collection of images, which was similar.)





















Yes, indeedy. I hung a sweater on a fence post. DON'T JUDGE ME.
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