Russian photographer Anastasia Tsayder offers an illuminating case study in Summer Olympics, a series that revisits some of the venues the Soviet Union built for the ill-fated 1980 Summer Games in Moscow. “[I wanted] to tell a story about the hopes for a utopian future encapsulated in this architecture,” the photographer says, “and about how far from reality these expectations turned out to be in the end.”
Few arrive at their destinations with anything but the necessities of life. The International Rescue Committeeasked a mother, a child, a teenager, a pharmacist, an artist, and a family of 31 to share the contents of their bags and show us what they managed to hold on to from their homes. Their possessions tell stories about their past and their hopes for the future.
A gift given to England’s Charles II in 1660, The Klencke Atlas featured state-of-the-art maps of the continents and various European states. It was also notable for its size. Standing six feet tall and six feet wide (when opened), the volume remains 355 years later the largest atlas in the world.
“We collect it in bags, and then the crew hauls it over to the U.S. side,” Layne Carter, who manages the ISS water system for NASA, told Bloomberg. “We don’t do 100 percent of the Russian urine. It depends on our time availability.”
Rose gold, however, has quite a different symbolic valence. Deliberately adulterated, it is gold that has an inclination to be something else. Rose gold is perverse. Unlike yellow gold—but like its cooler cousin, white gold, which is an alloy with nickel or manganese that has also risen and declined in popularity throughout the years—rose gold is subject to the vagaries of fashion. The desire it stimulates is inherently temporary. In rose gold, a substance of enduring value is transformed into a consumer item with the half-life of all things modish. Rose gold is decadent. It is gold for people who already have enough gold gold.