By Ivan Kharkevich
Leningrad artist Ivan Kharkevich's entrance Album is a distinct ancient and inventive record of the second one global warfare. Kharkevich has accrued an important examples of the crimson Army's "weapon of counterpropaganda" - his drawings and photomontages for newspapers, leaflets and different Agitprop, together with prints and drafts of diverse anti-war propaganda posters from 1941-1945. The compilation is the 1st replica of Kharkevich's wartime paintings in one paintings. The e-book opens with a brief memoir Kharkevich wrote in Nineteen Seventies describing his warfare years.
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Additional info for A Weapon Of Couterpropaganda Oruzhie Kontrpropagandy
I had no idea what she was on about, I just wanted soap because I didn’t want to be smelly. I didn’t understand how I could be called dirty for wanting to clean myself with soap. Mammy used the word ‘dirty’ a lot. She also called me a ‘filthy whore’, and often told me that my private parts were ‘filthy’ parts of my body. ’ Of all us kids, everybody said I looked the most like Mammy. ’ Later on, I would wonder if, for some strange reason, that was why she hated me so much. Did I look too much like her, despite my blond hair?
Mammy had another baby by now, my little sister, Mary. I was no longer the baby of the family, and I was starting school. I felt incredibly grown up. I was thrilled to be joining my three big sisters, and delighted my big brother would be in the very same class as me. Best of all, I didn’t have to stay stuck in the house any more. I hated it. Even having a new baby sister hadn’t made it any more of a home. I loved babies, and Mary was adorable, but she cried a lot and Mammy seemed more tired than ever, because she even slept when Mary was screaming.
I watched her smile at other children all the time, asking politely after their parents. ‘I saw your daddy on television last night,’ I’d hear her say to one of the rich kids. ‘What wonderful work he’s doing! Please send him my regards. Has your mother got a new car? ’ But she seemed only ever to scowl at me, and before long she was giving out steam to me all the time. ‘You stupid child! What are you wearing? You’ll catch pneumonia! ’ she barked one day. I didn’t have a coat, it was lashing down with rain, and Mammy had ordered me to wear a pair of old sandals with no socks instead of my Wellington boots.
A Weapon Of Couterpropaganda Oruzhie Kontrpropagandy by Ivan Kharkevich