From Russia with Love

I’m not referring to the James Bond spy film, but lately some treasures from Russia have found their way home with me.

[I don’t even want to get started on the politics of Putin — he’s an absolute horrible person and now among the world’s most hated, and for good reason.]

Since part of my family emigrated from Russia and Ukraine, probably to escape the vicious pogroms, I have an inherent affection for Russian collectibles. (Also ballet and vodka, haha.)

I have a hazy memory of playing with some Russian/Ukranian nesting dolls, or maybe it was simply my overly overactive imagination because I certainly don’t have them now, and I know that I would never have discarded them.

I went to Goodwill and saw this complete five-piece set of Russian nesting dolls for $3.99. I have a feeling that no one knew what they were, that the largest doll opened up, so SCORE for me.

The matryoshka, or nesting doll, is one of the most quintessential representations of traditional Russian peasant life, as a relic of quaint serf culture. Russian children learned to count with these handpainted beauties. Matryoshka dolls are used to illustrate the unity of body, soul, mind, heart, and spirit.

I can add the dolls to the beautiful Kohkloma bowls and spoons that were gifted by a generous neighbor.

In the mid-17th century certain handmade goods being created in the village of Khokhloma. Tableware was carved out of wood and then primed with clay, linseed oil. and tin powder before being hardened in a kiln. The result was then painted with floral patterns in red, black, and gold. One theory as to how the craft first started is that “Old-Believers” hiding out in forests around Khokhloma used these techniques to make it appear that the items were made out of something more substantial than wood and that gold was actually used in their decoration.

I have a Russian lacquer box that my mom gave me when I was in high school. She told me it was very special and I should always save the box it came in, which I did. It’s signed by the artist on the back and numbered, which makes me think it might be valuable. (No, the Angel Kids can’t have THIS box.) I wish I had started to collect them; I’ll put that on my wish list.

Maybe one day I’ll find an authentic Faberge egg at a thrift store and end up on Antiques Roadshow. A girl can dream, right?