Make do and mend:
temporary typographies of Moscow

Mark Wilkinson

Moscow is a contradictory city; every aspect of this enigmatic capital is not what it seems. The city and its inhabitants are a complex mixture of facades each needing to be understood. There are no clear-cut answers, the people, the buildings and the atmosphere are all tantalisingly undecipherable, outwardly simple but inwardly complex. Understanding Moscow is reminiscent of solving a complex algebraic equation. There is an immense feeling of satisfaction when you feel you have reached a solution, however, the answer is often wrong but the process by which you reached your solution is sound!

There are parallels with London in the Seventies: uncertainty, fear, gloom, tension, bombs on the Metro, racial attacks in the suburbs, football violence, inadequate transportation, poor government services, bureaucracy and a disrespect for and lack of pride in the environment. For six months of the year this is a black and white city starved of light and colour but, as with the people this is Moscow?s alter ego: just below the service you will find the light.

Russians are sparing with their affections, it is rare to see a Muscovite laughing or smiling on the Metro or in the street. This expression of warmth is saved for appropriate moments, this makes any show of affection totally genuine and a very special event but creates a cold and unfriendly environment for the visitor. However, Moscow is attempting to embrace a western free market economy and is busily building an environment to compare favourably with the smartest capital cities in the world. Artificial greetings from shop assistants or transport workers may be insincere in the US or UK but they do help increase the sense of wellbeing of the visitor. Perhaps insincerity is a skill that could be developed in Moscow to improve the general ambience of the city but the very low salaries paid to workers in the service industries are unlikely to encourage a change of behaviour in the short term.

In its haste to evoke change, Moscow appears to be in a continuous transitionary state where every new advertising hoarding, window display or street graphic has a look of impermanence. The only things with any permanence about them are: the array of imposing state buildings, the grandiose metro stations and the ubiquitous and lavishly ornamented churches. Moscow is not a welcoming city and the transitory nature of its graphics emphasizes the insecurity of many Muscovites and the instability of the Russian economy and Russian society. There are examples of ?good? typography in Moscow designed to convey longevity but like its target audience it is in a tiny minority. These are normally the typographies associated with international corporations that are compelled by the brand to communicate in the approved corporate style.

Most people are too poor to demand genuine choice and are too busy to worry about the ?tone of voice? of signage, so most visual communication around the city conveys simple blatant messages. This is a society in which the vast majority has experienced serious economic hardship on a scale that most Europeans under the age of 50 have no comprehension of. There is a palpable consciousness that tomorrow you may lose your savings, your job and even your home. Images of queuing for food are still fresh in most people?s minds. It is important to note that ninety five percent of Moscow?s wealth is owned by less than five percent of its population. Signs, however, are very important in this culture. Russians enjoy telling each other what to do despite the fact that they are mostly ignored. This is a heterogeneous society that appears to outwardly conform but surreptitiously circumvent most directives especially the perplexing state regulations. This helps explain why there are so many examples of these typographies throughout Moscow despite legal constraints about the displaying of signs and their content. Hand-made signs are cheap and convenient and the most effective way of getting your message out quickly to your fellow Muscovites.

 

1 Russians enjoy telling each other what to do despite the fact that they are mostly ignored

This licentious attitude toward instruction does not correspond to the West?s conventional stereotypical image of Soviet society; however the Russian authorities? obsession with Red Tape certainly does. A typical standpoint seems to be if there is more than one sign use it! Instructions must be explicit. Maybe the way to understanding the people of Moscow more clearly is to understand the way they communicate visually. Do the omnipresent handmade intuitive signs found throughout the city express an insight into the true character of the Muscovite?

Muscovites are adept at suppressing their true character but instinctively allow us a glimpse of their true personalities and emotions when producing handmade signs. If ever the typography of a city reflected its personality then Moscow is the paradigm. It appears that every free wall space, waste bin, lamppost, gate, fence and tree provides an opportunity to convey information or to instruct. Does the manner in which these signs are written tell us anything about the person who wrote them? Does the process by which the signs were constructed give any clues to the creator?s inherent mentality?

I can remember as a child my father still adhered to the wartime dictum of ?Make do and mend?. His ?box of spare parts? was constantly employed to cope with any eventuality and through ingenious manipulation his various spare parts were used, with some adaptation, to resolve the most challenging situations. These repairs were only meant to be temporary solutions but often remained in situ for many years, well beyond their intended life span. Many of the temporary typographies of Moscow seem to typify this doctrine. The reasons for this mentality often extend beyond the need to save money. It is not only the simplest solution that wins out but also an irresistible urge to ?make do and mend?.

The typographies that I am focussing on in my presentation are not those produced by professional sign makers or billboard artists but those produced by the everyday person in the street. First impressions suggest that much of Moscow?s temporary typography is simply gratuitous graffiti similar to other Western cities but this is a false assumption. The majority of what appears to be inconsiderate graffiti is in fact prudent and sometimes important information, some of which is official signage commanding genuine authority.

Do not be misled by the amateurish way in which these typographies have been produced, because to ignore them on the basis of their appearance could be a costly mistake. As Westerners, we expect signs of authority to be high quality productions so it is disconcerting to obey such inappropriate ?tone of voice? commands that lack aesthetic authority. Their diffident appearance makes them seriously misconstrued but this typography demands that you obey and requires respect even if it is not deserved. The diminutive unobtrusive hand written notice, warning residents in my apartment block that there would be no hot water for a month is a typical example.

2 The indiscernible stencilled sign warning pedestrians that the de-icing of rooftops was about to begin.

Another case in point was the indiscernible stencilled sign warning pedestrians that the de-icing of rooftops was about to begin on my road, a regular occurrence on the streets of Moscow during the winter months. The subliminal interpretation of these typographies is that they are not important and they are virtually invisible. They have been produced with some reluctance, an obligation rather than a genuine desire to prepare or safeguard you. The prospect of a month with no hot water or several tons of ice descending on you at great speed should necessitate more authoritative signage.

3 These typographies appear like exotic mosses growing on the slopes of a dormant volcano.

In complete contrast to the power and permanence of the state architecture these ?make do and mend? typographies are weak and feeble adornments. Often placed in positions of prominence once reserved for symbols of genuine authority, their shabby appearance and limited shelf life devalue the influence that these buildings once commanded. The contrast helps accentuate the diminished power of the state. There is something disconcerting about this dichotomy, the typography masks these sleeping giants its feeble appearance only helps to enhance the quiescent emblematic power of these buildings like exotic mosses growing on the slopes of a dormant volcano.

These temporary typographies of Moscow have in addition an immediacy about them. The majority are produced intuitively to communicate important information with steadfastness. This may be the consequence of a historical background of political propaganda that needed to be produced with a degree of urgency and magnitude. This is a society used to communicating in a seditious and guarded manner, necessitating the prerequisite to get the message out to the people with immediacy and with the minimum of effort, cost and without attracting attention to its creator.

The intention of the Constructivists of Moscow was to connect their art with the socio-political aims of the Bolshevik vision by producing decisive, clean-cut no-nonsense artworks with maximum effect and with the minimum amount of decoration. This typified the poster art and advertising of the early years of communism and this same approach to billboard advertising can be seen throughout Moscow today. The intention is still to dispense with ornament and to concentrate on the message. There are numerous contemporary examples of this working methodology perpetuated by the state run art institutions. There are also a few rather elusive early examples to be found around the city, the best of which can be seen in Arbatskaya. It was produced in the 1920s by Alexander Rodchenko and Alexi Mayakovsky.

4, 5 Hand painted signage produced in the 1920s by Alexander Rodchenko and Alexi Mayakovsky.

These examples of hand-made signage are some of the few examples to have been restored. They typify the Muscovite mentality for adorning any freestanding object with text or imagery. Today these beautifully hand-made pieces of graphic art have been replaced by enormous digital banner prints which now adorn the sides of the majority of apartment buildings and office blocks.

6 An example of the array of digital banner prints which now adorn the sides of the majority of apartment buildings and office blocks.

The Mayakovsky museum in Lubyanka contains a comprehensive collection of examples: handmade graphics produced during the early decades of the twentieth century using a range of stencilling, cut out, wood block, relief and hand rendered processes.

For me the intended message of the sign is less important than its semiotic interpretation. Each sign possesses a unique personality plus an enticing insight into its origin and existence. It is fascinating trying to establish the circumstances under which these signs were produced and their subsequent history. Many are simply the result of multiple lettering onto neglected facades which produce exquisite layered aesthetic compositions. A common practice in Moscow is to cover superfluous signs with blocks of colour that only loosely match the existing paintwork. This was another characteristic of my father who throughout his life amassed an extensive collection of half empty paint cans after every DIY project. They, too, never seemed to match any existing paintwork around our house, indicative of his ?make do and mend? mentality.

7 A common practice in Moscow is to cover superfluous signs with blocks of colour.

The climate is undoubtedly a contributory factor in this transitionary state and the resulting miscellany of ephemeral signage. For seven or eight months of the year Moscow is a cold grey damp landscape. During the long cold winter the ice and snow takes its toll on buildings, roads and shop-fronts. The city is in a continual state of repair. As the snow melts during late April revealing months of street litter there is a period of spring cleaning on a monumental scale which includes the restoration of the numerous hand-made typographies.

8 A number of state owned objects around the city have their own identification tags applied in various ways

There is another category of temporary typographies that accentuates another characteristic of the Russian mentality: accountability. It would appear that a great number of state owned objects around the city have their own identification tags applied in various ways. They are manufactured in a practical manner with little regard for the aesthetic and are purely functional adornments. The result of this tagging is often ugly. Its application is rarely discreet and generally displayed in prominent positions. This has the appearance of mindless graffiti. This tagging has a dual purpose; some is instructional (such as the labelling of parts for construction purposes) but some is for accountability, probably to prevent the stealing of items.

The contrast between the highly finished precision of the ever-present digital typography throughout the city and my hand-made examples gives the latter a freedom and freshness which, as a designer I find thought-provoking. As a result some of the most interesting practitioners of typography in Moscow are those with no formal training: the general public, unaware of ?how it should be done?. This intuitive response to visual communication is both refreshing and inspirational. This experience has encouraged me to reflect on my own practice and the way I teach graphic communication.