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Читать онлайн «Kinfolk». Kinfolk читать журнал онлайн
Вдохновляющие онлайн-журналы. Часть 1 - Urban paradox
Ну, это, конечно, я все утрирую, да и перечислять красивые издания могу бесконечно, но вариант заменить печатные издания интернет-вариантами очень даже хорош. Поэтому я лучше расскажу и покажу вам качественные онлайн-журналы, ну, или те издания, которые есть в свободном доступе в сети. В первой части хочу поделиться исключительно русскоязычными качественными изданиями, которых, к сожалению, мало, но они все-таки есть. Представляю вам целую дюжину изданий!
Стиль жизни
Veter
О чем: стиль жизни (все-все-все, начиная от моды и популярных брендов и заканчивая детьми и кулинарией).Как часто: раз в месяц.
Это, пожалуй, самый первый журнал, о котором хочется рассказать. В нем совершенно потрясающие фотографии, которыми можно любоваться бесконечно, к съемке редакция подходит очень ответственно, интересные тексты, которые приятно прочитать, клевые идеи, которыми можно вдохновляться, необычные люди, о которых хотелось бы узнать и еще много чего ооочень крутого. Вообще журнал позиционирует себя как первое российское издание о стиле жизни, и, к слову сказать, у них получается держать заданную планку качества и тематики.К тому же это уже давно не просто журнал, это огромный проект, включающий в себя электронный и теперь уже бумажный журнал (собрание лучших материалов за сезон) и целую серию самых разных вдохновительных и полезных воркшопов (по фуд-фотографии, о флористики, об историях успехах, прикладные мастер-классы и многое другое), а так же работу над ящиком местной еды, продвижение маленьких, но оригинальных брендов и т.д.Ну и, конечно, нужно упомянуть и о Вере Почуевой - главном редакторе журнала Veter и основателе Veter School. Не знаю, кого как, а меня этот человек очень вдохновляет, особенно после того, как мне выпала возможность неомного пообщаться в сети.
Seasons
О чем: стиль жизни (интересные люди, интересные события).Как часто: раз в месяц (в интернете 6 выпусков, не обновляется).
Этот проект исключительно печатный, но несколько выпусков можно с легкостью найти в интернете, поэтому я делюсь и им. Тем более, что я лично листала бумажные выпуски и была очень впечатлена ими, да и Seasons является партнером журнала Veter, о чем просто необходимо сказать.Seasons тоже журнал о стиле жизни, правда, в нем не делается столь ощутимый акцент на маленькие бренды, информация здесь более обобщена, но не менее интересна.К тому же Seasons один из немногих журналов (тем более русскоязычных) после Kinfolk, которые развернули масштабную внежурнальную деятельность. Этот журнал может похвастаться многочисленными длительными курсами и короткими мастер-классами, разными классами по интересам, масштабным фестивалем и еще одним изданием, о котором я скажу дальше.
Friends
О чем: стиль жизни (встречи и знакомства, красивые места и уют в доме).Как часто: планируется раз в сезон.
Потрясающе уютный и достаточно стильный журнал, ооочень похожий на Veter (особенно по качеству), но все же уникальный. Он, точно так же, посвящен стилю жизни во всех его проявлениях. Красиво сделан, красиво сверстан, красиво оформлен. Приятные тексты (хотя их и оочень мало), хорошие фотографии.Правда, пока вышел только один номер, второй обещан осенью, но, пока его еще не было - остается только ждать.Кстати, журнал украинский, но русскоязычный. К тому же на его страницах совершенно неожиданно встречаются проекты, известные, например, мне и в России: ящик местной еды, встречи Kinfolk и т.д.Очень жаль, что журнал совсем не распиарен, потому что он определенно заслуживает внимания. Ну и эта обложка меня просто покорила. Я на нее готова любоваться вечность!
Melon
О чем: "девчачьи" мелочи (секреты, планы, списки, тренды и т.д.).Как часто: раз в сезон.
Очень простенький по сравнению с остальными журнал, позиционирующий себя так же - журнал о стиле жизни. Больше он, конечно, "девчачий", но все равно очень приятный. Часто в нем можно встретить интересные съемки и приятные тексты. Лично меня издание покорило статейкой о Ростове с рассказом о галерее "16-я линия" и упоминянием потрясающей кофейны "Setter's". Так что как минимум за вкус в выборе мест у авторов журнала я ручаюсь :-)
Sweet Bit
О чем: красивые и полезные жизненные мелочи (рецепты, мастер-классы, вдохновительные истории).Как часто: заброшен, в сети 2 выпуска.
Очень красивый и продуманный журнал, в котором строго выдерживается тема каждого номера (белый и огненный выпуск). Качественные фотографии, очень интересные материалы и приятные тексты. Верстка, правда, не дотягивает до уровня первых указанных журналов, но достаточно неплоха и гармонична.Много внимания уделяется теме путешествий и рукоделия, а так же интересным местам. Следить за этим журналом, конечно, не получится (второй и последний выпуск вышел в 2012 году), но почитать имеющийся материал стоит.
Натур продукт
О чем: экология и эко-жизнь.Как часто: несколько раз в год.
Ну, об этом журнале можно сказать много. Во-первых, он один из немногих русскоязычных изданий, посвященных экологии. Во-вторых, он, пожалуй, единственный (если я больше никого не забыла) красивый и качественный русскоязычный журнал, посвященный экологии. В-третьих, эта потрясающая обложка хоть и украшала только один номер, все равно надолго осталась в моей памяти. Она же потрясающая :-)А вообще в журнале можно прочитать обо все. Обо всем экологическом: путешествиях, красоте, кулинарии, интересных акциях и прочем-прочем-прочем. Особый плюс авторам за красочные фотографии и интересные тексты, которые доказывают, что экология не так скучна, как может показаться.К тому же авторы находят разные интересные проекты и акции, места, которые нужно посетить, услуги, которыми стоит воспользоваться, и деляться всем этим богатством со своими читателями.
Таинственные
Opium
О чем: о том, что окружает, но в другом свете.Как часто: есть только 2 выпуска.
Загадочный журнал обо всем и о многом - людях, путешествиях, литературе, искусстве. В какой-то мере об этом, в какой-то мере о чем-то, что очень сложно уловить, ибо на каждую тему взгляд совершенно не типичный, очень оригинальный, красочный и удивляющий.Интересная верстка, так же нетипичная для журналов, но смотрящаяся красиво.Совершенно потрясающие кадры и приятные тексты, куда более интересные и захватывающие чем в большинстве лайф-стайл журналов даже перечисленных тут. Для вдохновение на творчество - то, что нужно!
VisionО чем: истории о картинках или, наоборот, сфотографированные истории.Как часто: раз в сезон (больше не выпускается, в сети 9 номеров).Потрясающая идея, заключающаяся в связи серий фотографий с атмосферными текстами. Получаются совершенно особенные истории, подкрепленными красивыми, атмосферными картинками. Одна из главных особенностей журнала - наличие сразу двух языком. Для меня это, например, очень удобно, потому что мне полюбилось читать время от времени некоторые истории на английском и сразу же проверять свои знания )
Ну и, в этом журнальном "разделе", я не могу не упомянуть Мэй, Дарью Крупкину. Она, как и другие главные редакторы, которых я выделила в этом посте, вечно полна интересных идей, всегда организует классные проекты (к коим относятся и два указанных журнала, где она выступала главным редактором).
О еде
Russien Foodie
О чем: о еде и всех ее составляющих (фотосъемки, кулинары, рецепты, оформление).Как часто: планируется раз в месяц.
Пожалуй, самый красивый российский журнал о еде. Очень интересный, структурированный, включает в себя не только рецепты, как это обычно бывает в кулинарных изданиях. Пока что Russien Foodie только-только начинает свой путь, вышел лишь первый номер, но он уже успел покорить сердца многих.Отдельно хочу отметить его главного редактора, Анастасию Зурабову - талантливого, позитивного, креативного человека, всей душой любящего кулинарию и интересные проекты.Ну и верстка. Я просто не могу не сказать о верстке, потому что это тот пункт, который может заставить меня просмотреть даже неинтересный журнал с некрасивыми для меня фотографии. Тут же верстка просто изумительная, как и все оформление!Кстати, отдельный плюс Russien Foodie еще и в том, что это не только журнал, но и действующий оригинальный проект, который тоже развивается. Например, в его рамках проводился потрясающий воркшоп по фуд-фотографии с мастерами этого дела.
Корона
О чем: о еде и обо всем, что с ней связано (интересные бренды, люди, рецепты).Как часто: раз в месяц.
Еще один журнал про еду и о еде, на этот раз белорусский. Он заметно уступает предыдущему изданию, но на фоне остальных выделяется очень ярко. На мой вкус в нем слишком много нетематической рекламы (против тематической, тем более красивой, ничего не имею против) и слишком много зачастую пестрящей на одной страницы информации. Это уже, конечно, претензия к макету страниц и верстке. Но зато нужно отметить совершенно крутые обложки и потрясающие фотографии внутри.К тому же встречается много оригинальных и несложных рецептов, которые хочется опробовать.
Для детей и про детей
Летучка
Оооочень милый и красочный журнал для детей. Мне напомнил "Мурзилку", который я так любила много-много лет назад. Тут куча детских рисунков, интересных записей, забавных картинок, множество идей для развлечения и всякого другого. Он определенно стоит внимания!
InstaMam
Достаточно оригинальная идея сделать журнал на основе пользователей Инстаграма, объединив их одной темой. В данном случае в один журнал собраны мамы - талантливые, красивые, вдохновляющие и пользующиеся знаменитым приложенем. И только русскоязычные мамы со всех уголков наше й планеты.Журнал стоит полистать хотя бы из-за красочных оригинальных фотографий, они определенно того стоят. Хотя верстка, к сожалению, не порадовала.
А какие журналы читаете вы? Какие предпочитаете - бумажные или электронные? Делитесь интересными изданиями ))lince-anisha.livejournal.com
Kinfolk читать онлайн, Бак Перл Сайденстрикер
1
THE THEATER IN CHINATOWN was crowded to the doors. Every night actors brought from Canton played and sang the old Chinese operas. If Billy Pan, the manager, announced a deficit at the end of the lunar year, businessmen contributed money to cover it. The theater was a bulwark of home for them. Their children went to American schools, spoke the American language, acted like American children. The fathers and mothers were not highly educated people and they could not express to the children what China was, except that it was their own country, which must not be forgotten. But in the theater the children could see for themselves what China was. Here history was played again and ancient heroes came to life before their eyes. It was the only place in Chinatown which could compete with the movies. Parents brought their children early and stayed late. They talked with friends and neighbors, exchanged sweetmeats and gossip, and sat spellbound and dreaming when the curtain went up to show the figures who were contemporary with their ancestors.
The play tonight was Mu Lan, the heroine of a thousand years ago, who took her father’s place when he fell in battle and so saved her nation from invaders. This was a favorite play, and although it was in the repertory of every company, the citizens of Chinatown never tired of it. It was nearly midnight and they waited with excitement for the curtain to rise on the fifth act. At this moment Billy Pan came to the door and looked over the crowd. He was a stout middle-aged man, dressed in a gray cloth suit, and he was as usual smoking a cigar. His round red face was cheerful and his small eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he glanced about the house. Good business—Mu Lan always brought him good business. His shrewd eyes examined the crowd more closely, searching for possible celebrities. It pleased the crowd if he could produce a celebrity after the show. He knew everybody in Chinatown and his eyes slid rapidly from one face to another.
In the tenth row in the middle seat his eyes halted. Dr. Liang Wen Hua! He had seen Dr. Liang only once and then from a platform in uptown New York, when during the war delegates from Chinatown had been invited to come to a celebration of Double Ten. Dr. Liang had made the chief address, and all the delegates had taken pride in the tall handsome figure who was also Chinese. But Dr. Liang had never accepted an invitation to Chinatown. He made the excuse that he could not speak Cantonese, since his native region in China was in the north, near Peking. Yet here he was tonight sitting among the crowd!
The curtain rose and through the darkness Billy Pan edged his way up the narrow aisle. At the tenth row he paused, whispered and waited. The man in the seat next to Dr. Liang came out obediently, and Billy Pan pushed into his place.
“Dr. Liang?” he whispered respectfully.
Dr. Liang turned his head.
“Excuse me, this is Billy Pan, proprietor of theater,” Billy Pan whispered in English. “I saw you. Great honor, I am sure! Our theater is very poor. I am sorry you did not tell me you are coming and I would have better show for you, anyway best seat.”
Dr. Liang inclined his head. “I am very comfortable, thank you,” he said in his low rich voice. “And this is the play I wished to see.”
“You not come before, I think?”
“As a professor, I am kept busy.”
“You like this play?” Billy Pan persisted.
“I am planning a summer course on the Chinese drama,” Dr. Liang replied. “I came to see whether my students might understand this play, as presented by Chinese actors.”
“It is too poor,” Billy Pan exclaimed.
Dr. Liang smiled. “I suppose American students will not be critical.”
Behind them and beside them people were craning their heads. Everybody knew Billy Pan and knew that he would not trouble himself about any ordinary person. Someone recognized Dr. Liang and the name ran along the crowded benches.
“Please,” Billy Pan begged. “I ask a great favor of you.”
Dr. Liang smiled. “Yes?”
“After the play, will you speak a few words to us from the stage?”
Dr. Liang hesitated.
“Please! It will honor us.”
Dr. Liang was gracious. “Very well — but you will have to translate for me. My Chinese is not Cantonese, you know.”
“Honored!” Billy Pan exclaimed with fervor.
He rose, sweating and excited, and pushed his way out again and the man whom he had displaced crept back. Now that this man knew by whom he was sitting he felt awkward and humble and he sat as far as possible from the great man.
Dr. Liang did not notice him. His mind was on the gaudy scene upon the stage. In his secret heart he did not enjoy the stylized traditional performance. He had been too long in New York, too often he had gone to Broadway and Radio City. There was something childish about the strutting declaiming actors and the brightly ancient costumes. This sort of thing might be all very well for a country audience before a temple, but certainly it did not suit a modern people. Would he be ashamed if he brought his classes here, or might he explain the drama in terms of the picturesque? He could always tell them that in Shanghai as well as in Peking there was a drama as modern as in New York.
Then it occurred to him that not only the play was difficult. The audience was even more so. Children pattered back and forth and women talked whenever the action dulled for a moment on the stage. Men got up and went out and came back, pausing to greet their friends on the way. It was most unfortunate, he thought, his handsome lips set and his head high, that Chinese like himself were not the sole representatives of his country. It was a great pity that Chinatown had ever been allowed.
The clamor of drums and flutes and violins burst forth in concerted cacophony and the crowd was suddenly silent. The star was coming on. A curtain was drawn back and a brilliant figure dashed upon the stage. It was Mu Lan herself, in the ancient garb of a warrior, and shouts burst from the people. She stalked up and down the stage brandishing the little whip which meant she was on horseback, singing in a high falsetto as she went. From the timbre of the voice Dr. Liang knew that Mu Lan was being played by a young man. The audience, knowing it also, were yet naïvely ready to imagine that she was a beautiful strong young woman.
“I might explain the motif by saying that Mu Lan is the Chinese version of Joan of Arc,” Dr. Liang thought.
He was pleased with the idea and his mind played about it. Before he knew it the curtain went down, the hard neon lights flashed on, and Billy Pan stood on the stage waving his arms for attention. Everyone obeyed. People who had been getting up sat down again, and babies began to wail and were hushed. A flood of rapid explosive Cantonese burst from Billy Pan, none of which Dr. Liang could understand. When everyone turned to stare at him, however, he knew that he was being introduced and he rose. The people in the row with him stepped into the aisle to allow him to pass, and he thanked them gravely and walked with dignity up the aisle to the stage and mounted four rickety steps. Billy Pan was waiting for him with a look of devotion, and Dr. Liang smiled slightly. He stood with his hands clasped and he bowed to the audience. Then he began to speak, waiting at the end of each long sentence for Billy Pan to translate.
It was one of his less important speeches, pleasant, courteous, mildly humorous, but the audience was easy to please and laughed heartily and quickly. He was warmed by their pride in him and he took the opportunity to remark that it was the duty of every Chinese to represent his country in the most favorable light to Americans who were, after all, only foreigners. As for himself, he said, he was careful always to behave as though he were, in his own small way, of course, an ambassador. He closed with a reference to Confucius, and was astonished that this did not seem to please the people. They were ignorant, he supposed — very provincial, certainly. He saw them whole, a mass of rather grimy people, small tradesmen and their wives and children, alien and yet somehow building a small commonplace version of China here. Very unfortunate!
He bowed again, smiled, and walked down the steps. Billy Pan followed, and pushing aside the people, he led Dr. Liang out to the street and bawled to a passing taxicab, which swerved and stopped. He opened the door and bo ...
knigogid.ru
Читать онлайн "Kinfolk" автора Бак Перл С. - RuLit
THE THEATER IN CHINATOWN was crowded to the doors. Every night actors brought from Canton played and sang the old Chinese operas. If Billy Pan, the manager, announced a deficit at the end of the lunar year, businessmen contributed money to cover it. The theater was a bulwark of home for them. Their children went to American schools, spoke the American language, acted like American children. The fathers and mothers were not highly educated people and they could not express to the children what China was, except that it was their own country, which must not be forgotten. But in the theater the children could see for themselves what China was. Here history was played again and ancient heroes came to life before their eyes. It was the only place in Chinatown which could compete with the movies. Parents brought their children early and stayed late. They talked with friends and neighbors, exchanged sweetmeats and gossip, and sat spellbound and dreaming when the curtain went up to show the figures who were contemporary with their ancestors.
The play tonight was Mu Lan, the heroine of a thousand years ago, who took her father’s place when he fell in battle and so saved her nation from invaders. This was a favorite play, and although it was in the repertory of every company, the citizens of Chinatown never tired of it. It was nearly midnight and they waited with excitement for the curtain to rise on the fifth act. At this moment Billy Pan came to the door and looked over the crowd. He was a stout middle-aged man, dressed in a gray cloth suit, and he was as usual smoking a cigar. His round red face was cheerful and his small eyes twinkled with satisfaction as he glanced about the house. Good business—Mu Lan always brought him good business. His shrewd eyes examined the crowd more closely, searching for possible celebrities. It pleased the crowd if he could produce a celebrity after the show. He knew everybody in Chinatown and his eyes slid rapidly from one face to another.
In the tenth row in the middle seat his eyes halted. Dr. Liang Wen Hua! He had seen Dr. Liang only once and then from a platform in uptown New York, when during the war delegates from Chinatown had been invited to come to a celebration of Double Ten. Dr. Liang had made the chief address, and all the delegates had taken pride in the tall handsome figure who was also Chinese. But Dr. Liang had never accepted an invitation to Chinatown. He made the excuse that he could not speak Cantonese, since his native region in China was in the north, near Peking. Yet here he was tonight sitting among the crowd!
The curtain rose and through the darkness Billy Pan edged his way up the narrow aisle. At the tenth row he paused, whispered and waited. The man in the seat next to Dr. Liang came out obediently, and Billy Pan pushed into his place.
“Dr. Liang?” he whispered respectfully.
Dr. Liang turned his head.
“Excuse me, this is Billy Pan, proprietor of theater,” Billy Pan whispered in English. “I saw you. Great honor, I am sure! Our theater is very poor. I am sorry you did not tell me you are coming and I would have better show for you, anyway best seat.”
Dr. Liang inclined his head. “I am very comfortable, thank you,” he said in his low rich voice. “And this is the play I wished to see.”
“You not come before, I think?”
“As a professor, I am kept busy.”
“You like this play?” Billy Pan persisted.
“I am planning a summer course on the Chinese drama,” Dr. Liang replied. “I came to see whether my students might understand this play, as presented by Chinese actors.”
“It is too poor,” Billy Pan exclaimed.
Dr. Liang smiled. “I suppose American students will not be critical.”
Behind them and beside them people were craning their heads. Everybody knew Billy Pan and knew that he would not trouble himself about any ordinary person. Someone recognized Dr. Liang and the name ran along the crowded benches.
“Please,” Billy Pan begged. “I ask a great favor of you.”
Dr. Liang smiled. “Yes?”
“After the play, will you speak a few words to us from the stage?”
Dr. Liang hesitated.
“Please! It will honor us.”
Dr. Liang was gracious. “Very well — but you will have to translate for me. My Chinese is not Cantonese, you know.”
“Honored!” Billy Pan exclaimed with fervor.
He rose, sweating and excited, and pushed his way out again and the man whom he had displaced crept back. Now that this man knew by whom he was sitting he felt awkward and humble and he sat as far as possible from the great man.
Dr. Liang did not notice him. His mind was on the gaudy scene upon the stage. In his secret heart he did not enjoy the stylized traditional performance. He had been too long in New York, too often he had gone to Broadway and Radio City. There was something childish about the strutting declaiming actors and the brightly ancient costumes. This sort of thing might be all very well for a country audience before a temple, but certainly it did not suit a modern people. Would he be ashamed if he brought his classes here, or might he explain the drama in terms of the picturesque? He could always tell them that in Shanghai as well as in Peking there was a drama as modern as in New York.
Then it occurred to him that not only the play was difficult. The audience was even more so. Children pattered back and forth and women talked whenever the action dulled for a moment on the stage. Men got up and went out and came back, pausing to greet their friends on the way. It was most unfortunate, he thought, his handsome lips set and his head high, that Chinese like himself were not the sole representatives of his country. It was a great pity that Chinatown had ever been allowed.
The clamor of drums and flutes and violins burst forth in concerted cacophony and the crowd was suddenly silent. The star was coming on. A curtain was drawn back and a brilliant figure dashed upon the stage. It was Mu Lan herself, in the ancient garb of a warrior, and shouts burst from the people. She stalked up and down the stage brandishing the little whip which meant she was on horseback, singing in a high falsetto as she went. From the timbre of the voice Dr. Liang knew that Mu Lan was being played by a young man. The audience, knowing it also, were yet naïvely ready to imagine that she was a beautiful strong young woman.
“I might explain the motif by saying that Mu Lan is the Chinese version of Joan of Arc,” Dr. Liang thought.
He was pleased with the idea and his mind played about it. Before he knew it the curtain went down, the hard neon lights flashed on, and Billy Pan stood on the stage waving his arms for attention. Everyone obeyed. People who had been getting up sat down again, and babies began to wail and were hushed. A flood of rapid explosive Cantonese burst from Billy Pan, none of which Dr. Liang could understand. When everyone turned to stare at him, however, he knew that he was being introduced and he rose. The people in the row with him stepped into the aisle to allow him to pass, and he thanked them gravely and walked with dignity up the aisle to the stage and mounted four rickety steps. Billy Pan was waiting for him with a look of devotion, and Dr. Liang smiled slightly. He stood with his hands clasped and he bowed to the audience. Then he began to speak, waiting at the end of each long sentence for Billy Pan to translate.
It was one of his less important speeches, pleasant, courteous, mildly humorous, but the audience was easy to please and laughed heartily and quickly. He was warmed by their pride in him and he took the opportunity to remark that it was the duty of every Chinese to represent his country in the most favorable light to Americans who were, after all, only foreigners. As for himself, he said, he was careful always to behave as though he were, in his own small way, of course, an ambassador. He closed with a reference to Confucius, and was astonished that this did not seem to please the people. They were ignorant, he supposed — very provincial, certainly. He saw them whole, a mass of rather grimy people, small tradesmen and their wives and children, alien and yet somehow building a small commonplace version of China here. Very unfortunate!
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