Posts - Page 89 of 96

Different trains of thought

Another online archive of lovely posters for your education and enlightenment today. But, nothing is straightforward in this world, so this is another archive with its own quirks and priorities. Here, though, they’re more understandable, because this archive isn’t meant for the likes of you and me. It’s the National Railway Museum poster collection, and it’s designed for railway buffs.

Whitley Bay, Amstutz, 1954

Wondering what I am talking about? Try here. This is the main search page for the NRM’s poster collection, your gateway to more than ten thousand railway posters. Now I might want to search these by date, or by the subject of the poster, or even by the designer. Not a chance. I can filter them by category (of which there is only one, All, which is philosophically quite interesting), or I can sort them by railway company. So should I ever want to see every poster for the Axminster and Lyme Regis Light Railway, I am fine. Should, however, my life not be organised in terms of various railway operators I am rather up the Swannee.

Morecambe, Lance Cattermole, 1960

It’s such a radically different perpective on the world that it makes me laugh rather than drives me to fury. Although this is mainly because there are a couple of get-arounds by which I can find what I am looking for. The first is the search box in the top right corner. Although this searches the entire site, not just the poster collection, “Morecambe poster” or “Amstutz poster” generally gets you a full list of results, even if in text form, usually including several repetitions, and with only about half a chance of an image when you click on the individual object.

Lincolnshire, Tom Purvis, no date

But not even this isn’t as infuriating as it might be. Because, elsewhere, there is a much better search engine. The National Museum of Science and Industry runs not only the NRM, but also the Science Museum and the National Media Museum. And it too has a search engine – although, wierdly, I can’t find any way of accessing it from their home page. Perhaps it’s a secret and I’m not meant to be using it. In which case, apologies.

From this, you get a much neater page of search results, with thumbnail images where they exist. Plus, as an added bonus, your search can also turn up some additional Science Museum holdings, like this cheerful little Eckerlsey Lombers for the Ministry of Food.

What’s odd about these two search pages though, is that they don’t turn up the same results. (This next bit may end up being a bit geeky, so if you’re not interested, skip on a bit). The NRM search will miss out lots of items. Say you run a search like “studio seven” (I would recommend it, incidentally, as you can see from the results below). This 1958 Studio Seven poster appears when you search on the NMSI.

But doesn’t when you search the NRM – only if you search for “Dover Studio Seven”. And even then, there isn’t an illustration or a date. The same happens with this poster.

From which we could perhaps conclude that the NMSI search engine is a superior thing and the NRM one a bit random. Which is probably true. But what is more than passing strange is that even when each search engine comes up with the same thing, the pictures are different. The NMSI has proper scans.

Studio Seven, Minehead 1962

Whereas the NRM have flattened the poster with a bit of perspex, taken a picture and said, will this do? (Much like we do, I admit, but then we’re not a national institution in charge of a major archive.)

Now I’m not just doing this to poke fun at the NRM, there is a point. The pictures show that these two search pages aren’t just different ways into the same database, they’re totally separate entities. Which means that all of this information, on ten thousand posters and lord alone knows how many engines, sprockets and pictures of stations, has been catalogued twice. At best it’s a waste of time, at worst it must have cost an awful lot of unnecessary money. Or maybe there is a good reason for this, and I have missed it, in which case I’d like to know.

Studio Seven, Rhyl, 1955

So, nerdy bit over, there is still a rather wonderful and under-used collection to be found at the NRM, whichever search engine you view it through. And it’s another example of how the internet can do things for museums that a building can’t. If you go to the NRM hoping to see posters (as Mr Crownfolio and I, sad cases that we are, did on our honeymoon) you will be disappointed, as only a tiny proportion of what they hold will be on show. Surf the archives though, and you can look at whatever you like. If you can find it.

Studio Seven, By Train to London, 1960

This good design, it’s just not British

other

I haven’t finished with the Artist Partners AP2 brochure/catalogue/thingy, not yet. There’s a large chunk of its content that I’ve been ignoring so far, and that’s the sheer number of foreign designers who are represented in the book. Designers like Savignac, for example.

Or Andre Francois.

Now in itself, that’s perhaps not so surprising – it’s good for Artist Partners and good for the designers. But it leads to a couple of interesting thoughts. The first is that these renowned designers are clearly working for UK agencies and firms as well as in their own country, which I didn’t know. These two images above aren’t the only examples, the book contains plenty more in black and white.

Here’s Francois working for Mazda, Gillette and Taylor Walkers Ale.

Then Jean Colin for WH Smith and Nestle, as well as in French.

I haven’t turned up any examples of these designs anywhere else, even though all three artists are highly collectable, which once again shows how much our view of these graphics is based on the very partial sample of what has survived.

On top of this, it is also surprising just how many foreign designers there are in AP2. On top of those who mainly lived and worked abroad, (and the AP book also includes Herbert Leupin, Donald Brun and Saul Bass), several more of those represented are emigres who came over as a result of the war – designers like Hans Unger and George Him.

There’s also Heinz Kurth, who gets a double-page spread in the book and may well belong in this category too.

He also did the really excellent photography illustration that I’ve illustrated before (currently pinging its way round the web thanks to Martin Klasch)

But I can’t seem to find out anything more about his story and whether he actually worked in Britain or not – I’m guessing he did from the AP images, which are pretty much all British. He did also do this.

which does rather suggest he was based in the UK, and which you could buy if you wanted for just £100, a bit of a bargain if you ask me.

Which leads me to a further, bigger conclusion, about just how much modernism really was a foreign import in Britain. But that’s another thought for another post, not least because there are a few books I need to read before I stick my opinions on the line. If you’ve got anything to say on this, please do let me know.

Rather forgeta-bull

other

A curiosity today. This.

It’s a 1955 childrens book by Jan Lewitt, one half of the brilliant Lewitt-Him graphic design partnership.

It’s not, I have to say, a great book, but makes it in here mostly because it is clearly a spin-off from one of my favourite posters, a Lewitt-Him design from 1943.

I’m rather tickled by the fact that Jan Lewitt liked the idea so much that ten years later he decided to give the image an entire backstory, rather like an author being forced to write a sequel because he’s created characters who just won’t leave him alone.

It’s just a shame that the plot (which involves far away islands, mandolin trees and a bull called Yorick) isn’t a bit more gripping.

Although the illustrations are rather wonderful, in a grown-up kind of way.

Should you fancy your own copy, it’s pretty widely available on the second hand book web, at prices ranging from £10 – £100. You choose.

Two other incidental facts while I am here. Lewitt-Him also did a couple of other children’s books as a partnership. One is The Little Red Train, written by Diana Ross (not that one, I don’t think)

which you can find here (via Martin Klasch). Both the story and illustrations are better if you ask me,

to the extent that I might consider reading it to a real life small child.

There’s also Locomotive, The Turnip and The Birds’ Broadcast, which I’ve never seen but a very nice man has posted the complete set of images on Flickr, so you can take a view for yourself. My view is that it looks like the most delightful of the lot. It is, however, as rare as hen’s teeth and proportionately expensive, so I may never get to find out.

And finally, the Vegetabull poster wasn’t the only poster that Lewitt-Him did in this style. I wanted to post one of the others simply because I never see it anywhere else. So here it is.

Turning over several new leaves

designers

I’ve always liked James Fitton. And I can say that with some confidence, as I had this postcard on my wall at university (quite some time ago now). It’s one of his designs for the Ministry of Food, from just after the end of the war.

I’ve still got the postcard; more pleasingly, we also now own one of the original posters too. It may have taken me twenty years, but I’m still quite chuffed about that.

Even a cursory look at his poster designs reveals a man who had a whole range of styles at his command. This Ministry of Food poster is from the same period, but can hardly be recognised as coming from the same hand (slightly pallid image from the Design Council Slide Collection).

This milk poster is also from that era (and, trivia fans, is the one that you can see in the front of these images from Britain Can Make It).

What that last poster does particularly show is Fitton’s use of really luminous colour (which must have been particularly hard to achieve with wartime/utility paper and printing materials). His 1941 posters for London Transport (also here) have the same almost supernatural, and very appropriate, glow,

By 1948, they’re almost dazzling. And of course in an entirely different style.

All of the above would, you’d think, would be more than enough to make him a revered and often-mentioned designer. But it turns out that’s not the half of it. The following is just an outline of what he achieved, the full shilling lives can be found here, here and here.

Throughout the 1930s, he was probably best-known as a cartoonist for left-wing periodicals such as the Daily Worker and Left Review. His work was influential and seen as avant-garde at the time (as in the use of real newspaper print in the cartoon below).

After the war, he continued working as a cartoonist and illustrator for magazines such as Lilliput.

Then there was the painting.

(This 1948 Brixton street scene is now in the Museum of London).

And he taught, he served on official bodies, and the Design Council slide collection suggests that he even found time to design some fabric too.

All of this while holding down a day job as the Art Director of Vernons, which he helped make into one of London’s leading advertising agencies. I’m exhausted just reading about it.

It may be that being able to work in so many disciplines is one of the reasons why he’s not so well known today; the collectors and writers about Lilliput don’t know about his posterworks, the cartoon historians have no idea that he’s also in the collection of the Tate Gallery and so on. I think it’s a pity, and also unfair, as his poster designs are not only the equal of those by better known designers, but also have a haunting quality which perhaps carries over from his artworks. In some ways I’d rather live with a Fitton on my wall (if anyone would like to send some, please feel free) than with many other posters. Am I alone in thinking that? Answers in the comments box below if you please. After this last rather lovely London Transport poster from 1937.

It’s Easter, don’t move

auctions

We seem to own a piece of railwayana, how did that happen?

Fortunately, this didn’t end up being as relevant as it might have been this Easter.

But it still has a purpose, as you can also buy its cousin in a few days time in Chertsey. If that makes its estimate of £150-250, there may be another one coming onto the market quite swiftish.

The auctioneers have this down as 1930s, but they’re both published by the Railway Executive Committee, who ran the railways from the start of WW2 in 1939 until nationalisation created British Railways in 1948. And the ‘don’t travel’ message pretty much has to be wartime, I should think.

By way of completeness, here is a third from the National Railway Museum collections.

They’re all by Reginald Mayes, who was staff artist for the London Midland and Scottish Railway before the war and so presumably stayed on to produce a wide range of anti-travel and propaganda posters for the Railway Executive Committee. What’s interesting is that I can’t find any traces of anything he designed for the London Midland, so it looks as if he only started signing things after 1939. If anyone can tell me any more, please do.

In other auction news, Dreweatts in Bristol are selling a second collection of works by Percy Drake Brookshaw, once again being sold by the family of the artist (I blogged about the first sale in February). Some are the same posters,

and quite a few are in the same style as those in the last sale (i.e. with the colour turned up to 11).

But there are also a couple of interesting ones. This 1958 London Transport poster is rather lovely, and you’d get two copies for an estimated price of £50-70, which seems entirely reasonable to me.

Meanwhile the big estimate of £300-400 is on this Summer Shell poster.

The Shell Poster Book tells me that it’s from 1933 (there, incidentally, is an archive that would really benefit the world were it online) so it may well go for more. Happy shopping.

Happy Easter

other