Walter E. Spradbery discourses on outlook and originality, and discusses roughs, lettering, slogans and adapting linocut to posters

Political and social developments in days immediately preceding the war, during the war and, less assuredly, in the days following the war, have made it clear that the State and the machine tend to become masters of men instead of servants. Men are conscripted, and grow remote from a sense of personal responsibility and the intimacy of personal human relationships on which the quality of life depends.

The integrity of the spirit responds to principles: the command of other men must be subservient to this. In an age of regimentation the artist, more than any, must escape standardisation. It behoves him to be watchful and active, lest the organisations that set out to better this economic position come to exercise too restrictive a control over him and become not only arbitrators, but arbitrary.

Cliques of men holding positions of selective authority can discourage and prevent good work which they personally do not favour from getting a proper showing. What they do not wish to come into competition or comparison with their own likes they can ignore or disparage. But let us leave this universal problem and get on with the job.

The contemplation of nature has always been a relief to the mind harassed and distressed by the conflicts of man; there is strength in the hills and graciousness in the shade of trees. This consideration is one of the reasons that has led me to concentrate on producing travel posters. I not only liked the subject matter, but I thought it a good thing to encourage town dwellers to spend their leisure as close to nature as they could.

I think the early posters I produced for ‘General’, ‘Underground’ and ‘Southern’ helped to make hiking popular and contributed something to the health and spirits of youth. They were instrumental in creating a fit, cheery type of man and woman that is today fairly common; scouting and the camp life of the wars were also instrumental in this. The sports coat, shorts and rucksack are part of almost every youth’s equipment nowadays. It was not so before 1914, I think.

To evolve a travel poster one first visits the place to be advertised in a receptive state of mind, open to impressions, seeking to find characteristic differences from other familiar or more familiar spots. The popular and famous features are likely to be among the most interesting, since general consent and popular taste are not always as wrong as some would have us believe.

The viewpoint most commonly chosen for portrayal will not, however, as a rule, be the most suitable one to decide on. An endeavour must be made to find a fresh viewpoint of a popular subject, an aspect or effect that has breadth and fulfils the requirements of a poster in being arresting, memorable and with a basic simplicity in form or contour. The locality must be immediately recognisable.

The Thames at Richmond (preliminary rough sketch in watercolour (made in winter) for poster reproduced in colour below).

An experienced landscape artist acquires an eye for these things. Looking round an expansive stretch of countryside he is able to estimate from which points such views are likely to be obtainable. History writes itself on buildings and the land just as do time and weather, enriching and colouring for the artist’s interpretation. Sometimes (more often in the past than nowadays, when advertisers have grown a little more aware of the artist’s problems) artists have found it necessary to explore a district in winter or early spring when planning a poster to be published in summer and with summer’s appeal. It is then that the experience of years in growing familiar with nature’s effects and their causes benefits the artist. He can clothe the bare trees with foliage, light them by the sun. As an example of this method, a rough sketch of Richmond made in winter is reproduced above. From this I produced the poster which is reproduced in colour depicting the same scene as it would appear in summertime.

Poster, size of original, 28" x 20". Richmond. This poster, showing the Thames at Richmond in summertime, was produced from the watercolour sketch produced above, executed in winter.

Sometimes you may, making a quick sketch of the subject consisting of a few lines or masses, convey more, seize essentials more emphatically, epitomise the subject in terms of design, more completely and effectively than if you produced an elaborate study.

In any case it is a good practice to make such quick sketches to seize on the main feature that will control the development of the design. Having recoded your information and suggested the main scheme, retire to the quiet of the studio and get to work while it is all fresh in your mind.

Sometimes the client wants to see roughs; this is a tricky moment. I much prefer submitting a finished work and risking its possible rejection, or, to escape the dilemma, making roughs which are almost finished designs, that is, roughs carried far enough to ensure that everything is understandable, and the main effect conveyed. By making such minor additions or modifications as may be necessary, on further thought and debate, I can carry forward such an advanced rough to completion. To make a really fine sketch and then hope to repeat its spontaneity and spirit, to work it out a second times without losing its original freshness, is to hope for too much. Many finished works fall below the standard of the first rough sketch because the idea has been too completely realised in an early state. Nothing has been left demanding the effort of realisation; the interest and inspiration are spent, and only the tedium of repetition remains.

Whatever mood possesses you as you work will show itself in the design. Keenness and live interest must imbue the artist until the design is complete. These attributes must be evident in every stroke – at least this is the true ideal and aim. The subject is held in mind until it is realised and one can go no farther – second thoughts are not always soundest. This is why the intimate jotting may ultimately prove to be a better basis for creating a fine design than the elaborate study. The sketch is suggestive without being exacting. Turner made some of his greatest pictures from the most summary notes, but he painted from a mind stored with observations.

So we get back to the value of the sketches and studies made by the artist from sheer joy and personal interest – such sketches make up the background of all his endeavours. In the studio the artist examines his sketches and selects the materials, decides on a colour scheme, making perhaps a few preliminary small sketches of the subject in the limited number of colours chosen, to see how much can be achieved. Then, having boldly drawn in the subject in pencil or charcoal, he sets to work with vigour and hopeful intensity on the final version. He either pulls it off or has to start again after a consideration of how and where he has missed the mark.

Someone will be enquiring by this time: ‘Is not originality an essential of poster design?’ ‘Originality is undiscovered plagiarity ‘, said Wilde. But on looking at the repetition of cardboard hands and other stereotyped features we see in modern designs that claim to be strikingly original, one wonders how the plagiarity escapes discovery.

Artists achieve genuine originality through their personal search for truth or aspects of it, often when striving along traditional lines, over traversed paths and when handling popular subjects. To strain after originality consciously often gives most painful results, and novelty and fashion are things of different quality. Fantasy, too, is different to originality. Fitness of purpose for the work in hand is the true criterion, and a most exacting one if properly understood. Originality which is not a further extension or fresh aspect of the fitting is retrograde and decadent.

A sound knowledge of lettering is essential to a poster designer. Many excellent works have been written on the subject, such as Edward Johnson’s books. From the Victoria and Albert Museum students can get a useful booklet on Roman lettering, charts of Eric Gill’s alphabets, and photographic reproductions of the lettering on the Trajan Column.

Lettering is an essential and integral part of the design of a poster, and should be treated as such. Austin Cooper has contributed to the classic standard forms some bold types which are excellent in their readability and decorative qualities. The typographical contributions he and McKnight Kauffer made, have, however, in less experienced hands, been corrupted and abused, I feel. The tendency in many modern designs, as I have already said, is to disregard fitness in the search for novelty; the essential qualities of good lettering and the dignity it imparts are being lost in the striving for originality and wilful eccentricity. If lettering is to be readable the need to adhere to traditional standards is quite imperative. One can refine and develop standards and apply them with a variety of emphasis, but the basic standards of form, spacing, and good layout must be maintained.

Of ‘slogans’, what can we say? They are the drum beats and trumpeting of the world’s fair. The subtlest slogans achieve their end discreetly. A quotation from literature or poetry, aptly and not irrelevantly applied, can be and has been used in posters with very satisfactory results. The easily invented jingle is remembered until it sometimes comes to be regarded as a joke, which is harmful to the original publicity motive. Slogans are so often pretentious or an exaggeration no one believes. ‘It is just an advertisement’, people say, which is a reproach with a sting in it for the advertising fraternity.

Nevertheless, the constant repetition of a name or a short apt phrase impinges the advertised commodity on the memory and has publicity value. This method is in the oldest traditions of advertising. The simpler and more dignified the statement the better it lasts and serves.

It was in 1921, encouraged by my friend Haydon Mackey, who is adept in the art, that I first experimented with linocutting. Following the contribution of some designs to the periodical, Form, edited by Austin O. Spare, and with the aid of my students at the Walthamstow Educational Settlement, I cut a large number of blocks and printed them by hand in black and white, and in colour.

As our work progressed, the medium disclosed its infinite possibilities, and I urged Frank Pick to allow me to cut blocks for posters advertising the Underground, as I felt sure the medium was very suitable for large scale printing. He was at first doubtful whether such blocks would stand up to the requirements of the hoardings, but agreed to the experiment, Harlow Mill, reproduced below, was the first poster produced in this way. It was printed by the Curwen Press direct from my blocks. I fancy my linocut posters are among the most effective designs I have produced.

Harlow Mill, Poster by Walter E. Spradbery (by courtesy of L.P.T.B.)

The Two Mills, Outwood, Surrey, was designed as a companion to Harlow Mill (above). Two thousand copies of each were then printed and the blocks, which I still possess, are as good as when first cut. A small special edition has since been printed from them.

Appreciation of the possibilities of the medium immediately grew, and the original two were followed by more ambitious efforts printed from three blocks. With these the picture and surrounding border were cut full size on lino, and the border was planned so that it could be printed separately as a frame round letterpress bills. These unique designs still give me great satisfaction.

For the making and printing of posters the linocut has by no means been fully exploited. The execution of his own design in this medium ensures that the artist guides his work through every stage to the printing of the finished bill. The final result is an impression from blocks which are in every detail his own work. He cannot be led away by the temptation to think of the poster as just a painting or picture, nor create difficulties and problems of reproduction that may not be satisfactorily solved. The design will, inevitably, be conceived, developed and treated as a print.

The value of breadth and simplicity will be ever present in his mind and the medium will compel him to exploit these qualities. The lino cut has a distinctive quality – it encourages the ‘pooling’ of lights and darks, and gives characteristic textures of white line engraving and hatching that are very pleasing.

Woodcuts, wood engravings and Japanese colour prints were the forerunners of the linocut, but the latter has possibilities beyond the scope of the wood block, since linoleum can be obtained in unjoined blocks of considerable size. It is easier to cut, having no grain, takes and yields the ink beautifully without absorbing it into the printing surface, is resilient, does not warp, and, with reasonable care, stands up to a great deal of hard wear.

It is basically a modern form of the most primitive forms of printing from relief blocks practised in and ancient times: the uncut surface of the linoleum forms the printing surface in the relief, standing above the parts which are cut away with gouges and V-tools, or a knife. It is a craft so easy to learn that young children can and do cut interesting linocuts. At the same time artists can make linocuts of the greatest beauty and power.

Once the artist has worked out a rough idea and the preliminary sketches have been made, the design can be painted and developed on the blocks, trial prints being taken as the work progresses. The character of the medium encourages incisiveness and deliberation, definition and precision – the artist’s idea is consequently expressed more easily and more effectively.

The fact that the design on the block prints in reverse causes no great difficulty. A mirror will reverse the preliminary sketches so that they can be drawn direct on to the block from the reflection. Before the stage of trial printing is reached, the block can be viewed in the mirror to see what it will look like when an impression is taken. Oil inks, such as are used by letterpress and lithographic printers, should be used for pulling proofs, and these can be applied to the blocks with a roller, brush or dabber. If a thin paper is used, no press is needed for pulling the trial proofs. The paper is simply laid on the blocks, rubbed on the back with a spoon or baren and the ink is pressed on to the paper.

This Article is from the July 1947 issue of The Artist

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