Courtesy the Estate of Abram Games
"Alan Kitching and Monotype: Celebrating the centenary of five pioneers of the poster," an upcoming exhibition at the London College of Communication, celebrates the five most memorable poster artists of the last century. We look back on some of their most exceptional works. (This 1941 Auxiliary Territorial Service poster by Abram Games was quickly recalled when the authorities decided it looked too glamorous.)
Courtesy the Estate of Abram Games
Games, who served as Britain's official war artist during WWII, was known for his memorable propaganda, bold use of color (as demonstrated in this poster from 1947), and skill with the airbrush. This poster for the Auxiliary Territorial Service, made by Abram Games in 1941, was recalled because authorities again thought it looked too glamorous.
Courtesy the Estate of Abram Games
A poster for the British Overseas Airways Corporation, 1950
Courtesy the Estate of Abram Games
Games' posters for Guinness (including this 5 million Guinness Daily poster from 1958) were a universal hit with consumers.
Courtesy the Estate of Abram Games
Carfree Carefree, 1967
Courtesy Alan Kitching/David Chambers
Kitching's tribute to Games includes a number of nods to specific Games posters, most notably the red A, which directly references the designer's ATS poster. "(Games) used to use an airbrush, which gives graduations of very soft color, shades. That was his specialty, so I've tried to suggest that," Kitching explains. "And he did work for Guinness, which is where the big black G comes in."
Kind permission of Dika Eckersley
Tom Eckersley is most well-known for this work with the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, and other organizations that raised public awareness about common issues. "He was telling people what to do, but in a very nice, very graphic way," Kitching says.
Kind permission of Dika Eckersley
He also made a number of posters for the London College of Printing (now the London College of Communication), where he was an instructor. This one promoting a student exhibition was made in 1961.
Kind permission of Dika Eckersley
A poster for the Victoria line of the London Underground, 1968
Kind permission of Dika Eckersley
A library poster made for the London College of Printing, 1975
Kind permission of Dika Eckersley
An advertisement for London's Imperial War Museum, 1981
Courtesy Alan Kitching/David Chambers
"Tom used to use flat color and geometric shapes, so that's what I'm trying to do with this. That's why I used this T with the big serif, with big slabs like this," explains Kitching.
Kind permission from Marion Wesel-Henrion
Though FHK Henrion was born in Germany, he spent most of his life in England. Like Games and Eckersley, he relied on the creative use of images and minimal text. This 1942 poster for the U.S. Office of War Information's Young American exhibition in London is a prime example.
Kind permission from Marion Wesel-Henrion
Henrion specialized in commercial work, like this 1948 poster for the now-defunct British South American Airways, and is considered an early innovator in the field of corporate identity.
Kind permission from Marion Wesel-Henrion
This 1961 poster was used to promote the Olivetti Lettera 32 (a typewriter).
Kind permission from Marion Wesel-Henrion
For Liberty Exhibition poster, 1981
Kind permission from Marion Wesel-Henrion
Henrion was president of Icograda, an organization that celebrates players in the world of communication and design, from 1968 to 1970. He designed this poster for the 12th Icograda Student Seminar in 1986.
Courtesy Alan Kitching/David Chambers
For Henrion's monogram, Kitching took a more tongue-in-cheeck approach. "Henrion had a French connection: everyone thought he was French, but he wasn't. I was trying to emulate that with the French flag."
Courtesy the Paul Rand Estate
Brooklyn-born Paul Rand, the only non-European being celebrated, was a commercial artist, first and foremost. His bright colors and creative use of type stand out immediately. This poster was created for the Minute Man National Historical in Massachusetts in 1975.
Courtesy the Paul Rand Estate
He worked extensively with IBM, and is responsible for their striped logo, which is still in use today. This Eye, Bee, M poster was designed in 1981.
Courtesy the Paul Rand Estate
Rand also served as an art director at Esquire-Coronet magazines and created covers for Apparel Arts (now GQ). He was inducted into the Art Directors Club hall of fame in 1972, and created this poster for the group in 1988.
Courtesy the Paul Rand Estate
Rand created many posters for the University of California, Los Angeles' summer session catalogs (including this one from 1993), all pro bono.
Courtesy Alan Kitching/David Chambers
"The P is a shadow letter. It looks more like a puzzle, or a playful little thing, which is what Paul used to do in his own work and children's books. He used flat areas of color, geometric shapes, and things like that," Kitching says.
Courtesy Alan Kitching/David Chambers
Josef Müller-Brockmann, who lived and worked in Switzerland, is recognized for his use of clean typefaces, and the fact that he rarely featured images on his posters. His concert posters for the Tonhalle concert hall in Zurich exemplified his tendency to use lines and simple geometric shapes, as well as color contrast to create interest, which Kitching has incorporated into his monogram.

Story highlights

Letterpress artist Alan Kitching and Monotype have joined forces to commemorate five poster design greats with a series of prints

Tom Eckersley, Abram Games, FHK Henrion, Josef Müller-Brockmann and Paul Rand were the leading poster artists of the last century

Their designs were widely revered by the public and the graphic design community

CNN  — 

1914 was a good year for poster design. You’d be forgiven for not knowing it was then that five of the world’s top poster designers were born: Tom Eckersley, Abram Games, FHK Henrion, Josef Müller-Brockmann and Paul Rand.

Though they were from different backgrounds and worked separately, the five are largely responsible for bringing modernist design and typeface sensibilities to the world of poster design from the 1940s on.

“It was a sort of Golden Age of the poster,” says legendary letterpress designer Alan Kitching.

While their names have all but slipped from public memory, a new project from Kitching and Monotype, one of the world’s leading typeface design companies, is shining a new light on their revolutionary poster work, 100 years after their birth.

Philip Sayer
Letterpress designer and Monotype collaborator Alan Kitching.

The results: a series of posters fusing each designer’s style with Kitching’s, and “Alan Kitching and Monotype: Celebrating the centenary of five pioneers of the poster,” an exhibition at the London College of Communication for the London Design Festival, that will showcase Kitching’s work alongside posters from each designers’ estate.

The artist at work

I meet Kitching at his workshop near the London College of Communication. The smell of ink and metal hits you at the door, growing stronger as you move closer to the intimidating printing press in the back. Prints of his work—eye-popping text images in rainbow hues—hang from the walls, the ceiling, a drying line. The hundreds of typeface alphabets he’s made and amassed over the years (the largest collection in Europe), from indecipherably small metal nubs to wooden letters the size of a man’s forearm, are filed away in stacked tiers, and leaned against walls. His only computer is a first-generation MacBook he uses to check emails.

Over the last 50 years, Kitching has built a reputation as one of the world’s most acclaimed letterpress designers. And like the designers he’s commemorating, he’s inspired by the beauty of type.

Alan Kitching at work on his Monotype prints in his London workshop. - (Courtesy Phil Sayer)

“The printed word is still powerful,” he says. “I wanted to take letterpress technology and move it somewhere else from when it used to be useful.”

This dedication to type as art is evident in the prints he created for the collaboration. The colorful posters meld Kitching’s penchant for monograms (“I like that idea of monograms: two letters interacting to make a third image,”) with each designer’s spirit. Their influences resonate like a baseline: Games’ initials feature the bold font made famous by his posters for the Auxiliary Territorial Service (the women’s branch of the British army) during World War II; Rand’s feature the colorful simplicity that he would later bring to children’s books.

Posters, now and then

Kitching is quick to distinguish his posters from those being commemorated. While he has done functional posters, most of his have been designed as prints, strictly things of beauty. But earlier in the 20th-century, when the designers were first breaking ground in graphic design, posters were society’s primary form of communication.

“There were no other means of getting your message out there then. It was just posters,” he says.

In a time before the ubiquity of photography (let alone Photoshop), good design was paramount. It was all about the “interpretation of an idea in a graphic way.”

For these artists, this interpretation was realized through geometric shapes, meaningful text and inventive use of color. The diversity of their work proved these principles could be applied for almost any cause, from Eckersley’s simple-but-effective posters for the Royal Society for the Prevention of Accidents, to Rand and Henrion’s branding work for IBM and KLM respectively; from Games’ provocative war propaganda to Müller-Brockmann’s geometric orchestra adverts.

“There’s nothing between the message and the image. At a glance, you’ve got it. You didn’t need a lot of words. The image is the message,” Kitching says. “That’s what they were masters of: condensing down a problem to a single cool item with bang.”

The public generally responded positively (Games’ Guinness posters were universal favorites), but each designer received their share of push-back. One of Games’ ATS recruitment posters was recalled after only a few weeks because authorities thought the glamorous woman shown sent the wrong message about the war effort, and another depicting a young boy in poverty was banned by Winston Churchill himself for being too negative.

The others’ posters were derided for being too strange, too modern, and too ugly.

“A lot of people didn’t recognize the things they did,” Kitching explains. “They thought they were too advanced, too modern because they were working ahead of their time, really.”

Yet somehow their legacy survives.

The end of an era

Much has changed since Eckersley, Games, Henrion, Müller-Brockmann, and Rand elevated the poster to high art. Changing technology has rendered their methods obsolete, and posters have had to become more brash and stylized to keep the public’s attention.

“A lot of things today have very fleeting life. It’s ephemeral. It comes out quickly and it certainly doesn’t last that long,” Kitching says.

But the appeal of these modernist designs, now decades old, remains. Posters that were quite common during their time now sell for exorbitant prices at auction. And to Kitching and other designers, they are a vestige of another time when a handful of great designers ruled supreme.

“They were regarded as the high professional designers of the world,” Kitching says. “Even now, people look back at them and say, ‘That was a great time to be doing posters.’”

Alan Kitching will be speaking about the designers at Five Lives in Posters: A Panel Discussion at the London College of Communication on September 18, 2014.