Out on the Rolling Sea

This elegant and crisp graphic confection, executed with precision by a maestro of the airbrush, was the initial introduction to the delights of an ocean voyage under the flag of the Rotterdamsche-Lloyd shipping line. Below decks, great armies of engineers and stokers, chefs and stewards, porters and waiters toiled in the service of another great army of colonial administrators and diplomats, bank officials and mining engineers, adventurers and confidence tricksters who wiled away the interminable hours at sea in an orgy of food and drink, gambling and fornication. Everyone on board the Dempo, departing Rotterdam for Batavia on August 26th. 1936 is on the Passenger List together with their port of origin. A lively time seems in prospect with several clergymen (of various denominations), senior military officers and professors, not to mention knights of the realm and a Baron (Hoyningen-Huene) competing for attention at the bar. As for the Dempo, it served as a British troop carrier in World War II before being sunk by a U-boat en route from Naples to Oran in the Mediterranean in March 1944.

Postcard of the Day No. 28, La station des omnibus

This is the sort of card that the French describe as a CPA animée. Hardcore postcard collectors are always in pursuit of animation in topographical cards of which this is an exemplar. It’s packed with anecdotal detail of city life a century ago at the moment when the horse gave way to the internal combustion engine on the grands boulevards. On the right we have two horse drawn vehicles, one of which appears to be in the capable hands of Henri Matisse. The atmospheric mix of horse dung and carbon monoxide emissions would have made for a torrid summer afternoon. The percussive effects of horseshoes on paved streets and the throbbing of primitive petrol engines would have assaulted the eardrums. The chaos and disorder of the modern city in all its raucous splendour was busy being born.

Publicité Touristique

This French National Railways (SNCF) electric locomotive represented the very latest in motive power when this illustration appeared in print. SNCF was very active in setting new standards for speed of travel and a new world record record speed of 331 km. per hour was achieved in 1955 by a similar locomotive. The artwork has been produced in a much modified streamline idiom in which the smoothly airbrushed forms of the past have been replaced by dashing brushwork intended to convey an impression of high velocity.


This brochure was published by SNCF in 1956 to attract visitors from Britain. It promotes a highly coloured vision of France as a land of unlimited pleasures via a plain and simple graphic style. The compositional dynamics of the pre-war era have been discarded in favour of illustrations composed of bright colour washes overlaid with scratchy pen and ink work. There’s a lingering air of visual whimsy very characteristic of the period. This was a well timed move on the part of SNCF as British mass tourism was on the very point of abandoning the traditional home-grown (and rain-swept) resorts for more exotic destinations overseas in gentler climes.


Finally, a photo of another identical locomotive, BB-9004, seen here in a position of rest in the unusual surroundings of the Grand Palais in Paris, taking part in an exhibition to celebrate 70 years of SNCF in December 2007.

Today’s Recipe

This treat for the tastebuds comes courtesy of the HõVIS™ Book of Sandwich Delights, a compendium of sweet and savoury self-indulgence from the inter-war years. Today’s recommendation is the Bovril and Nasturtium Sandwich, an inspired combination of beef extract and garden plant. Bovril, the subject of a previous posting, is a Marmite-style concoction for carnivores and one of those products whose consumers would be ill-advised to enquire too closely into its contents or manufacturing process. Nasturtium leaves have a peppery flavour, reminiscent of watercress and so long as they’re harvested before the caterpillars devour them, will make an exciting accompaniment to the salty tang of Bovril. To quote from the source – a very piquante experience.

Frozen Footsteps

Interest in the art of perambulation, wandering to see and be seen, developed in the 19th century with the emergence of a leisured middle class. Fresh air was credited with a strong association with good health. Atmospheric pollution in urban areas enhanced the appeal of the bracing seaside airs. The fledgling fashion industry created and fed a demand for clothing that was primarily designed for public display. The era is the end of the Belle Époque. The development of railways has brought the Normandy Coast within easy reach of Paris. The vast boulevards of Haussmann’s Paris came well provided with broad pavements ideal for accommodating large numbers of strollers. Promenades and boardwalks performed the same function at the coast. While Parisians exhibit the self-assurance born of a conviction that their superiority in terms of fashion was unchallengeable, in Dieppe the light pastel tones suggest that an air of cool comfort was the priority.


The enlarged details remind us that these images are not as descriptive as at first they appear. A solitary female is accompanied by a dog, another gathers her dress to avoid tripping over, yet another smiles broadly in the direction of the camera. A wayward child holds what looks like a pea-shooter to his lips. One man carries a newspaper, another smokes a cigar, yet another walks with hands clasped behind his back. Male and female, all are wearing hats; canes and parasols are much in evidence. Their images and their shadows have outlived them. We could be looking at film stills from a Visconti period drama where the past is recreated in colour and light. The details can be observed and noted but documentary pretences are erased as all that seemed solid begins to fray at the edges where contours dissolve. Enlarging the products of mechanical reproduction induces myopia as if the images have decayed with the passage of time.

It’s wise to go Whizzer

It took some courage to develop a slender lightweight motorcycle in the spiritual home of monster bikes. Even more reckless to name this humble contraption a Whizzer and market it to a public more accustomed to the chrome plated extravaganzas that cruised America’s highways where a motorcycle was a hog. Despite all this, the Whizzer enjoyed some success in the late 1940s but in 1955 production ceased. After a 42 year interlude, a new Whizzer was launched in 1997 and production continues to the present day. Perhaps in the wake of the credit crunch the Whizzer’s day is about to dawn. It’s pleasing to dream of an alternative universe in which the Whizzer triumphed over the Harley, thus giving rise to a completely new breed of Hell’s Angel.

Mondrian’s Grid

 Every so often the name of Mondrian will spring into the mind of a graphic designer in search of inspiration. What happens next is that the carefully considered principles of composition that Mondrian employed in the fine calibration of his grid paintings are systematically discarded and relegated to a supporting role on which to display the product. Mondrian’s hard-won pictorial values are consigned to the trash. For all Mondrian’s insistence on the spiritual content in his paintings they have been adapted with ease to serve the material values of advertising. I have a sneaking admiration for the impudence with which these images are commandeered even though the results seem uninspired. It’s anyone’s guess what Mondrian would have said but there was a streak of unpredictability in his character and it wouldn’t be safe to assume that he would have automatically rejected this back-handed compliment. The last paintings produced in New York just before his death in 1944 suggest that the dynamic visual environment of the city made a profound impression on him and that he was not immune to the attractions of popular culture. There is a graphic design template known as a Mondrian Grid Layout but these examples displayed here are more explicit in borrowing from the artist. Two of them come from the Cold War era and the third is of recent origin. Mondrian’s pictorial vocabulary is so easily co-opted there are sure to be many more.