Avant-Garde Graphics: 1918-34
Until November 27; Hunterian Art Gallery, Glasgow

There’s nothing new under the sun, and the Hunterian has the proof. We might think that 21st century graphic design is at the cutting edge, and that new technology has put us in brand new creative territory. Actually that territory was conquered, and that edge well and truly cut, eighty years ago. Almost everything that’s happened since is a mere shadow.

If you don’t believe me, go to the Hunterian Art Gallery. It’s the first stop for a touring exhibition of 140 posters and designs, lent by the voracious American collector, Merrill C Berman. Ranging largely across Soviet Constructivism and Bauhaus design, the posters seem to shout with revolutionary excitement. “The future has arrived!” they seem to say, “get it while you still can!”.

The posters are largely printed in blocks of red, black and blue, and while their contents are utterly fresh, the flimsy, disposable sheets of paper are not as white as they once were. Having said that, they’re in remarkable condition considering their origins. If only the grey, fabric walls were less museum-like, and the posters were not sandwiched between Stubbs at one end and Whistler at the other, they might manage to shout a bit louder.

Graphic design, as we know it today, was made possible by the conscious blurring of boundaries between high art and handicrafts. William Morris got the ball rolling in the late 19th century, but things got really interesting when artists started experimenting with new printing technologies between the two world wars.

Text was no longer a minor add-on to artists’ images. Decoration was no longer a printer’s afterthought. The two were fused like never before. “The new typography”, wrote influential Bauhaus artist Lászlò Moholy-Nagy in 1923, “is a simultaneous experience of vision and communication.”

That’s why Theo Ballmer’s eye-catching büro poster, made entirely of chunky, curved lettering, works so well. It’s why the angled words in Jan Tschichold’s film poster anchor the entire composition and why the gymnast in Marianne Brandt’s sport montage can dangle from a piece of text, zooming through the air.

it was at the Bauhaus that the question was first asked, why do we use capital letters in writing? we don’t speak in capitals. they also pioneered the use of simple, geometrical fonts without fussy serifs on the letters. even now, sanserif typefaces, all in lower case, look modern and fresh. it’s been that way since the 1920s.

The other major innovation of the time was photo montage. Advances in printing methods meant that artists could incorporate photographic images into their designs, and indeed Moholy-Nagy insisted on it. A combination of type and photos, he said, created “the most precise visual communication”. He called it typofoto. The word didn’t really catch on, but the concept is still going strong.

Berman’s collection offers us a treat in the field of photo montage. Not only can we see great Soviet posters like Gustav Klucis’s Plan for the Socialist Offensive, but we can also see the artist’s original hand-pasted design. He cut out numerous different photographs and pasted them together, painting and gluing the lettering in on top. A whole range of hand-painted designs bring home the compositional genius of these artists. It’s yet to be surpassed, but its clear influence is evident on generations of artists like Sigmar Polke, Eduardo Paolozzi, Toby Paterson and Martin Boyce.

Not all of the most famous posters of the 1920s are in this exhibition, but the big names are. It’s an inspiring range of fresh ideas whose revolutionary beginnings became dampened by fascism in the late 1930s, re-emerging after the war. What’s depressing is that this radicalism was steadily eroded over the years, as the future became an ever-increasing disappointment. I have always envied the artists of the revolution for those exciting days, when art and technology would change the world.

Catrìona Black, Sunday Herald 31.10.04