‘An art of the people for their homes.’
Claude Flight

One of my favourite exhibitions of 2019 considered the art of the linocut. (‘Cutting Edge: Modernist British Printmaking’ was at the Dulwich Picture Gallery some while ago, but you can still buy the excellent book that accompanied the exhibition.)

Linoleum, or lino, is a cheap, hardwearing and easily cleaned floor covering invented in the 1860s by the Englishman Frederick Walton. It is made by fixing a mixture of cork and linseed oil onto a canvas backing. In the early twentieth century German printmakers developed the technique of the linocut: a design is cut into a linoleum sheet with a sharp knife or V-shaped chisel; the lino is inked with a roller and then pressed onto paper or fabric. 

Between 1925 and the start of the Second World War the Grosvenor School of Modern Art in Pimlico was the centre of a pioneering movement in British printmaking. The group was led by visionary teacher and artist Claude Flight, who believed that the linocut, with its affordable materials and accessible techniques, was a truly democratic medium. 

‘The linocut is different to the other printing mediums. It has no tradition of technique behind it, so that the student can go forward without thinking of what Bewick and Rembrandt did before. He can make his own tradition, and coming at a time like the present when new ideas and ideals are shaping themselves out of apparent chaos, he can do his share in building up a new and more vital art of tomorrow.’ 
Claude Flight, 1934

The particular nature of the linocut demanded strong lines and a reduced colour palette. It predisposed printmakers to convey patterns, rhythms and movement. And Flight’s modernist, egalitarian ideals prompted his students to articulate themes of contemporary urban life.

And so we see the serried ranks of rush hour commuters descending into the underground gloom, all hatted with hunched shoulders. The tube carriages are cramped and grim faced. The red buses crowd down Regent Street, past the policeman and the Bovril advert. Umbrellas are held like legionary shields to the wind and rain. There are flat-capped workers digging the road, laying cable, sticking up posters. Porters bustle past us, flower girls stoop under their heavy panniers. 

Time to relax and put our feet up. Deckchairs in the park, parasols, newspapers and sweet tea. Let’s sit back and watch the horse guards. And then the city turns to play. There’s tennis, rugby and hockey; skiing, skating and sledging. The speedway riders lean into the corner, the footballers lean into the tackle. The merry-go-round spins faster, the rumba band kicks in. And so at last the dancers hit the stage. 

Do you remember?

The linocuts of the Grosvenor School capture the dynamism of the industrial age, the pulsating tempo of city streets, the teeming life of the public transport system, the vibrant leisure pursuits of working people. This is the modern world, thrilling and vigorous; buzzing, humming and fizzing. It’s the rhythm of change.

These were fresh themes for British art. Since linocuts came from such humble origins, they were not taken seriously by the art establishment And so their creators felt free from conventional definitions of what constituted appropriate subject matter. 

What’s more, because the linocut printmakers were unencumbered by traditional art school training, they were liberated to explore contemporary styles of expression: Futurism, Vorticism and Cubism.

Flight ensured that the doors to the linocut medium were open as wide as possible. He published manuals and lectured extensively. And you needed no qualifications to attend his classes.

‘Sometimes in his classes it is hard to remember that he is teaching, so complete is the camaraderie between him and his students. He treats them as fellow-artists rather than pupils, discusses with them and suggests to them, never dictates or enforces. At the same time he is so full of enthusiasm for his subject, and his ideas are so clear and reasoned, that it is impossible for his students not to be influenced by them.’
Artist Eveline Syme on Claude Flight

Flight teaches us that we can transform any artform by placing it in the hands of ordinary people: Create a medium that is affordable and available. Consider subjects that are real and relevant. Communicate in a style that is contemporary and current. 

Simple.

Flight had imagined that the linocut would be accessible not just to ordinary artists, but also to ordinary buyers. However, the Grosvenor House prints were so popular that on average they sold for 2 guineas apiece - which was about the average weekly wage at the time. Flight was a victim of his own success.

‘What was wrong with me was that I had to see
All of the changes I’d put you through.
So now I’m changing for you.
Changing.
Really, really, really, really
Changing, girl.’

The Chi Lites, ‘Changing for You’ (A Calvard, A Reynolds, E Davis, F Reynolds, L Simon, Jr.)

No. 289