BRITAIN CAN MAKE IT
By M. H. MIDDLETON
BUT if only Britain could ventilate it as well! If you're really interested, take a " season " and visit a section at a time. Don't try to see everything in one glorious do-or-die effort, because, if you do, you will not only become fuddled with an excess of observation but will find yourself a prey, when you reach the last section, to an almost overpowering desire to slip between the non-existent sheets of the air-conditioned bed of the future and manipulate the handy control-panel to produce a suitably cooling temperature. Although Britain Can Make It covers, they say, only about one-fifth of the floor space of a pre-war British Industries Fair, it seems likely—and deservedly so—to draw at least five times as many visitors. It will be a pity if exhaustion overcomes all but the most tenacious before the final sections are reached, for these include some of the most interest- ing material, and the exhibition as a whole is, I suspect, the best of its kind that London has ever seen.
It is frustrating of course. One may study, as one progresses from display to dazzling display, the growth of a curious inversion. At the outset one's neighbour, eagle-eyed and unconvinced by the alleged need to balance our imports and exports, may be seen to fasten upon every neat little card which says " Available Soon " or " Available Later "—as opposed to " Available Now "—with a snort of dis- approval. At a later stage of the exhibition, however, it will be found that he or she no longer appears to expect an article to be for imme- diate sale or actual use. One young lady, whom I chanced to overhear, was positively upset because a pair of shoes on view were available at her local shoe-shop now, while those swinging on a garden seat, for example, may be seen to be wearing expressions of devil-may-care audacity or downright guilt. In point of fact quite a large proportion of the 6,000 or so articles displayed are already available in some measure in the home market—or will be so by Christmas. The remainder are acting as our ambassadors overseas, and provide, of course, the primary reason for Westminster's—or Whitehall's—new interest in design.
One may find in Shakespeare's sonnets a line which refers to " Art made tongue-tied by Authority." Never was this less true of Authority in the form of the British Government than today, and the Council of Industrial Design—the sponsors and organisers of the present exhibi- tion—provide an important part of the evidence to the contrary. The organisation was set up less than two years ago with the object of promoting " by all practicable means the improvement of design in industry." On the one hand it is hoped to lead industry by example ; on the other to stimulate public demand for better goods. In this, their first big public display, they've certainly gone to town. It may be said, indeed, not unfairly, that the setting is more brilliant than the jewel. Mr. James Gardner and Mr. Basil Spence, the chief designer and chief architect respectively, have done their work admirably. There are slips here and there—the massive plaster affair in the women's fashion section, trundlingly revolving its ungracious life away, is the major blunder—but for the most part no. opportunity has been lost to employ the most varied and spirited means of presentation. The resultant atmosphere is exhilarating. Particularly I liked the sections devoted to toys, travel and sport.
The exhibition commences with the transition from war to peace, from Spitfire to saucepan, from inflatable dummy 6-pounder to an inflatable armchair you can pack away in your suitcase. Through a hall imaginatively demonstrating the main materials at the modern designer's disposal, one passes into the hurly-burly of the goods themselves. Furnishing and dress fabrics mostly excellent (note the developments in the cotton fabrics in regard to texture) ; some good pottery ; some good glass (china interesting for the application of lithographed designs) ; packaging nicely demonstrated (the grocer's where grandmother went shopping especially fetching) ; kitchen and household machines and utensils getting more ship-shape, more sensible, more foolproof all the time (what joy amongst us men when the combined switchboard-fusebox becomes available) ; shoes and men's clothes, most of the furniture, of high quality ; typography and book-production excellent if incomplete ; toys—well, if you value your sanity, go to any lengths to keep from your children this revela- tion. Of course, there are gaps—designed carpets and rugs, for example. " No good alarm clock," said my neighbour ; and women's clothes are mostly shocking. But on the whole the standard is high. And the general verdict? British craftsmanship is as excellent as ever—the more so as a result of technological advances. Design is unadventurous but traditionally progressive. Colour is being used better than I can remember in my lifetime.
The exhibits have been chosen by the various committees of the Council of Industrial Design with great care. It now remains to be seen whether the public response to Britain Can Make It will force these manufacturers to reconsider the whole question of design. Good design seldom costs more than bad design, and I for one am convinced, that other things being equal, the public will buy the object that the more fittingly serves its essential purpose, looks good and feels good—in other words that design pays. Let me quote in support the experience of M. Jean Lurcat concerning whose tapestries I wrote a week or two ago. In 1939 M. Lurgat settled at Aubusson, where there were then some hundred weavers employed. By inter- esting other contemporary painters in his project, he was able to call upon the best modern design. Today, after a period in which one might have expected the whole scheme to have collapsed com- pletely, there are four times as many weavers at Aubusson alone, and a tremendous revival of the craft is in progress elsewhere. So, although Britain Can Make It is good, I feel we can yet do better. I think we shall, and I'm looking forward to the 1951 Exhibition with great hopes.
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