A paper tale

I received a lovely book in the post a couple of weeks ago, from a friend who also has shelves full of stuff, both metaphorically speaking and in reality. The book The New Practical Display Instructor dates from 1954 and is full of ideas and step-by-step recipes for the window display practitioner in your life.

The Instructor was printed by the Blandford Press, printers of many similar sorts of books in the first half of the 20th Century, some of which I already had on my shelves. The Practical Display Instructor books were produced regularly and - particularly in view of their low production values - seem to have been the Dummies Guides of their day. But the photographs were usually updated with each edition, making the books great for researching changing trends in window display.

Paper cutting and paper sculpture was a skill that was peculiarly Polish, developing out of a common folk art into a fine art. It came to England and America, like so many aspects of shop window display, with the arrival of émigré artists fleeing Nazism in the 30s and 40s.

The only remaining evidence of these artists is often found in these funny window display books, which almost always have a chapter on paper sculpture. The cracker pictured here is credited to Jan J Kepinski & Associates. It was obviously chosen as an exemplary example of the genre. But who was Jan J Kepinski? Where did he work?

And through whose shop windows did this chipper gent stroll, in his jaunty checked trews, trying to keep his magnificent beard dry under his paper umbrella?

She's a model

The V&A may be congratulating itself on the wonderful show Hats: An Anthology by Stephen Jones which has just opened but you can find hats in less busy places, places you didn’t expect to find them – the Science Museum, for instance.

I pass this scene most weeks, whilst working alongside the venerable Shipping Gallery in the museum. It is one of my favourite galleries, full of cases of model ships. All kinds of ships and 'sailing craft' from all over the world. The models and their backdrops are beautiful - crafted by different hands, some good, some great and some just surreal. But they all repay close examination for anyone with an interest in things museological and display.

I love the Barbie quality of this particular model Pedalo scene. Actually, it’s Barbie and Ken. Dressed in summer casuals for a leisurely pedal past Brighton Pier. The expressions on their faces suggesting a discussion on the merits of a post-pedal ice cream, over a cool G&T with a slice.

Although tiny, (to a scale of 1:8) I have always loved the straw hat she is wearing. It is a bit of Spain in Brighton. It's doing nothing to keep off the sun, merely acting as an accent to her outfit and being great to look at, as a good hat should be.

What is really satisfying is that the museum case still has the original label and it credits the person responsible for making these models, way back in 1959 - a Miss B.M.Campbell. Both the figures and the Pedalo were made in the museum workshops, which are still going strong in the basement. They smell of sawdust, machine oil and history.