Blasts from the Past: The Art Society Press

In 1948, no one at the school took Art seriously. When, that year, Robert Holloway took up the post of Head of Art, this must have been obvious when he was relegated to one of the ‘tin huts’. Half-brick, half corrugated iron, these buildings had been intended as a stopgap when the school moved to Wimbledon in 1897; a persistent lack of funds meant they were still in use fifty years later. Even in photographs, you can feel the grime clinging to the walls, a byproduct of the smoke pumping out of the coal-fired heater which sat in the middle of the room. It is hard to know if Holloway minded these insalubrious conditions. In the one surviving picture of him in the archive, the slightest of smiles animates the lower half of his face while a look in his eyes seems to say, ‘yes, I am laughing at a private joke which I am not about to share.’

Known as Mr Holloway, Bob or Yawolloh (Holloway backwards), he was not like most of the other teachers, with their starched white collars and flowing, black gowns. He had studied not at Oxford or Cambridge but at the Royal College of Art. A spell making maps with the Royal Engineers during the war had not dented his creativity. When he started at King’s, Bob Holloway entered a place which was attempting to rebuild itself, physically and spiritually, in the aftermath of war. But Bob, in his tin-hut, had the freedom to get on with what he wanted to do without much interaction in wider school politics. And what he wanted to do was inspire the boys to look at the world differently. He showed them reproductions of artworks, he took them to exhibitions, he encouraged them to question what art they liked and why. As a mentor, he had credentials. In 1951 he had won the Victoria and Albert Museum's Giles Bequest for his lino-cuts; he was also the first to be made Associate of the Society of Wood Engravers for work in colour lino-cut.

Before long Bob founded the Art Society Press. The art room slowly filled with presses and type and chases and quoins. And pupils. Previously only an option for those in the lower streams, now a range of students willingly signed up. They chose typesetting and linocuts over rugby scrums and marching with the cadets. For many it was a haven; as one alumnus described it, the art room was a ‘refuge for renegades.’ Bob pulled off the double feat of creating a space that felt fun, magic even, but where hard work and high standards were expected. In the art room there was a role for everyone, and pupils were proud to be accepted as belonging there.

Between 1951 and 1969 the press produced 28 books, all filled with innovative creative choices (Holloway devised a method called ‘cut and come again’). Several contain a surreal, irreverent humour inspired, at least in part, by the pupils love of The Goon Show.  Before long the books came to the attention of book designers and collectors. The Victoria and Albert Museum Library bought copies of Alphabets and Printing in School, whilst the Newberry Typographical Library of Chicago purchased Printing in School, Ceramics and Rules & Style.

Finally, those in charge of the school also took notice and, in 1959, the first purpose-built art block, two stories high with large picture windows, opened. 

The same year, Victoriana was published. On the face of it, a scrapbook of Victorian advertisements, type, printer's flowers and wood engravings, the arrangement and accompanying text imbued it with a witty modernity. The original print run of 300 soon sold out and two further editions were produced: these were no mere reprints, they were bigger than the first iteration in both scale and content. They too sold out, with requests for copies coming from Canada, Germany and the USA.

As the number of printing presses at the school increased, the books became more ambitious. The final four were all on a larger scale. Holloway wrote an introductory text to the last book, Smash and Grab, dated October 1969:

‘The design of the book has been contrived and constructed to utilize the three disproportionate sizes of machines used by the Art Society Press. If all the machines can be used then all members of the Press can make their contribution to the production. It follows that the design should have long things to print (see Long Leggedy Beasties) and upright shapes to print, (see trees in Landscape Journey) and small things to print as in this book, not to mention text and shop signs. … Now the design has evolved, all machines can be used, everybody employed, marvellous problems can be overcome in working it all out. Once again, our artist members thrashed out the design and made the blocks, as in Landscape Journey, and again a group of members fused themselves together to produce this book over such a long period. And this book has been more difficult than the preceding books. I feel the vein is exhausted, and no more books like this quartet will follow. They are: Long Leggedy Beasties, Noah, Landscape Journey, Smash & Grab. All different from each other to work out, and all made by the artist, author, printer, compositor, with enormous pleasure.’

I first discovered the books of the Art Society Press when rummaging through some boxes, shortly after starting at King’s. I was immediately enchanted. It is hard to believe that, next year, it will be 75 years since the ASP was founded. As a first step towards celebrating the work of the press, I decided to hold a reunion for those who had been involved or who remembered Bob Holloway. I was bowled over by the response, so many people took the time to send me their memories. At the reunion itself, 26 former pupils gathered to remember. I found it incredibly moving as well as informative. All were united in their praise of Robert Holloway. The words of one alumnus sums up the feelings of many:

‘Bob Holloway knew how to get the best out of all of us. He encouraged, he cajoled, he advised, he explained, he demonstrated, he listened to ideas: he never shouted, at least that I remember. He was an educator as well as a teacher; there was a pervading atmosphere of calm in the place, aided by the coffee and Digestives available, by subscription, to us regulars and, occasionally, by invitation, to “outsiders”. As our time in the ASP went on, Bob gave us responsibility, genuine responsibility, for the outcomes of our work. To begin with it might have been a particular page or two within one of the books but it became more than that.’

To be given a sense of ownership over one’s work mattered. When Long Leggedy Beasties was selected to be included in an exhibition of the National Book League, the pupils were justifiably proud.

Robert Holloway retired in 1975. A decade or so later the presses and equipment belonging to the ASP were disposed of. Thanks to the Friends of King’s, we now have a refurbished platen press at the school so that current pupils can learn how to set type. I hope that they will look to the work of the Art Society Press for inspiration for, as Robert Holloway once said: 'To create a new book depends on the past as much as the present, and future books will in turn owe much to the present tradition.’

Which teachers or activities at King’s had special significance for you? As ever, please do email if you have stories to share or questions about the school archive: I can be contacted at archive@kcs.org.uk. 

Dr Lucy Inglis | School Archivist