This blog post is written by Dr Amy Matthewson about her experience working on the Beaverbrook Engagement project and exhibition, funded by the Beaverbrook Foundation.

The Vision

It all began with a Call for Proposals from the British Cartoon Archive at the University of Kent. It was for a Visiting Scholar Grant from the Beaverbrook Foundation putting out a call for proposals to do an exhibition based on their cartoons that form part of the British Cartoon Archive’s collection.

Most of the Beaverbrook cartoons are available to view online and as I scrolled through, I was delighted to see that David Low formed a big part of the collection. Low is, arguably, one of the most celebrated political cartoonists of the 20th century and I have always wanted to take a closer look at his work. This grant, if successful, would give me the perfect opportunity to get to know Low, the cartoonist, as well as his work.

I proposed an exhibition exploring the use of humour during the interwar period in Britain. This was a time of uncertainty with a nation only just recovering from the horrors of the First World War, mass unemployment, global economic depression, and the rise of fascism. David Low’s cartoons would form the basis of the study.

The aim was to analyse the role of humour through satirical cartoons during a period of increased social and political tensions. How did Low’s cartoons function as a means of dissipating anxieties while simultaneously lampooning dictators’ and their fascist ideologies?

After waiting (with eager anticipation) for a few weeks, I had an interview and the proposal was a success! I was to spend the next few months researching and organising the exhibition, to be displayed at the Templeman Gallery at the University of Kent.

What is the Story?

Where to begin? I didn’t expect the David Low collection at the British Cartoon Archive to be so extensive and I found myself overwhelmed. Faced with a wealth of cartoons, personal correspondence, and books, the challenge was how to narrow the scope and select materials that will offer a cohesive narrative. What ‘story’ does this exhibition want to tell and how to tell it in a comprehensible way?

The first step was to immerse myself in the collection and I did this with great pleasure (I am a bit of a research geek…ok, a big research geek…). I spent a week going through the collection organising cartoons and correspondence into “Yes, Definitely,” “Maybe” and “No” categories. I didn’t manage to get through everything but felt satisfied with the dent I made in going through as much as I could.

Thankfully, this was not a solo venture. Karen Brayshaw, Special Collections and Archives Manager, and Clair Waller, Digital Archivist, offered valuable curatorial advice with extensive knowledge of their collection. There was also another Visiting Scholar, Dominic Janes, who brought another layer of support and encouragement as he worked through his own exhibition, a fascinating exploration of the LGBTQ+ community through the lens of cartoons. His exhibition was planned to run alongside mine.

Another key pillar to the project was three student interns, Isabel Walford, Freya Francis, and Freja Dixon, recruited through a competitive application process. Their involvement was central to the development and success of the project. And with this incredible team in place, I was well-supported.

When I got home and reviewed the pictures I took as a memory aid, a question kept coming up: What is the story here? Yes, there were many witty cartoons (one of my favourites is Hitler blown up as balloon with the caption, “All Blown up and Nowhere to go”) but I couldn’t simply have an exhibition of randomly compiled cartoons thrown up for viewers to decipher. Or could I?

David Low, All blown up and nowere [sic] to go, Evening Standard, 26 Jun 1933 [DL0741a]

I decided to have a Wall of Resistance as part of the exhibition – a blank wall covered with Low’s cartoons demonstrating his resistance to fascism. But is this enough of a story to tell for the exhibition?

Low… cartoons… fascism… satire… resistance… caricature… blown-up Hitler… so what? Again, the question: What is the story? As I sorted through the cartoons, a story started to fall into place. It’s simple – the cartoons themselves are the story. Far from being merely ‘funny pictures,’ they were sharp criticisms. Severe enough to irritate their satirical targets (Low’s cartoons were eventually banned in Nazi Germany as they annoyed Hitler), powerful enough to communicate complex messages, and effective enough to have editors scrambling to write to Low and ask him to tone things down in order to maintain peace in Europe.

Herein lies the story.

The Cartoon Museum

We planned a trip to Disneyland.

Well, not quite but for those who are enthusiastic about cartoons, the Cartoon Museum in London is as good as Disneyland. Karen arranged our outing to include a private tour led by Hannah Whyte, the Collections Curator, along with a lively discussion with Steve Marchant, the Learning Officer and Comic Art Curator.

However, as often happens, things did not go according to plan. There were severe delays on the train from Canterbury to London and so the student interns were not able to make their way to the museum. The day, however, was not completely lost. Dominic, Karen, Clair, and myself were able to go and we made the best of the situation by taking lots of pictures to share with the interns later.

The day ended the way all really good days end: with coffee and cake and a chance to share our thoughts and ideas. The project was really starting to take shape.

Photos of the Cartoon Museum in London.

Coming Together

The next few weeks were a blur of activity. With the framework of the exhibition in place, we turned our attention to translating our ideas into an engaging and coherent visitor experience. We needed to finalise the narrative boards – the storytelling foundation of the exhibition, as well as select and arrange the cartoons, objects, and supplementary materials in a way that would resonate with our audience.

There was much thought put into the narrative boards. Each board needed to draw out the historical and political contexts without losing the interest of the visitor. The boards needed to provide enough information without being too dense while also conveying complex ideas – the rise of fascism, the power of cartooning, the socio-political function of satire, as well as a reflection on what it is that makes people laugh (or makes people angry).

Panels from the exhibition

Isabel, Freya, and Freja played a crucial role in bringing the exhibition to life; Isabel’s keen eye worked to match images with key themes and narratives on the boards; Freya did research in selecting cartoons, interviews, and music for the listening pod; Freja dove into the archives, selecting books, objects, and other materials of visual interest to add to the exhibition.

Once the material was finalised, we sent everything to Clair for printing. Her technical expertise and familiarity with the Archives were invaluable. Clair meticulously checked every file, making sure everything was ready for installation.

And then… we waited.

Installation and Improvisation

While much of the groundwork had been done before the installation process, the final execution brought a set of challenges. The transition from concept to physical space required flexibility, creative problem-solving, and improvisation. Despite having detailed layouts and measurements, some of the materials did not fit quite where we had imagined, while other areas felt too sparse or too cramped.

There were empty frames waiting to be filled and hung; glass surfaces needed to be cleaned; books were queued for display; objects sat carefully arranged on trolleys; cartoon artwork was laid out across tables. And with every … “oh wouldn’t be great to have this over here…?” and “didn’t I see something that would be the perfect fit…?” there was running back and forth to the archives, deep in the basement (sorry Clair!).

Dominic and I worked closely on the sequencing of exhibits, paying attention to how the narrative would unfold for the visitor. We wanted to make sure our two exhibitions had a connecting thread. We moved shelves in cabinets around allowing for the materials to be better (and more clearly) displayed. Karen and Clair were right there to offer their expertise; Freja, Freya, and Isabel were a constant source of energy and support. They were everywhere: lifting, adjusting, dusting, and arranging and beyond their physical contributions, they offered ideas and suggested reconfigurations to improve the overall feel of the display cases.

Photos of the exhibtion being installed

With the exhibition complete, we then turned our attention on an afternoon workshop that invited two guest speakers: Dr. Harriet Earle, Senior Lecturer at Sheffield Hallam University and David Shenton, cartoonist specialising in queer comics. (details here: https://shorturl.at/fKcgZ)

This installation process was perhaps the best experience during my time with the British Cartoon Archive. While the research is always enjoyable, it tends to be a solitary pursuit whereas the installation process required cooperation and collaboration. This was an excellent example of what an exceptional and supportive group of people can do when working together.

The Story

Born in New Zealand in 1891, Low rose to prominence as an artist in Australia during his twenties and in 1919, he arrived in London to begin his career at The Star, a newspaper aligned with Liberal values. A committed Liberal himself, Low once described democracy, despite its flaws, as offering “the best blend of stability and dignity.” In 1924, media tycoon Lord Beaverbrook, invited Low to join his Conservative newspaper the Evening Standard. Low declined but when, four years later in 1927, Beaverbrook asked him again, Low agreed but with some reluctance. The decision drew sharp criticism and aware of these perceptions, Low insisted on maintaining editorial independence, a stance formalised in a contractual clause that distanced himself from the paper’s Conservative political view.

During the 1930s, Low waged a visual war against the rise of dictators’ and their fascist ideology. So much so, that in 1936, Percy Cudlipp, editor to the Evening Standard wrote to Low suggesting “that for the present [Low] avoid the dictators altogether” as was reluctant “to run what will seem to be a cartoonist’s campaign against the dictators.” About a year later in September 1937, Cudlipp wrote again:

You will see from the news that the state of Europe is extremely tense at the present time. That being so, I don’t want to publish anything in the “Evening Standard” which would add to the tension, or inflame tempers any more than they are already inflamed. There are people whose tempers are inflamed more by a cartoon than by any letterpress. So will you please, when you are planning your cartoons, bear in mind my anxiety on this score?

Did Low know the effects his cartoons were having? In May 1942, Low wrote:

Some American cartoonists draw H. [Hitler] and M. [Mussolini] as monsters of brutality eight feet high with big hairy arms covered with whiskers, hands dropping with blood, etc., I’m sure no one is more pleased at this then H. and M. themselves, for that is just the effect they have always striven, with all the arts of propaganda, to create among people just before they go out to defeat them.

That kind of thing no doubt had the effect of building up the idea that Hitler was too, too, too powerful to resist, and contributed to the beating down of the moral front. Personally, I know that the cartoons of mine that got under their skins most were those which made them look like damned fools…

Letter from Percy Cudlipp, editor to the Evening Standard, to David Low

Both the above citations highlight the power of seemingly simple ‘funny’ pictures. Cudlipp was genuinely concerned about the potential of political cartoons in disrupting the fragile peace in Europe. Low was aware of the effectiveness of his cartoons and took great pains to ensure his art was doing exactly what he intended it to do. And it was. The Nazis eventually banned Low’s cartoons in Germany, a move that only amplified his reputation. Empowered with the knowledge that he was hitting his target where it hurt most, Low continued his relentless visual assault on the dictators and their ideologies. Far from silly pictures, cartoons wield considerable power.

Laughter in the Long Twentieth Century is on display at the Templeman Gallery at the University of Kent – on now until early September 2025.