Davos

At first glance, it’s a charming Davos poster—after all, who doesn’t think Bambi is cute? At second glance, however, it’s, well… “shoddy work” sums it up pretty well. It’s also one that poses a few mysteries regarding its date: The year of printing is always listed as either 1935 or 1953. This is an unusually large discrepancy, which suggests that the cause was a simple typo from a bygone era that was then picked up and spread by others.

1935 is a more likely date, but it’s probably not correct either, since Leo Keck—who was responsible for the artwork and likely also the design—didn’t start working as the in-house graphic designer at the Fretz Brothers’ printing company until late 1937. Prior to that, he held the same position at the Zurich-based competitor Wolfensberger, which likely rules out the possibility that the sheet was printed before 1938.

On the other hand, here’s what would suggest it was produced after World War II: It is undoubtedly an offset print. Although the Fretz brothers had already purchased an offset press in 1921, it was used exclusively for small-format work for decades—as was customary in Switzerland and in contrast to developments in Germany, Italy, or the U.S. In this country, posters based on photographs were produced—at least until well into the 1940s—occasionally as lithographs, but mostly using gravure printing. Offset printing was not used in these cases until around 1950. So was it printed in 1953 after all?

Almost certainly not, since the poster is based on a composite image by Emil Meerkämper. This fits into the second half of the 1930s in that the first posters designed by Walter Herdeg and, in particular, Herbert Matter—using one or even several edited photographs—began to appear in Switzerland at that time —a new approach in this country that seemed exceptionally fresh and modern, caused quite a stir, and thus sparked interest among other advertisers.

That doesn’t rule out a creation date after 1950, but (and here we’re back to taking a second look): With this Davos poster, the creators overestimated their abilities—or, rather, grossly underestimated the difficulties of photomontage in terms of focus, perspective, and attention to detail—to such an extent that it must be a clumsy work from the early days of this style. The fawn, for example, seems to float above the flower meadow like a foreign object. Or take the single, towering hogweed: its proportions are off, both in relation to the little flowers in the foreground and to the fawn. This leads to the assumption that Keck supplemented Emil Meerkämpfer’s photograph of the landscape with the farmhouse on Gemsberg (left) with a not particularly carefully selected image of a blooming summer meadow (right), before squeezing in a photo of a fawn as well to catch the viewer’s eye.

All in all, it seems likely that Leo Keck—or rather, the printing company—took a chance here in the late 1930s to gain experience: an experiment with photomontage as well as with offset printing. It was an endeavor that went completely awry, both in terms of the montage itself and, above all, because of the challenge of making it unrecognizable as such. Why the officials at the Davos Tourist Office decided to have the design produced anyway remains their secret.

Incidentally, Emil Meerkämper—who, as a young engineer from the Ruhr region, settled in Davos in 1900 after a stay there for health reasons and went on to become one of the pioneers of Swiss landscape photography—died in 1948. Now, in principle, it would of course be possible that one of his old photos was used after his death; however, since the photograph in question is not a famous masterpiece, there would undoubtedly have been plenty of alternatives available. And no one would have had to deal with any legal issues either.

So what? Is the world a better place now? Probably not. But anyone who likes original posters or has an interest in economic history and the advertising industry might appreciate this kind of insight into the background and the conditions under which commercial art was created. That doesn’t mean, however, that these remarks have made it any easier to find a buyer for this poster. So, in conclusion: All the guesswork and speculation don’t change the fact that this is a very, very charming piece—ideal for a child’s room, for example.

You might also find this interesting—another cute original poster:
Gstaad