Ursula, in particular, fits the profile of this vitally important new wave of collector, as almost all that was good about the avant-garde scene in Britain in the 1950s ran through the network of artists, collectors, gallerists and who had arrived in Britain to escape persecution by the Nazis in the previous decades. Europe’s loss was very much our cultural gain. Ursula’s story is, in fact, heartbreakingly typical of the period. She was born in Berlin into a Jewish family with no conception of being anything other than German. However, her family were slowly isolated and disenfranchised by the succession of race laws passed by the Nazis in the mid-1930s.(When asked about her earliest memories of architecture, she recalled living in a flat near to the Berlin Olympic stadium and being aware of the powerful, brooding presence of the structure – but equally recalling that the position of the flat also made it harder for the SA to smash their windows). Ursula’s parents were lucky enough to have the opportunity to leave and so they did, sending her over to England on a ferry in 1938 and yet, like so many families who did manage to get out, they still lost large parts of their extended family to the Holocaust.
Gordon and Ursula met during the War, when they we both students at the Regent Street Polytechnic, then one of the more advanced art and design schools in the country. Their tutor was Peter Moro – another European émigré and one of many bringing Bauhaus principles of art and life to a willing British student body. They married in 1950, during a brief pause in the work on what was to be their breakthrough project: the Sports Pavilion for the Festival of Britain, held the following year. Looking back, the Festival of Britain could be seen as the British government – bankrupt from the War – desperately papering over the cracks, trying to preserve its pre-War hegemony in a rapidly de-colonialising world. And the architectural jamboree built on the south bank of the Thames was (literally) flimsy and jerry-built. But the Festival was also brilliant and innovative and, importantly, beloved by the public, who took it for what it was intended to be: a celebration of hopeful new beginnings, the very opposite of the existential cry that some of the Bowyer’s favourite sculptors were to present to a stunned audience at the Venice Biennale in 1952.
The Festival itself had a strong look – bright colours, lightweight, playful, with plenty of angled go-ahead lettering (at which Ursula was a dab hand) and public murals in a user-friendly Cubist idiom (at which Gordon was adept). And Gordon and Ursula’s ‘Sports Pavilion’ was the Festival personified – bolted together from scaffolding poles and canvas awnings, hovering elegantly above the muddy Thames, it was the epitome of bright and breezy, at once both nostalgic and futuristic.