The wall label gives the date with unusual precision: Paris, June to July 1914. Francis Picabia was working on a canvas over eight feet tall, filling it with pistons, tubing, gears and flesh, while the Austrian archduke was shot in Sarajevo and the ultimatums began moving between capitals. He finished it, or stopped working on it, at roughly the moment Europe committed itself. Within weeks he was in uniform. The painting is called I See Again in Memory My Dear Udnie, and it hangs at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

The Bauhaus had an ambivalent relationship with the poster. Founded by Walter Gropius in Dessau in 1919 with the intention of reconciling fine art and craft production, the school’s core pedagogical commitments — truth to materials, functional form, rejection of ornament — did not map cleanly onto a medium whose entire purpose is affective manipulation. A poster that tells the truth about its own conditions of production is not necessarily a poster that works.

The International Typographic Style, developed primarily in Zurich and Basel in the 1950s, is the most successful design movement of the twentieth century by any measure of influence. It conquered corporate identity, magazine layout, wayfinding systems, and poster design with a thoroughness that would be remarkable even if its formal prescriptions had been arbitrary — which they were not. The Swiss style solved real problems, and its solutions were good enough that they became defaults, and its defaults became invisible, and its invisibility is now so complete that most people cannot see the infrastructure it built.