In his day he drew all the greats.

Greta Garbo, Douglas Fairbanks, Buster Keaton, Jessie Matthews and Gracie Fields. Now, three years before his centenary, the work of Arbroath artist Robert Stewart Sherriffs is being celebrated again in London's Cartoon Museum.

An exhibition of Sherriffs's 1930s illustrations opens this week and runs until Christmas Eve. It is drawn from more than 900 works by the artist, left to the museum by Sherriffs' late daughter Alexandra.

The museum's director Anita O'Brien sees the exhibition as a great opportunity to rediscover one of Britain's great 20th-century illustrators. "We've had a number of the artworks on display over a period of time and people have always been amazed by the style and the elegance of the drawings," she said.

The exhibition - which focuses exclusively on his work from the 1930s - offers a chance for a re-evaluation of his talent.

"His work has got this beautiful movement and beautiful sort of flow to it," O'Brien added. "Also, we can't figure out how he did this amazing texturing."

Sherriffs was born in Arbroath in February 1906. He studied at Edinburgh College of Art before arriving in London in 1927 where he quickly picked up work from magazines such as The Bystander and The Sketch.

He also worked for the Radio Times and in 1935 he began to illustrate the then magazine's prominent feature Both Sides of the Microphone.

The 30s were a very buoyant time for illustrators and cartoonists because there were so many magazines offering work and Sherriffs's work was much in demand.

"I'm not saying his art was incredibly deep," O'Brien said. "I think that's to miss the point. There's just a great sense of style about it and glamour."

During the war Sherriffs initially joined the Tank Regiment but later worked as a war artist. After the war he became the film caricaturist at Punch, a role he continued in until his death in December 1960.

Sherriffs's work has been collected by the National Portrait Gallery in the past but this is a rare chance to see a sizeable body of his work.

And if you look closely at his portrait of Garbo, you can even see his wife's toes.

"Alexandra said 'those were my mother's toes'," O'Brien recalls. "I guess her mother must have posed for that picture." Presumably Garbo wasn't available.