“I’m looking at myself in pictures”
“I’m looking at myself in pictures”: The Female Gaze in The Artificial Silk Girl (1932)
Alex Rana
Abstract
This paper looks at Irmgard Keun’s novel The Artificial Silk Girl (1932), and argues that the narrative mode of the novel is a cinematic “female gaze” characteristic to the Weimar Republic’s “New Woman.” The novel’s protagonist Doris, an aspiring actress and avid cinema-goer, tells her story and narrates her inner world through this gaze, offering an intimate and emotional portrayal of life as a young woman in Weimar-era Berlin that counters patriarchal ways of seeing.
Introduction
Doris, the young protagonist of Irmgard Keun’s novel The Artificial Silk Girl (1932), offers a glimpse into the experiences, wishes, and struggles of the journey from adolescence to adulthood against the backdrop of the Weimar Republic. As she moves physically, going from residing with her parents in an apartment “in presumably the town of Cologne” (Keun xii) to the cultural hub of Berlin, Doris faces many financial challenges and unfulfilled romantic relationships. She also changes in other ways, becoming less enthusiastic and optimistic about her career prospects and the type of future she envisions. As a result, Doris gains a perspective that would appear cynical if not for the reality of her situation, culminating in a much less dazzling fate than the one she originally imagined. In her encounters with men, Doris becomes further disillusioned after many of her relationships become transactional, with the men using her temporarily to help meet their own needs. These interactions lead her to give up hope of finding love in the resignation to settle down with someone for practical purposes rather than romantic feelings. While living in Berlin, Doris expresses herself outwardly with the goal of being perceived as a “New Woman,” although her attempts to attain that lifestyle are met with hardship as she struggles in search of love and financial stability throughout her time in Berlin. Growing to rely more on herself, she takes on a director role, instead of her original spectator positioning, when it comes to viewing her own life as a cinematic experience. By engaging with critical perspectives that explore the “New Woman” character type and taking into account the sociopolitical background of Weimar Germany, I examine how Doris uses the female gaze to tell her story and express her emotions, culminating in a unique portrayal of life as a young woman coming of age in Berlin.
Critical Perspectives
Rich with imagery that conveys multiple aspects of the narrator's life, The Artificial Silk Girl adds an important, although fictional, account of living during the Weimar Republic and navigating the culture of Berlin. Embodying the “New Woman” character popularized at the time, Doris’ perspective allows for an exploration of the differences between storytelling through a female gaze instead of the typical male gaze and how it is represented in literature rather than film. Ute Frevert’s chapter “The Weimar Republic” from her study Women in German History outlines the shifting gender roles and cultural makeup of the period. During this time, the feminist movement had organized, although on the basis of recognizing the differences between the sexes in manner, and “the Weimar Constitution recognized sexual equality as a basic right” (Frevert 170). While this law did not go so far as to encourage entirely equal expectations and responsibilities of men and women, it allowed women to be more independent and for “the free development of the female character” (Frevert 170). However, amidst political advances of the Social Democrats in unions, healthcare, and housing, employment and the economy began to decline, especially towards the end of the 1920s. Doris faces the impacts of these real-world challenges in the story, too, in her constant struggle to survive and have a place to live without being able to work after she runs away to Berlin. Frevert also describes the “New Woman” type of identity in the chapter, stating that she is “an interesting combination of tradition and modernity, of progress and reaction” (176). These traits are reflected in Doris as she desires a modern, sleek lifestyle similar to the glamour portrayed in the media but retains many of her values that she learned before she moved to Berlin and finds solace in the idea of a simple farm life at the end of the novel.
Leo Lensing elaborates on the portrayal of the “New Woman” in his article detailing the impact of cinema during the Weimar Republic and how Keun reflects that through the story and characterization of Doris. Doris' “compulsion to recast her life as cinematic fantasy” (Lensing 129) is shaped by her consumption of film and her subsequent desire to emulate the on-screen heroines. By associating herself with the women in popular cinema and aligning the exciting future she envisions with that of the allure and romance of the film plotlines, Doris is able to envision an escape from the mundanity that awaits in her daily life. Instead of being forced to work in a shop or office, these films present the opportunity for her to watch the possibilities of her future unfold, as long as she follows the same path as the characters by becoming a famous actress or marrying into wealth. Her inspiration from the cinema is made clear in lines such as “perhaps I'll get written up in the papers tomorrow in a review” (Keun 46). After successfully performing her role in a small play, Doris speculates on all of the doors that will open up for her acting career now. During this revelry, the young woman almost willingly ignores the actual scale of her production's reach and claims that she is now “famous and a star” (Keun 46). In this scene, Lensing's idea that “the sensual perception and memory of films provide an otherwise unattainable psychic release” (132) carries over from offering an escape from uncertainty and allows Doris' thoughts to match her overwhelming emotions, even in a positive state. Doris' experience watching Leontine Sagan’s Mädchen in Uniform is also discussed, and the fact that the film sways her previous view on lesbian attraction from something she rebukes to a type of love that she feels an understanding toward. Still, as Lensing remarks, she “remains tangled in her hopes for a conventional, and inevitably repressive, relationship” (133), failing to take away the other themes in the film of standing up to authority and patriarchal ideas.
In Sharon Boak's article, “The Perceptions of Women in Weimar Germany”, the author details how The Artificial Silk Girl diverges from “the idea of the ‘New Woman’” (29). Boak discusses some of the attributes of the “New Woman” and how it “came to symbolize 'both Weimar's modernity and its endemic crisis” (Boak 27). She argues that Doris' social position prevents her from truly being independent of men, and the character's reliance upon traditional roles as a necessity of survival in Berlin contrasts with the liberated state represented by the “New Woman”. Although claiming that “Doris's experience of being objectified is therefore to an extent self-inflicted,” Boak also states that her “judgement of peoples' characters and her unwillingness to be duped in this way contradicts the stereotypes of a lower-class woman” (32). While it can easily be argued that Doris intentionally presents herself in a way that mirrors the “New Woman” stereotype she sees on screen, especially to attract attention and in hopes of finding fame, her objectification would likely occur regardless, and by using her appearance for her own gain, she is able to benefit from her encounters with men. Highlighting the fact that Doris “actually follows her own desires”, Boak claims that her actions “contrasts with the stereotypical ruthless nature of the ‘New Woman’” (33). Alternately, it is also possible that Doris' self-direction and willingness to pursue what she wants bolsters some of her characteristics of a “New Woman”, as shown in her independence, desire for aspects of both modern and traditional life and embracing of her sexuality. Boak's arguments that Doris diverges from the stereotypical “New Woman” ideal in regard to her class and behaviour in some cases are certainly understandable, but that does not entirely separate her from the concept, as it is a classification that does not have an absolute, rigid, definition, and it is evident in the text that Doris is significantly influenced by the desire to be seen as one.
The Female Gaze
Keun employs a racing, restless, and rich narration that follows Doris in her journey from a smaller German city to the vibrant rush of Berlin, presented at different times as a place both wondrous and dismal. Doris’ descriptions of herself and her surroundings sometimes appear disjointed, as if the reader is getting a glimpse of the jumble of thoughts that spin through her mind. The fleeting, almost instinctual connections she makes between the sights she sees and her knowledge about the city, human behaviour, men’s intentions, and how she is perceived are presented as a highly visualized account of the young woman’s life. This unique perspective makes Doris and her activities seem wholly tangible, creating the sense that the reader, too, is immersed in the sensations and emotions that detail each of her encounters. At one point in the novel, Doris takes her neighbour, a blind veteran, out for a walk the night before his wife sends him away to a care home. She goes from scene to scene with him by inserting what seems like stage directions in the repetition of lines like “let’s move on” (Keun 98) when exiting one setting that she is no longer interested in and entering a new one. It is here, when guiding them through sectors of the city’s nightlife that Doris’ gaze transitions from merely an instrument in which to view the world around her to stepping into the more powerful role of a director, making decisions about what she wants to have reflected and scripting dialogue to craft the image of what is happening around them. Embracing the director role further, Doris describes a glimpse of Berlin at night to her companion, saying, “‘Yes, there are stars,’ I lie and I give them to him” (Keun 99). Here, she fabricates a scenario that meets the vision she wants to present, a technique that can also be used to shape her personal life. Although initially, their relationship held a sense of mutual attraction despite the older man being already married, the scene of their travels around the city allows for more realization about Doris’ sense of self to come forth than merely offering a romantic montage.
This scene is a clear example of how Doris uses the “female gaze” to make sense of her physical placement within the time period and location, finding freedom and self-expression in introducing someone else to all that the city has to offer and claiming Berlin as her own backdrop. She is also able to express her sense of identity as a young woman in her late teens struggling to follow her dreams but getting beat down by the barriers she faces and beginning to face the reality of adult life. Further, the distinctions between the role men and women are expected to play within society in the early 1920s come to light under Doris’ female gaze, particularly when compared to the absence of a gaze at all from the blind man or the descriptions at other points in the text of Doris emulating the “male gaze”. The first use of these terms in relation to analyzing film arose in the 1970s, with Laura Mulvey’s feminist lens applied to film theory, stating that “cinema reproduced ways of seeing that existed within patriarchy” (Sikov 178). Using film as an avenue that responds “to the needs and desires of the male unconscious” (Sikov 179), the male gaze is reproduced and presented to the audience, normalizing that way of viewing the world, and more specifically, women. In contrast to this, the humanity that Doris seeks out and the stories she weaves around everyone she encounters provide a female gaze that is deeply connected to others and balances optimism with reality. When Doris says, “I’m dreaming with my eyes open” (Keun 103), the reader sees how her female “lens is so intimate” (Dirse 25), as it connects them directly with her. Dirse explains the influence of this gaze on setting the emotional tone of the piece, stating that her “own feelings of sadness are transmitted through the camera lens” (25). This imparting of the narrator’s thoughts and feelings upon the viewer is also very present in Doris’ narrative, as she shares her self-perception: “I see myself - mirrored in windows and when I do, I like the way I look” (Keun 88). Her appearance and that of others discussed throughout the novel is absent of the objectifying male gaze, which would prevent her from ever “really get[ting] a true opinion on [her] body” (Keun 84). Using Doris’ female gaze and allowing her to hold the simultaneous roles of lens and director, Keun vividly conveys what life was like for a young woman trying to survive and pursue her dreams in Berlin.
Doris as the “New Woman”
As mentioned in discussing the critical perspectives, Doris serves as an example of the “New Woman” typification presented in literature. She embodies these traits not only in her personality but also in the image that she crafts her outward appearance to be. Describing herself as looking “like Colleen Moore, if she had a perm and her nose were a little more fashionable” (Keun 3), Doris begins her tale with assurances that she is indeed “a trendy girl” (3), in line with what was fashionable and on-screen during the time of the Weimar Republic. Compounding this presentation is the fur coat that Doris carries along on her journey, stealing it from a woman watching her play at the novel's beginning and keeping it close to her, sometimes acting as her sole companion for the rest of her time in Berlin. Once she has entered into a solid relationship with a man, she finally feels ready to return the coat. However, she still emphasizes its importance, saying, “I would never love another coat the same way I loved this one” (Keun 172). By agreeing to send it back only once she finds another person to be close with, she cements the coat's role in her life. For Doris, the fur coat is not just a fashionable accessory or a reminder of her acting aspirations but is also a form of comfort and a sense of security as she embarks on her new life alone in a huge city.
Later, as Doris is faced with impending poverty, homelessness, and solitude, she begins to let go of the pride and care she once put into her image. After Hubert invites her to his apartment, she takes in her reflection in the elevator mirrors, noting that she is “never elegant enough” but “almost didn't care anymore” (Keun 135), a stark contrast to the initial value she placed on looking desirable. Her persona as a “New Woman” is subverted when the narrator criticizes herself, self-deprecatingly chiding that “something like this wants to be a star” (Keun 138). At the conclusion of the story, although she has pursued a life of passion and freedom, Doris begins to think that she will need to settle down with the blue-collar man, Karl, and live a more traditional life assisting him with his work. Her “sensuality is in prison” (Keun 191), and she feels she can no longer be with the type of men she once wanted or become famous. Met with continuous disappointment in her pursuit of stardom and struggling due to a lack of resources, Doris is forced to shift her outlook and focus on stability, claiming at the end that “glamour isn’t all that important after all” (Keun 192). While her time in Berlin causes Doris to lose some of her aspirations and experience the difficulties of maintaining independence, her values have changed in way that allows her to grow, and, even while disenchanted, she refuses to give up entirely.
Conclusion
Irmgard Keun's story of Doris's daily activities and unfiltered thoughts results in a novel that reads much like a script and autobiographical account of her life, despite the protagonist's disdain for creating a diary. Doris' goal of wanting “to write like a movie” (Keun 3) is carried out through the entire book, from the shifting scenes that she cuts away from and the complex descriptions of the settings and characters, even those that only appear for a second. Influenced by the novel's backdrop of the Weimar Republic and the city at the centre of it, Berlin, Doris expresses traits of the “New Woman” through her appearance and desires. However, she subverts this characterization when she begins to see herself outside of that frame, yearns for other qualities, and considers different possibilities for her future. The view that Doris offers of her surroundings is further developed through her female lens, informed by her social status and the gender roles of women during the Weimar period. In this “female gaze”, situated within the culture of the time, Doris goes from merely providing a lens to becoming the director, allowing her to shape her current self and carve out her future.
Works Cited
Boak, Sharon. “The Perceptions of Women in Weimar Germany: A Reading of Erich Kästner’s Fabian-The Story of a Moralist, Hans Fallada’s Little Man-What Now, and Irmgard Keun’s The Artificial Silk Girl.” Slovo, vol. 23, no. 1, 2011, pp. 26–47.
Dirse, Zoe. “Gender in Cinematography: Female Gaze (Eye) Behind the Camera.” Journal of Research in Gender Studies, vol. 3, no. 1, 2013, pp. 15–29.
Frevert, Ute. “The Weimar Republic.” Women in German History: From Bourgeois Emancipation to Sexual Liberation. Translated by Stuart McKinnon-Evans, pp. 168–204.
Keun, Irmgard. The Artificial Silk Girl. Translated By Kathie von Ankum, Other Press, 2011. ISBN: 978-1590514542
Lensing, Leo A. “Cinema, Society, and Literature in Irmgard Keun's Das Kunstseidene Mädchen.” The Germanic Review, vol. 60, no. 4, 1985, pp. 129–134.
Sikov, Ed. Film Studies: An Introduction. Colombia University Press, 2020.
Alex Rana is an undergraduate student at the University of Manitoba.
Picture: “Berlin Union-Theater Alexanderplatz 1909” by Zander & Labisch, Photogr. Source: Wikimedia Commons. Public Domain.
