Part I
Framing East Germany: Marxism, Architecture, and Literature
Introduction
In a 1968 talk, East Germanyâs leading architect, Hermann Henselmann, gave an expansive definition of architecture:
For Henselmann, who by the time of this quotation knew the writings of Marxist theorists Walter Benjamin and Theodor Adorno, and of Modernist architect Walter Gropius, architecture stands in a close dialectical relationship with the human beings who make and use it.2 Architecture is not a bourgeois art that conveys clear meanings through facades. Rather, in Henselmannâs Marxist and Modernist view, architecture bridges base and superstructure and transcends narrow disciplinary boundaries. In so doing, it reclaims its role as a fundamental means for meeting the material and emotional needs of human communities.3 The structures people build for work, play, and housing grow from and shape everyday life as much as language does. Architecture is for Henselmann not a discrete art form, but a built environment inseparable from the daily realities of human existence. Buildings shape and are shaped by the âsubstanceâ of individuals and communities; architecture has an intimate connection to everyday human existence across diverse cultures.
Henselmannâs views on architecture stand in a long tradition among twentieth-century Marxist commentators and Modernist architects.4 Benjamin, who was familiar with the architecture of the Swiss Modernist Le Corbusier and Gropius and with architectural historian Siegfried Giedionâs writings on modern architecture, notes in his Arcades that âarchitecture was the earliest [of the arts] to historically outgrow the concepts of art, or, better said, it could least endure being viewed as âartâ.â5 Accordingly, Benjamin finds in the built environment of Paris the revolutionary communicative potential that Henselmann ascribes to architecture in its nearness to everyday life. For the Modernist architect Richard Neutra, whose career began in Germany in the 1920s, continued in the United States in the 1930s, and culminated with recognition on both sides of the Iron Curtain, the notion of the âbuilt environmentâ superseded traditional definitions of architecture and became the centerpiece of a theory about the use and experience of built space.6 So, for the Marxist Benjamin, the Modernist architect Neutra, and the East German architect Henselmann, buildings are not unchanging projections of architectural intent. Rather, they are characterized by mutual interaction with the human beings who make and use them and by their place in the ever-evolving physical, social, and psychic context in which they stand.
What are the ramifications for novels, plays, and poems that represent the design, construction, and use of built space as part of the fabric of everyday life? To answer this question, Building Socialism analyses built space in the literature of East Germanyâs Scientific Technological Revolution, from 1955 to 1973.7 From Heiner MĂźllerâs production plays of the 1950s to the publication of Brigitte Reimannâs architect-novel, Franziska Linkerhand (1973), the built environment was a defining element in playwrightsâ and novelistsâ structural and linguistic choices and a literary platform for critiquing East Germanyâs modern industrial society in an internationally attuned way. For writers as politically diverse as MĂźller, Helmut Baierl, Erik Neutsch, Karl-Heinz Jakobs, Brigitte Reimann, GĂźnter de Bruyn, Christa Wolf, and GĂźnter Kunert, the representation of buildings, streets, and interiors was never a static backdrop to human agency. Instead, it was imbued with an urgent temporality, for example of social revolution or the history of the working class, that impinged upon the temporality of dramatic action and narrative structure and became implicated in the choice between metaphoric and descriptive language.8
There are three main ways that built space is temporal in the literature treated in this study. First, it gives evidence of the movements of history, particularly of East Germanyâs rush to industrial modernity. The second is that it is not merely a surface to be mined for semantic meanings but also a material object whose value is dependent on the process of its design and production. The third is that it exerts its effects after the moment of production through continual use and reuse by different communities of users. Architecture is for Benjamin, as for Henselmann, something whose production and use are inherent to its status as an object of aesthetic interest. Paul Eggert, in his Securing the Past, defines texts as meeting points of different forms of agency: âThe document, whether handwritten or printed, is the textual site where the agents of textuality meet: author, copyist, editor, typesetter and reader. In the acts of writing, copying or reading, the workâs documentary and textual dimensions dynamically interrelate: they can be seen as a translation or performance of one another.â9 This applies well to architecture. Designers, builders, and users all have a hand in shaping the physical structure of buildings themselves and the way those structures come to be understood as part of everyday life. In his analysis of the use of architecture in Use Matters, Kenny Cupers asks how the âunknowable universe of everyday experienceâ of built space can âtrickle back into the conception and production of architectureâ and insists on the historical specificity of this process.10 The East German novels and plays treated in Building Socialism were conceived in part as Marxist analyses of built space meant to intervene in the perception and production of architectureânecessarily temporal processes.
The temporality of built spaceâits production, use, and place in historyâhas an effect on literary structure because it makes architecture a platform for generating associations with people and places not immediately part of a buildingâs tangible reality. A buildingâs production process and use history depend on but transcend the visual forms of the physical structure. Temporalized built space thus creates gaps between the physical and the mental, between present, future, and past, and between the unfeeling object itself and the troubled flesh and blood of those confronted with it. These gaps, which address the fraught relationship of language and reality, lie at the heart of how the temporality of built space influences the linguistic and structural choices of literature. Building Socialism uncovers such gaps through close analysis of key passages supported by contextual information ranging from letters to archival material. Key passages include ekphrastic descriptions by characters or narrators of building interiors and exteriors; passages that mention specific tastes in or styles of architecture, or specific architects or designers; and textual moments in which making buildings, arranging home interiors, and using the built environment are explored in their sensory and emotional dimensions.
Building Socialism is organized into three parts. The first part, consisting of the Introduction and Chapter 1, lays the theoretical groundwork for the interaction of architecture, literature, and modernity in twentieth-century socialist thought. This includes, in the introduction, the little studied nexus of Marxism and architectural theory and how Hermann Henselmannâs architectural theories brought Marxist and Modernist spatial thought into the GDR. Chapter 1 then treats the role of architecture in Bertolt Brechtâs journals and poetry, the Soviet writer Sergei Tretâiakovâs essays about Germany, Anna Seghersâs pre-war prose, Adornoâs Aesthetic Theory, and Benjaminâs Arcades. Key concepts addressed include ones that recur in subsequent chapters: old neighborhoods as latently revolutionary; Modernist architecture as a static, anti-human imposition; the industrial city as a modern threat to human life; the improvised use of architecture.
The second part of this book, consisting of Chapters 2 and 3, analyses architecture and modernity in socialist theater at the start of the Scientific-Technological Revolution. Chapter 2 deals with Heiner MĂźllerâs production plays Der LohndrĂźcker (The Scab, 1957) and Der Bau (The Construction Site, 1963â4). It does so using MĂźllerâs own dual concept of architecture, drawn from archival material, which saw buildings as both expressions of modern power structures and potential platforms for revolutionary action. Chapter 3 examines the text and staging of Helmut Baierlâs Frau Flinz (1961). Baierl and the production team thought that architectural forms had fixed meanings: some, such as unadorned window frames, projected socialismâs alliance with modernity in East Germany, while others, such as baroque detailing, undermined it. The Flinz teamâs limiting architectural vision is revealed through archival material that shows the influence of Walter Ulbricht himself on set design choices.
Part III, by far the longest part of the book, examines the prose of the 1960s in two chapters. Chapter 4 addresses the representation of domestic space, while Chapter 5 focuses on urban environments. In Chapter 4, domestic space in GĂźnter de Bruynâs Buridans Esel (Buridans Ass, 1968), Christa Wolfâs Nachdenken Ăźber Christa T (Pondering Christa T., 1968), Irmtraud Morgnerâs Haus am Rand der Stadt (1962), and Brigitte Reimannâs Franziska Linkerhand (1964/73) is placed in terms of Alexander Klugeâs theory of the novel of diversity, in which descriptions of home interiors functioned as destabilizing subplots. These writersâ architectural passages function as stand-alone theoretical ruminations that interrupt the forward movement of the action. Chapter 5 treats urban space in literature in connection to the Benjaminian notion of the urban montage and its afterlife in GDR architectural theory. De Bruyn, Reimann, Morgner, Wolf, in her short story âUnter den Lindenâ (1968), and GĂźnter Kunert in his short prose on Berlin, developed increasingly patchwork prose structures to account for the ...