Critical
Essay – Single-Image Analysis
PHVP
3409
Experimental
and Analytical Production with a Major Project
Hannah
Thorpe
P0925888X
07/01/2014
Hannah
Höch
Dompteuse, 1930
During
Weimar Republic (1918-1933), two key developments were made in the wider
context of industry, rationalism and consumerism: rapid growth in the mass
print media and a dramatic redefinition of the social roles of women.
In
1920’s Germany, the transition women made from typical young woman to this New
Woman was not smooth; as history shows, social revolution tends not to be. Yet,
it is with this new mass media, emotional and political aftermath from World
War I, that sprouted Berlin Dada. It is here Hannah Höch stands, sandwiched
between two revolutions, as a female in a Dadaists’ world.
In
1925, Lotte am Scheidewege (see Fig.
1) was published, drawn by Karl Arnold, in an issue of German journal Simplicissimus. The joke is that this
modern female, donned in male clothing with feminine touches, does not know
whether she is male or female - perhaps a new gender altogether. Women’s rights
were on the change, being given the right to vote in 1918, given increased
presence in the working world (albeit low-paid positions). Newspapers,
magazines and films all flaunted this new role for women, but soon distorted
and contradicted by these forms of media. Messages of female empowerment were
mixed with others of dependence and documents are easily found to show triumph
of ascension to power, although problematic, in a male-lead world. One example
is the March 9, 1919 cover of BIZ
(see Fig. 2), a photograph of two female members of the National Assembly.
Their position is of authority yet their wardrobe is masculine and they appear
insecure in this attire, standing hunched and nervous. This photograph holds a
contradiction of messages with newly empowered women, demonstrating authority
and timidity.
To
gain advantage to achieve better understanding to the photomontages of Hannah
Hoch, understanding the conventions in which they were made is key. Dada rose
in 1916, arising as a literal and visual reaction to the horrors of World War I
and that modern European society allowed it to ever have happened. Beginning in
neutral Zurich, it soon spread to Berlin, becoming ‘Berlin-Dada’, banding
together as a group of writers and artists using any public forum they could
find to, metaphorically, spit on nationalism, rationalism and materialism. To
find a closer context to their birth, Hans Richter compared Zurich Dada in
“placid Switzerland”, to the hectic situation in Berlin, presenting symptoms of
neurosis. The reasons were complex, yet understandable due to the various
appalling effects from warfare: senseless slaughter, many friends dying on each
side, the inconclusiveness of revolution being fought at that very moment, the
long suppression of spirit, the successful and tempting precedent that was set
by Zurich Dada, and finally the sudden vacuum created by the abrupt arrival of
freedom from the war, where endless possibilities seemed realistic if one were
to just try to reach them. Richter states:
“The
whole atmosphere was hysterical, convulsive and unreal; artistic expression
could hardly have taken any other form.”1
Today
we label Dada as an art form, perhaps movement, in itself. Yet the Dadaists of
early twentieth century convulsed at the notion of calling what they do ‘art’. What
they would call anti-art (or non-art) was a form in which they could find a new
way of self-expression.
“The
Dadaists, who had ‘invented’ static, simultaneous and phonetic poetry, applied
the same principles to visual representation. They were the first to use
photography to create, from totally disparate spatial and material elements, a
new unity in which was revealed a visually and conceptually new revolution. “2
Contrary
to traditional forms of visual expression, the Dadaists saw themselves as
engineers and photomontage came to surface as their ruse. The typical aesthetic
of a Dada photomontage would be described as a simultaneous juxtaposition of
different points of view and angles of perspective, Hausmann coined it “a kind
of motionless moving picture.”3 One could point out the irony in
calling art ‘anti-art’, still being a form of expression - a manifestation of
visual thought or belief; yet to counter this, Raoul Hausmann wrote:
“This
term translates our aversion at playing the artist, and, thinking of ourselves
as engineers (hence our preference for workmen’s overalls) we meant to
construct, to assemble our works.”4
In
1964, Richter called that “while Hausmann proclaimed the doctrine of anti-art,
she [Hannah Höch] spoke up for art”5. Höch was
on of the first Dadaist practitioners to use the infamous photomontage
technique and although a member of the Berlin Dada group, Höch never
truly embraced the “anti-art” position. She also took little part in the active
polemic and ‘performance’ of Dada, not feeling comfortable participating in the
practice of radical public spectacle. She was often marginalised within the
group and did not receive the recognition her male peers enjoyed.
Höch’s
greatest contribution to the Dada non-movement was her cutting-edge development
of the photomontage technique. She, alongside Hausmann, is often credited for
inventing the practice, although it was Sally Stein who pointed out that
photomontage was a common tool in advertising since the nineteenth century6.
It was in 1918 when Höch and Hausmann began to make photomontages, Höch
saying the inspiration came from the montages on postcards coming from
soldiers.
Höch’s
handiwork was born from her earlier years. Born in 1889, Gotha, Germany, she
grew up in a comfortable bourgeois small-town society. Previously being
withheld from her studies for six years, she later continued in 1912 studying
glass design at the School of Applied Arts, Berlin-Charlottenburg. However with
the sudden eruption of war in 1914, her contented view on the world shattered –
placing her with a newfound political consciousness. It wasn’t until 1915 she
was able to continue her studies in Berlin, this time enrolling in graphic
arts. This background led her to her ten-year position, working part time at
the Ullstein Verlag7, employed in the handicraft department
designing garment patterns for magazine and booklets. It is easy to see the
link between her artworks and her place of work, for she often incorporated
lace and handiwork patterns into her montages – combining the traditional
woman’s craft with this new modern mass culture.
Höch’s
own work, to a large degree, did not simply reflect her autobiographical
experiences; rather they formed around the social and political issues that
surrounded her. These new issues of sexuality, morality and politics
confronting the image of the New Woman became the epicenter of her work and they
showed her to be an avid observer of women’s roles and stereotypes in mass
culture. Her links with Dada society, however, came directly from her
relationship with Raoul Hausmann, meeting in 1915. Their seven-year
relationship was publicly acknowledged, despite Hausmann being married with a
daughter. Yet although intense and passionate, the relationship was full of
friction defining their views and identity within the new concepts of gender
and psychology.
It
was the views on feminism in which their views were akin. However, Hausmann was
more of an outspoken feminist - a view stirringly diverse for a man of his day
and age. He objected to the conformations of women, proclaiming their needs for
freedom over their own minds and bodies and he massively protested against the existing
beliefs that women who did not submit to masculine authority were ‘floozies’ or
‘whores’. But considering his treatment of Höch, ignoring her requests
for a monogamous relationship. But not wanting to give up the good situation of
a wife and child, he rather accused Höch of being conventional – against her
usual style – and unable to pull herself above the male way of thinking. He
felt if she were a true liberated woman, she would tolerate their polygamous
relationship. Upon this, we surely must ask ourselves how much of his feminist
views he held were purely theoretical? So to the topic of feminism and their
relationship, she wanted him to attend to her feelings and emotional needs while
he preferred her to take a larger activist role.
Hausmann
and Höch had very different approaches to Dada through
photomontage. Hausmann would put his revolutionary thought first, his work
being first and foremost an attack on social and bourgeois tendencies. Together
the pair collaborated on at least one occasion with Dada-Cordial, 1919 (see Fig. 3), and it is here we can indefinitely
see the differences in style. On the left of the, Hausmann’s combination of
text and imagery are confrontational and hostile. The male figures are bluntly
juxtaposed with obvious phallicy to show the masculine patriarch marching
toward bold progression, while the texts are cut from a Dada manifesto to
emphasise political agitation. On the right side, Höch’s texts perform a
gentler act via an anonymous poem, persuading by subtle seduction; subtlety
that is continued by the combination of mechanic and organic imagery. The
imagery plays as a metaphor undermining the bourgeois in a playful style – a
car is rendered useless, turned on its side yet the wheels still spinning. It
becomes apparent she gains gratification in the process of montage, paying
close attention to the aspects of layering, juxtaposition and poetic
combination. It is as in much of her work that she uses poetry, metaphors and
humor to carry her critique on social standards. To compare, Hausmann’s aggressive
and blunt approach calls for much less interpretation and analysis.
What
emerges is that Hausmann and Höch’s approach to the montage technique
are contrary to one another. While Hausmann (among the majority of the Berlin
Dada group) saw it as a means to a political outcry, Höch saw the revolution as an
outlet for her art. Hausmann, on many occasions throughout their relationship,
tried to persuade Höch to believe in the power of Dada activism and agitation,
thus creating further friction inside their relationship. And while Höch did
not strictly oppose activism, she remained skeptical on its effectiveness to
transform society.
It
was until late Weimar times that Höch’s sexual identity changed. She had
long left Raoul Hausmann in 1922, by 1926 she had begun a lesbian relationship
with Til Brugman, a Dutch writer. It’s not clear whether Höch
identified herself as lesbian or bisexual, but it is with this new relationship
that exposed her to gender issues more closely. This did not take direct effect
on her work depicting issues on the New Woman, although her work seemed to
illustrate positivity and pleasure between movements in masculine and feminine
identities. And it is this androgynous representation of gender that was
central to Höch’s late Weimar work.
Perhaps
her most ambiguous and sophisticated image of androgyny is Dompteuse (Tamer), 1930 (see Fig. 4). We are instantly met with the
central figure, sculpting a female head yet a masculine and muscular body,
sporting hairy arms and a flat torso. The viewer is hit with immediate
confusion and an impossibility of reading a singular gender. A particularly
pronounced example of this is shown in Höch’s earlier works, such as
Roma, 1925 (see Fig. 5), where she
mocks gender specification by giving male heads female bodies.
Another
immediate significance we see is that the segments of pictures come from a
variety of photographic types; combining sepia tones, black and white, and
colour imagery. Thus the viewer is fully aware that these are segments. The
constructive nature of the figure is evident, which further prevents this form
being seen as natural. We next read the position of the central figure, with
its arms crossed and presumably looking down at the sea lion, suggesting
instant domination, and it is somewhat beautiful. Looking closely, its face
appears fairly passive, however. Whereas the sea lion looks outward, engaging
with the viewer with a sly gaze. The obvious contrast of scale between the two
figures now creates a sense of apprehension.
Looking
closer, back and forth between the two figures, it becomes unclear as to which
figure – or possibly, which gender – may hold dominance. The faces contradict
each other with double meaning; a passive pale face on a masculine body of huge
scale, next to the darker, smaller head of the sea lion with its make-up
coated, uncanny gaze. With these differences, the shape of the eyes are
particularly similar, establishing some form of unity between the two.
In
Maud Lavin’s writings about Höch’s ‘genderless’ images, he adds:
“Through
juxtaposition and denial of closure, Höch’s representation of androgyny
encourages the mechanisms of the fetishizing gaze to shift between masculine
and feminine objects. …It institutes an oscillation between polarized positions
of masculinity and femininity, establishes a bisexual relationship to the
object of desire, and shifts between disavowal and recognition of that
bisexuality.”8
Höch’s
tradition of approaching issues of the New Woman shine through, questioning the
material makeup and separation between genders.
She
ironically uses images from Weimar mass media, where androgyny had been
isolated to fashion, to transform them as women taking on the attributes of
men.
There
is a constant circling paradox within Höch’s androgynous images.
Another equally complex image is Höch’s later piece, Die Starken Manner, 1931 (see Fig. 6). This composite fuses the two
genders together in one single form, posing gender confusion and therefore further
posing the question of, as Maud Lavin wrote, “…whether one is viewing
representation of self of other”9.
Inquiries
into the representation of women and female social identities have
reconstructed our understanding of modern society, during the twentieth century
and continuing on into the twenty-first century still. Hannah Höch’s
placement was that in a place of disarray and revolution. A time where she was
allowed to express herself as she pleased, yet was still, at times, not taken
seriously for doing so - whether it was for what she stood for or simply for
her gender.
Although
her work was, at the time, specific to early twentieth century Germany, the
same cannot wholly be said of the issues she approached. The constructs of
power, economics and subjectivity still stand today, people still fight for
equality and will for years to come – the constant fight between power and
equality remains attached to the society of ‘man’.
While
her famous montage work was born in Dadaism, it was her work that outlived the
‘non’ movement. For although she stood for modern society and expressed her
views through constructing images as the Dadaists did, Höch’s
passion wasn’t for the blunt sake of rebellion and uprise, it was for her own
expression for what the Dada dispute was for from the start.
Dompteuse is a fine example of a true Höch
piece, through to her traditional style, what she stood for and how she was. She
was a true believer in revolution, yet remained on the margins, skeptical and
moderate, avoiding conformation in many constructs but done in a poetic manner.
A word to possibly describe her could be ‘modern’. A modern woman compared to,
perhaps, even our times.
What
is striking about Dompteuse, is its
ambiguous and paradox form. Its multiple meanings confuse yet intrigue the
viewer into thinking thoroughly about a subjects’ own definition – does one
object only hold one meaning? Should it? The beauty of this pieces’ ambiguity
leads to the applicability of these questions to almost any subject at hand. Be
it social tendencies, or other art works.
Notes
1 H.
Richter, Dada: Art and Anti-Art.
2
R. Hausmann, Definition der Foto-Montage.
3 R.
Hausmann, Definition der Foto-Montage.
4 D.
Ades, Photomontage, p. 7.
5 H.
Richter, Dada: Art and Anti-Art.
6 S.
Stein, The Composite Photographic Image.
7 Ullstein Verlag: Founded in 1877 by
Leopold Ullstein at Berlin, was one of the largest publishing companies of
Germany.
8 M.
Lavin, Cut with the kitchen knife: The
Weimar photomontages of Hannah Höch.
9
M. Lavin, Cut with the kitchen knife: The
Weimar photomontages of Hannah Höch.
Bibliography
ADES,
D. (1976) Photomontage. London:
Thames and Hudson.
ADES,
D. (1978) Dada and Surrealism Reviewed.
London: Westerham Press.
BECKETT,
J. et al. (1978) The Twenties in Berlin.
Suffolk: Green and Co.
CHAMETZKY,
P. (2010) Objects as history in
twentieth-century German art. London: University of California Press.
LAVIN,
M. (1993) Cut with the kitchen knife: The
Weimar photomontages of Hannah Höch. London: Yale University
Press.
RICHTER,
H. (1997) Dada: Art and Anti-Art.
London: Thames and Hudson.
