In order to underscore these constraints, Miller juxtaposes the dullness of the Lomans’ “present” existence with the natural world around them (Miller 1). Almost immediately upon returning from work, Willy remarks how he caught himself “looking at scenery” and noticing that “the trees are so thick, and the sun is warm” (Miller 3). The fact that, in admiring the scenery, Willy “forgot” he “was driving” and almost crossed “over the white line” highlights the tension between the boundaries of the material and the natural worlds (Miller 3).
Both spaces are demarcated and distinct, and the act of crossing over (both literally and metaphorically) from one side to the other can be life-threatening and dangerous. In deploying this dichotomy, Miller marks the two spaces as explicitly separate, and in constant conflict with one another, throughout the play. It is interesting to note here that this is an image that we, as the audience, do not ever actually see with our own eyes.
Miller deliberately erases the natural world from the scenic environment to distinguish the two spaces, juxtaposing the synthetic nature of the home and the apartment buildings against the richness of nature. When Willy starts to feel stifled in his home, he raves at Linda about how “they boxed us in here” with “windows and bricks” (Miller 6). He remembers, before the arrival of the apartment buildings, when they owned “two beautiful elm trees” that their children used to swing on (Miller 6).
Their memory of these spaces underscores the essential dichotomy between the past and the present, that guides the play, by comparing the material against the natural. The fact that the beautiful elm trees no longer exist points to the tragedy of their current socioeconomic existence: what was once a beautiful reality now seems like a far-off memory they are striving to reclaim. The imagery of nature becomes a symbol for a better time and life (and the economic comforts it brought with it), and its absence from the scenic environment is a clear indicator of a domestic life in discord.
The absence of natural elements also reveals a home that is slowly being consumed by a capitalist drive. The desire to create efficient and profitable housing around the Loman household has led to a destruction of their natural surroundings. Willy’s desire to preserve their lawn (and, later on, to plant a thriving garden) is a desperate attempt to save their existence, by clinging on to a time in their life that was stable and dependable—a time where he was truly “the New England man” and money was of no concern (Miller 4).
Nature comes to symbolize this domestic and economic harmony he desires for his family. And, once again, Miller cleverly erases this natural element from the stage in its true form, and conjures it only through spoken dialogue or through special effects, such as when Willy’s “surroundings become covered with leaves” (Miller 16). The reduction of natural elements to these clever manipulations begs the question: if even the natural elements in Willy’s fantasies and memories are illusions, how real will his American Dream ever be?
To attempt to answer this question, it is useful to turn our attention to the ways in which the physical objects within the home are employed throughout the play. The role of material objects is most evident in Willy’s memory sequences, where they become the subject of his intense fixation. In one sequence, Willy finds himself teaching Biff and Happy how to properly wash and polish the family Chevrolet. He takes them step-by-step through the process, reminding them to be “careful” and telling them that its “the easiest thing” in the world (Miller 16).
While the car is absent onstage for this entire moment, the Chevrolet becomes just as real as the boys, with Willy imagining its presence in precise detail, from the “hubcaps” to the “windows” (Miller 16). His commitment to the specificity of the vehicle reinforces the notion that Willy is the architect of his family’s material realities and desires; he is responsible for procuring markers of their economic success, be it through cars or autographed punching bags.
The fact that these memory sequences are created in, around, and as an extension of the Loman house further reinforces the domestic influences of Willy’s misguided fantasies. Centering his dreams around the Chevrolet—in one moment, he drifts away from Linda while he is “thinking of the Chevvy” (Miller 8)—reminds us that Willy’s material obsessions within his memories are a product of his larger desire to succeed and be “liked” within the context of the American economy (Miller 18).
Ultimately, neither the Chevrolet nor his desires for economic fame will ever physically materialize onstage (or in the home), no matter how much he “coulda sworn” he was driving it (Miller 8). Linda’s stockings, on the other hand, represent a physical object that exists in “the present” (Miller 1), but sneaks its way into the memory realm of the play, with devastating consequences. Our first encounter with Linda’s stockings is, unsurprisingly, in a memory sequence.
While The Woman laughs at Willy from the sides of the stage, Linda sits in the kitchen “mending a pair of her silk stockings” to which Willy expresses horror (Miller 26). In an act of anger, he takes them “from her” and puts them in his pocket (Miller 26). By placing Linda’s stockings in his pocket, Willy makes a conscious attempt to gain control of the narrative in his memory. He removes the object, which reminds him of his wrongdoings, from the hands (read: control) of someone else, and places them under his direct influence instead.
The politics of this action are clearly very gendered, but it is important to question whether Willy’s action gives him any sort of real control over Linda. After all, Linda appears at the top of Act 2—this time in “the present” (Miller 1)—with another pair of stockings “hanging from her hand” (Miller 55). Try as he might, Willy will never be able to fully gain control of this memory from Linda. Time after time, she can conjure up stocking after stocking to mend, much to Willy’s frustration.
When the stockings make their final appearance in the hotel room memory, Linda’s ownership of the stockings is made explicit when Young Biff yells at Willy that he gave The Woman “Mama’s stockings! ” (Miller 95). The stockings are emotionally and syntactically tied to Linda, serving as the final nail in the coffin for Willy, and giving her a dominant position in this memory. No matter how hard he attempts to disconnect her from the event or to regain control of it from her, Willy is always “left on the floor on his knees,” submissive to Linda (Miller 95).
In the end, we are left wondering whether the stockings were ever really a part of his affair with The Woman, or whether they were reminders of his infidelity, which later became etched into his memory? Miller provides us with the final indication of how objects function for the Lomans in Biff’s final plea to Willy where he begs him to “take that phony dream and burn it before something happens” (Miller 106). Coming off the heels of Biff’s revelation of the rubber pipe behind the gas heater, the image of a burning dream intimately marks the gas heater as a force for change in the home.
Here, the objects in the home transition from merely decorative markers that trigger memories and emotional responses into items imbued with the family’s sense of survival. The heater’s double-edged power—both to warm the house and its inhabitants, but also to explosively combust or poison them—turns the object in a source of life and death for the family. Furthermore, in one simple act, Willy can “crack the jungle” (Miller 107) and change the course of the family’s future. All he needs to do is “go in to fetch a diamond” (Miller 107)—a physical object capable of altering their destiny.
In these final moments, Miller solidifies the materiality of the Lomans’ crisis by placing their entire future not in the hands of a human being, but rather in the objects of their lives: a fictional diamond will save them, through a car accident that can trigger a life insurance policy. Willy has made them so dependent on the materialism of their American Dream that, in a sad irony, “the only way” (Miller 107) their future can be decided is through their possessions and their money.
Ultimately, the American Dream provides very little for the Loman family: Linda is left a widow, Biff and Happy are forced to work in jobs they will never be truly joyful in, and a debt-free house now sits empty and cold. Miller paints a grim portrait of the drive for prosperity that ordinary American families succumb to in their hopes of achieving a better future for themselves. While the Lomans may own “well-advertised machines” (Miller 53) and live in a classic, suburban American home, Miller forces us to consider whether these possessions are ever truly ours to begin with and whether they bring any tangible good into our everyday lives.
Miller argues that a home and its possessions are no good, if all they do is push us to want more, disconnect from the world around us, and work harder, with no clear end in sight. Does the American Dream, then, provide us with real hope for a future better than our “present,” (Miller 1) or is it nothing more than a shell of a promise, one that was broken long before it was ever even made to us?