For so long now I have been looking for a large scale print of Scherman’s portrait of Lee Miller in Hitler’s bath tub. The search has put me in to contact with curators of obscure German museums, Miller’s own son – and has put me under the scrutiny of the American Secret Service via my query to the Associated Press regarding ownership of the image. My wife, also, happy enough in the knowledge that her spouse has designs on another woman, has become embroiled in the search – though to what personal cost she keeps to herself.
I am absolutely devoted to Miller. The supermodel who parked champagne to chill on her doorstep in the snow while she made love in the ruins of war torn Europe. The woman who photographed SS suicides, and who tarried with the rogues who rebuilt Europe only to starve thousands of orphans on account of their own self interest. The woman who was broken by what she saw of the world and retreated into the bottle and locked her past in a box in the attic and never breathed a word to her family.
Anyone who can help me obtain a large print of this will be in line for a reward.
