Multitudes
Of a bastard line.
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^ You're most welcome Whitelinen
Among the many images of the Second World War, few are quite so bizarre as that of a naked woman reclining in the bathtub in an immaculately-grouted bathroom at Adolf Hitler's Munich apartment after the capture of the city in 1945. The photograph is all the more surreal considering that on the day she took her bath, Lee Miller, who held the unlikely position of war correspondent for Vogue magazine, accompanied troops as they liberated Dachau concentration camp, and produced some of the first photographic evidence of the Holocaust.
Sixty years on, it is Lee Miller's own home that is attracting attention. On June 20, No 21 Downshire Hill, Hampstead became the latest London property to be awarded a blue plaque. Unveiled by the playwright Sir David Hare, it reads simply: "Lee Miller (1907-1977), Photographer, and Sir Roland Penrose (1900-1984), Surrealist, lived here." For historians of 20th-century photography, the plaque marks the rightful rehabilitation of a remarkable artist and character who had been all but forgotten since her death.
For the current owner, Richard Klein, it marks the culmination of a campaign to have the history of his home recognised. For countless other Londoners, it has provided the perfect opportunity to have a gawp at the house.
The property, a four-storey, five-bedroom, end-of-terrace Regency town house, attracted a fair amount of attention back in Lee Miller's day, too, and not just because Pablo Picasso and Max Ernst were frequent visitors. The name of a third resident, David Scherman, a photographer on Life magazine, has been left off the plaque - an omission which, one imagines, Lee Miller would have regretted, for it was in this house that she conducted a much remarked-upon ménage à trois. In the 1930s and early 1940s the house was known in artistic circles for its parties, which often had a surrealist theme. A photograph dated April 23, 1943 - Miller's 36th birthday party - features a goose wandering among the guests.
Miller, born in New York state, had previously been the wife of, and model for, the photographer Man Ray. Having escaped his possessive clutches, she was living in Cairo in the summer of 1939 when she began an affair with Roland Penrose, an art critic of wealthy Quaker background. With the threat of war imminent, they drove quickly to London where they set up home at Downshire Hill. Miller found herself a job on Vogue, where she became noted for her fashion shoots on bomb sites.
In 1946, Miller and Penrose conceived their only child, got married and moved to Sussex, where Lee sank into depression, alcoholism and obscurity. Among the furniture and general bric-a-brac they took with them were one or two mementos from the war. "She wasn't opposed to stealing stuff and taking it home," says Klein. "I understand that Hitler's cuff-links and braces were stored in the attic here for a few months in 1946." The items ended up in Sussex, along with the 500 prints and 40,000 negatives which constituted Lee's life's work and which have subsequently been archived by her son, Anthony.
Since the blue plaque went up in Downshire Hill two weeks ago, Klein has noticed considerable interest from passers-by. "The street gets quite a lot of traffic anyway, because it leads up to the Heath, but now people have been stopping outside. Some have even opened the gate and walked into the garden to have a closer look. It is the first blue plaque in Downshire Hill."
Last weekend, Richard Klein put his home on the market, through TK International (020 7435 6990) for £2,475,000. Remarkably, given the quietness at the upper end of the London housing market this year, the agent received 15 calls and arranged two viewings on the first day, followed by a further three viewings early last week.
"A substantial house in Downshire Hill will always attract interest," says Jeremy Karpel of TK International. "But in addition this property is attracting the sort of buyer who wants to acquire a piece of history. Some people find it attractive to have their home as a talking point, and in this case people find the history quite racy. On the negative side, a house with an interesting history attracts what I call 'flakes' - people who want to have a look around but then melt away when you try to follow up to see whether they are interested in buying."
If he thinks his home is attracting tourists now, it is nothing compared to the interest 21 Downshire Hill could be receiving in a couple of years' time. In spite of her blue plaque, Lee Miller is still a relatively obscure figure, but that will change if a planned film about her life, written by David Hare and provisionally starring Nicole Kidman, actually gets made. As residents of Notting Hill can attest, coach tours are never far behind a Hollywood film.
Blue plaques
• There are 800 blue plaques in Britain, all but 50 on buildings in London.
• To be eligible for a plaque, the person being commemorated must either have been dead for 20 years, or 100 years must have passed since their birth.
• A blue plaque does not mean the house becomes listed, neither is there any statutory duty to maintain it.
• Homeowners cannot be forced to host a blue plaque; if you already have one, you are entitled to remove it and return it to English Heritage, which has administered the scheme since 1986. A spokesman says, however, that "We are not aware that this has ever happened."
Women with fire masks, Downshire Hill, London, 1941
I love the oddness and relevation in his work. Is there an archive of his work anywhere online?