Bert Stern: Marilyn in Rhinestones, Signed Original Print

Photographer

Bert Stern

Title

Marilyn with Rhinestones

Medium and Size

Lithograph

Image Size – 22” x 15”     Paper Size – 28” x 22”

Signature/Limitation

Signed by Bert Stern on the verso and recto along with his stamp. Bert Stern has also titled the picture on the verso. Number 285. Please note that this is a stock photograph of “Marilyn with Rhinestones” signed by Bert Stern. The actual signed photograph is almost 2 feet by 2.5 feet and does not lend itself to being photographed for a listing without distortion. The actual print in signed in red on the border of the photograph and not on the photograph itself. Likewise, the title and signature on the verso are also signed in red.

Image Date/Print Date

1962/1994 – Although the lithograph was printed in 1994, Bert Stern signed one of the few remaining copies of this print in 2011 and is so stated on the verso and Certificate of Authenticity.

Provenance

Certificate of Authenticity Signed by Bert Stern with title and number.

References

Bert Stern's best known work is arguably a collection of 2,500 photographs, some nude or semi-nude, taken of Marilyn Monroe over a three day period, six weeks before her death. As they were the last posed photographs taken of Monroe, the portfolio has come to be known as "The Last Sitting". The photographs were taken for Vogue, who published several of them following Monroe's death. A book containing these photographs, including copies of proofs over which Monroe had written comments, or crossed out with lipstick, was published in 1992 with the title Marilyn Monroe: The Complete Last Sitting.

Detailed Information About “Marilyn in Rhinestones”

Bert Stern’s comments on the last picture he took of Marilyn from the book The Last Sitting:

"Everybody was working:  Kenneth combing Marilyn's hair, Babs arranging a string of pearls around her neck.  I was way up there in the dark, looking down on her lying there with her hair spread out. 

Marilyn was a little pensive, and I wanted her laughing, alive.  So I said, "Could someone turn her on, please?"  Babs offered her some champagne.

"No, no," I called down.  "She can't move out of that position.  Talk to her.  Pat, talk to her." 

Pat said to Marilyn, "What about those two loves in your life?"  Marilyn started to giggle.

I didn't know who Marilyn's lovers were but she obviously enjoyed thinking about them.  She was laughing, looking over at Pat, and I said, "That's great!  But look up here, at the camera."  And to draw her attention to me, I said, "How about those two men..."

She was on, and the strobes were clicking, and the light was bouncing around, tinkling down, Kenneth came over with a handful of sparkle and scattered it in her hair.  The pearls were around her neck, and she was laughing, free.  And I whispered to myself, "Boy...how far out..."  I really had her.  The light was just right.  Everything began to move a little faster.

It was coming - the moment I was looking for.

A lot of pictures I take are not the real picture.  They're the picture before the picture, the picture leading up to the picture --and then I get the picture.  I see it through the lens as I'm shooting and I know it's the one.  Exactly how I see it depends on the camera.  On the Nikon and the Hasselblad you're looking right through the lens, so the shutter goes black when the actual picture is taken.  On those cameras I don't see the picture itself.  I keep shooting right up to that instant when I feel, I know, it's about to happen.  Then I push the button and on that black space I project the picture.  The Rolleiflex doesn't do that, because it has a twin lens.  But then you don't see the actual picture either, because you're seeing through the upper lens, and the angle's slightly different. 

Either way, you never see the picture that you're taking.  At that perfect moment you just have to close your eyes and jump.  And when that moment comes, it's a zillionth of a second.  It will never be repeated again, it could take all eternity to get it back.  You have to grab it. 

Looking down at Marilyn, I could see it happening.  I was entering that space where everything is silent but the clicking of the strobes.  She was tossing her head, laughing, and her arm was up, like waving goodbye. 

I saw what I wanted, I pressed the button, and she was mine. 

It was the last picture."