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And with the dawning of this grand new era came a renewed
sense that I could get my work to her through the offices of Jon Peter's studio.
The receptionist was most helpful and said she would leave instructions with the
security guard to accept my portfolio. I did as I was told and left a portfolio of
original works in the hands of some guy at some gate in Burbank or wherever it was.
I really no longer recall where it was located. I was fresh from Fargo and never
had the slightest idea where I was going.
Low and behold, when I went to pick
up my portfolio one week later I was told that Miss Streisand was very impressed
with my work but that she was in the process of filming (The Main Event) and asked
for me to return in six months when she would be considering album illustrations.
I was elated. I mean, after all, this was my destiny to fulfill and it was a relief
to know it was finally my turn up to bat.
I awaited with baited breathe for the
proper amount of time to pass. Six months to the day, I called the very same number
which had brought me to this glorious moment. A new receptionist answered the phone
and didn't have the slightest clue what I was talking about. In fact, I dare say
she thought I was a nut. But I persisted. I knew I wasn't crazy. Yet as much as I
attempted to convince her of my story she refused to budge and seemed more steadfast
in her belief that I should be adorned in a white wrap around jacket and relocated
to a room with pink padded walls. I watched as my dream began to fray at the edges.
As a last resort, I summed up the true emotional essence of the moment and gave her
my most heartfelt plea, "God dammit, lady,...BARBRA wants to see my PORTFOLIO!"
I made several other attempts, thinking she would soon
be replaced by someone else. As luck would have it, she lasted longer than the relationship
between Barbra and Jon.
Nonetheless, it was a devastating blow.
So close and yet so far. And yet I continued. Barbra. Barbra. Barbra.
It was,..well,..freaky. Sending stuff here and there hoping by some peculiar fluke,
Destiny would step in and grant my wish. If she said, "You stink. Now go away"
I would have accepted that. But insofar as I know every package I ever sent regarding
this matter got sucked up into that grand vortex of lost mail floating around in
space.
Throughout this time frame I would
have to guess-timate that I created at least a dozen Streisand portraits. I have
no idea what happened to all of them nor do I really care to find out. As some of
you can tell, these are some pretty rare photographs and only a small selection from
The Barbra Fetish Years.
And Amen to that.
  
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For some peculiar reason, her new curly hair style took on
a life of its own in my work. It went from scribbles and drippy eyeballs to flowers
and poetic , if not superfluous, swirls and coils.
