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Madame Alia Nazimova Bryant in a whispered conference ^A^ith husband Charles over a point in the scenario — or is she laughing at director Herbert Blache because he has placed his shoe on her nice, clean frock?
The Real Na2,imova
Either she is always acting or she never acts. She doesn't know which herself.
By EDWIN FREDERICKS
D
0 you know the real Nazimova?
As well ask "Do you know the real Sphinx?" Over the carved stone head in the Egyptian desert is the legend "Know Thyself." Madame Nazimova admits that she doesn't know her real self, that she is wholly unable to answer the question "Who is the real Nazimova?"
A strange assortment of contrarieties. One questions the boundary line between actress and woman.
Like a kaleidoscope are the Nazimova moods and manners. With a thousand changes she makes each one convincing and reasonable. I have seen her at a dinner party flashing her eyes and sparkling with mischief — "The Brat" incarnate in her enjoyment of the fun. An hour later bending over the piano she has responded to Leopold Godowsky's art with all the rapt exaltation she wore in "Revelation."
Is she always acting or is she always herself?
"I don't act," she cries, "I only try with each characterization to be exactly that sort of a person, with no touch of any other role visible."
As for her stage career the artist declares it was just a bit of luck. "I don't know why I chose the stage," she says, "of course probably because like most girls of sixteen I was stage struck, and good fortune helped me out." Her genius
is wide and like other women high in her profession it is said she could have triumphed in many other arts had she not chosen the drama.
Nazimova vigorously denies any suggestion of affectation — and dresses in garments that are as nearly outre as modern woman can wear!
At a big ball recently she appeared in a semi-Chinese garb. Green and gold flamboyant enough for a princess of the Orient set forth her unusual type and made her a shining magnet for all eyes in a room which was filled with the latest and most expensive creations of world famous modistes. With her emerald stockings and little green shoes she danced and romped with the abandon of a soubrette. her short curls flying and animation radiating from her entire personality like light from some vivid incandescent body.
My first glimpse of the great actress at home was something of a facer. On the stage she is a slender lithe figure of incalculable grace. In the heavy wools and silks of her own domain she loses height and her broad shoulders, and wide rather flat figure gives an impression of sturdiness entirely belying the sinuous beauty so apparent before footlights and camera. "Stubby" the casual observer might say before he realized the panther-like silkiness of her movements, the
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