The Constant Nymph

I'm indebted to kendallishere's blip today for mine on this soggy soltice; grateful too, that I didn't need to go out in the rain to find it because this is a painting that hangs in my house.

Kendall linked to the 1937 film Stage Door, one of the many classic Hollywood productions I have never seen. My childhood cinema going was a haphazard affair. Growing up at first in rural Wales the only two films I remember being taken to were Where No Vultures Fly, about a wildlife sanctuary in Africa, and a musical about Hans Christian Andersen, starring Danny Kaye. Then we moved to Oxford and I went with my father to see 20,000 Leagues under the Sea and Battle of the River Plate. I can recall no others.
But later, during the 60s, my parents got into the habit of spending afternoons at the long-gone Scala Cinema (now the Phoenix), which specialised in foreign/arty films. I would be instructed to meet them there when I came out of school and in time I got to see the films too, directed by the likes of Truffaut, Godard, Bunuel, Antonioni, Kurosawa and Satyajit Ray. But Hollywood passed me by and of Garbo, Hepburn, Bogart and their ilk I remain shamefully unfamiliar.

So, after watching the YouTube clip of Stage Door I went to check out the back story and in the cast list I noticed the name Constance Collier. She was an English actress, born in 1878, who started out as a Gaiety Girl (dancer) at the age of 15 and then became an acclaimed stage actress in Shakespearean roles. Widowed young, she was closely associated with Ivor Novello and at the height of her popularity she relocated to Hollywood where she not only worked as a film actress but also a voice and drama coach, much in demand as silent movies were becoming a thing of the past. She pursued her acting career into old age (she was already 59 when she appeared in Stage Door) and she died in New York in 1955 at 77. There is an excellent biography of her here, which includes her perceptive opinion on Marilyn Monroe, who was one of her pupils.

Now, (if you are still with me - I am getting there slowly), a few doors down from the Scala Cinema in Walton Street Oxford was an unpretentious antiques shop where my parents loved to browse. My father being for the first time in receipt of a regular income (the old age pension), they had a little cash to spare which enabled them to buy the odd painting from time to time. Old pictures by minor artists, of little value but which had a certain something that appealed to them. This was one: it has no signature, date or provenance but the shop owner, a laconic and down-at-heel old man called Mr Spurling, suggested it might be a portrait of Constance Collier. I was too young to take much interest in all the discussion and speculation that accompanied each purchase (I think my parents were always hoping to discover a neglected masterpiece or at least a minor work by an established name) but I still call this one Constance Collier. But who knows? (Or cares.) The woman depicted does possess the same cupid's bow lips but her nose I feel is too straight. Have a look here and tell me what you think. (The individual images will enlarge if clicked on.)

And thank you Kendall for the inspiration.

[Title is from 1924 best-selling novel, filmed in 1928 starring Ivor Novello (but not Constance Collier.)]