As a little girl, I was always being something else; a bird, or a lamppost, a policemen, a postman, a flowerpot. I remember the day I decided to be a small dog. I was quite disconcerted when my father refused absolutely to put a leash around my neck and take me for a walk […].
I used to dress up… and my father helped me to put funny hats on, a pipe in my mouth, glasses, that sort of thing — he was terribly interested in the art of photography and he photographed me as I was having fun in his big shoes and all that. And I stood in front of the mirror and played everything from big bears to old ladies and young princesses. I played all the parts […].
The camera never frightened me and everybody thought it was very funny when I did my first scene, that I was going around so happy and not at all frightened. And that stayed with me. I had never had any fear.