Julie Cowan

As I pick out a blue pastel stick from the wooden box and apply the powdery hue to a print, I remember my parents’ friend, Hermine. She was so different from my mother--tall, delicate, and soft-spoken. Hermine was an artist. I had never been around artists before and could ask her questions that were not relevant in our house. Hermine and Jack, her husband, lived in Chicago in an apartment that had original art hanging on the walls. How daring and cosmopolitan!

Hermine passed away when I was a young teenager. Jack gifted her spectacular Grumbacher Pastel set to me. Ninety colors, the fancy box, the soft protective tissue inside, the set travels with me and continues to contribute to my art practice. Hermine is with me, too.