On my first trip to Washington, D.C., years ago, as a teenager, I remember visiting the National Gallery of Art. At the time, I was mostly acquainted with the famous artists whose work showed up regularly in wall calendars. So, I went in excited to see masterworks by Degas and Cassatt, Van Gogh and Cézanne, and the museum didn't let me down in that regard. What I didn't expect, however, was the powerful allure of some of the drawings on display. Although I don't recall the specific works, I remember being surprised by the lively energy and an intimacy that made me feel as though I was looking directly into the mind of the artist. It makes sense, then, that I would become such a fan of pastel—which so fabulously…
