Mother was fine arts at U of Chicago; I was physics for 3 1/2 years and art history for another 1 1/2 after Schrodinger Equations (sounds of prolonged screaming). We both studied at the Lorado Taft studio just off the midway. Grandmother actually studied with Taft at the Art Institute before she married grandfather. Mother raised me in museums, visiting his sculptures. I was poor - fuzzy, fast lines. Her lines were the precise, art-deco lines that made you mentally finish the images. She'd smooth the black Chicago dirt at the bottom of the stairs and draw. Some of my earliest memories. Mother's "Spring."
It was a marvelous school to study art. I cried when the French Impressionists were projected on the front of the auditorium. A very different crying than physics gave me.