Praise for Katherine's work ...

Katherine Hilden has been the hit of my last several parties ... in fact, I'm now having some people respond to invitations by asking "Will Katherine be there?" Her ability to zero in on personalities and expressions is uncanny, and her drawings are hilarious without the mean streak that some caricaturists seem to thrive on. (She even made me look skinny, so how can I not like her?) Watching her work is a great conversation starter. Invite her to your next party-- and make room for a long line!
--Kathy O'Malley, WGN Radio


Katherine's incredible talent and great connection to people added so much to our benefit evening. She amazed people and added an extra dimension of fun to the event.
--North Shore Art League, Winnetka

... and stories from Katherine

We're all cousins here

The family is getting together to celebrate mom and dad's fortieth wedding anniversary. It's kind of a mom and pop's restaurant too, with knick-knacks on the windowsill. I arrive extra early to make sure I'm all set when the guests of honor arrive, since it's a surprise, and by the time they walk in I've already drawn three people. The ambiance is great from the start, but once Jennifer has some food and drink, I know that half my work is taken care of. Jennifer happens to be sitting right behind me and Jennifer loves to gossip about her family. This means that as soon as someone sits down to be drawn, Jennifer leans over my shoulder and gives me the dope on this character, who sometimes gets to hear her input and sometimes not. She spares no one, not even her parents. It's all in good fun, of course. I'm sure of that, since the cousins -- "we're all cousins here" -- also know how to talk back to Jennifer. Thanks Jennifer, I couldn't have done it without you.

Floating in the dark

This event has been the cherry on my summers for the past ten years. A publishing company invites a boat-full of clients and sails them on Lake Geneva, WI, for three hours. Music from the islands, food from heaven, and laughter over those caricatures is what they get to enjoy. Oh, and the dark. Because soon after we board we enjoy the inevitably spectacular sun set and then we're in the inevitably spectacular dark. Very few lights from those mansions on the shore. It is simply magical.

" We're the last people in the world to let you down."

The cemetery was in the family's possession for 150 years and just about all the luminaries of Chicago history are buried there, but it's time to pass it on. It's a big piece of real estate and the sale calls for a big celebration. How do you do this? You get a two-story suite at the Ritz-Carlton, a sumptuous dinner with very old wine, and, well, you get that caricaturist. The host is the heir to the family fortune. He has a "IV" after his name. The guest list is comprised of the accountant, an opera singer, the cemetery office staff, and half a dozen gravediggers. What I remember most are the arias, the imitation of Nixon from the balcony, a reviving shoulder rub from the host himself, and--the jokes the gravediggers told me because I asked for some gravedigger jokes.

Gallery

A large insurance company is holding the annual picnic way out from the city where the grounds are dotted with lagoons and there are pony rides for the kids. With so much fun in store for us, we waste no time getting started and we're still there at sun set. I'm booked for four hours, but am asked to stay and stay and stay another hour. I draw for eight hours, people bring me nibbles, and I love every minute. Someone digs up some twine and clothes pins, strings the twine back and forth in the park pavilion, and pins the caricatures up for everyone to see and comment on. A sight to see.

Awesome

is what I hear at kids parties. It's an afternoon bar-mitzvah in an elegant Italian Restaurant and I tuck my act into an alcove that will shelter me on two fronts from excessive youthful enthusiasm. Perfect: the light is good and the line can only form one direction. And form it does. In the first hour I draw twenty kids. I'm besting my record. The line moves so fast, it's barely a line. I tap my foot to the Kletzmer beat, hum along with the jazz, and--I can't remember, did I take a break?--in three-and-a-half hours I have drawn 56 people. I see some kids throwing back their heads with laughter when they see the caricature. I see some jaws drop: oh-my-god. But mostly I'm told that I'm like totally awesome.

Presenting Mr. and Mrs.

Really, that's what I heard as the guests arrived in their white bow ties and formal gowns, because the 18th century "drawing" room I worked in was just off the foyer, which was the size of Connecticut. There was plenty of amusement throughout this mansion (the music from the ballroom reached every room and I know there was a fortuneteller somewhere), but they came to sit on that 18th century settee to be drawn and to laugh uproariously. What else could they do? Just because you're wearing a tux doesn't mean I can't draw you in your boxer shorts, the ones with the red polka dots. And that elegant strapless number can easily be replaced by something your mother wouldn't approve of.

Then they drew ME

We're under a white tent in the evening at a suburban Marriott. Some personnel directors have come together to celebrate their wit and wisdom--as well they should. These people know something about partying, not putting on the image of partying, but getting down and doing it. How did they do it? Kept it simple. Brought a boom-box and their own favorite tapes, ordered a buffet and a caricaturist who interacts with people. That's all we did that night: they danced with personal abandon and I drew them, all forty-eight of them. We got along so well that towards midnight there was nothing left to do but to turn the tables: they drew me.