When I got to Paris a couple of weeks ago, I asked my French friends what was special to see. I had a rough itinerary, places I’d never visited, such as Gustave Moreau’s house, the Nissim de Camondo Museum, and the mythically sublime but in-the-flesh genuinely sublime Foundation Custodia. Then there’s the Louvre, of course, and Sainte-Chapelle’s stained glass, probably the work of art dearest to me. “You have to see the Morozov show,” they said. “Étonnant,” “incroyable,” “invraisembable,” they sputtered and cooed. “Chimérique,” an artist friend called it, the stuff of inconceivable fantasy.
And they were right. Mikhail (1870–1903) and Ivan (1871–1921) Morozov, two fantastically rich Moscow brothers, each assembled a dazzling group of avant-garde French paintings in the 20 or so years before the 1917 Bolshevik Revolution. Each is different but on a parallel track. A hefty selection, usually living at the Pushkin State Museum and the Hermitage, is in Paris now, at the Louis Vuitton Foundation.






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