OK; as the lawyers love to say, let's stipulate that:
- when one goes to an exhibit that says it's from Seurat to Matisse, one knows only that there will be one Seurat and one Matisse,
- and that between these two icons, there could be any amount of dreck,
- that I took "the pledge" not to preserve my virginity but to respect a moratorium on pre-, post- and full-Impressionist art my friend and advisor, G., has imposed on himself and that his fideles have endorsed, and finally,
- that anyone who changed his name from Delacroix to Cross has some serious issues undealt with.
I went in, standing in an incredibly slow line caused by every old person on the planet coming today and by the most incompetent cashier on the planet checking us all in.
So in. Ground or at least RDC.5 floor nicely showing works largely Monet and Marmottan derived. OK.
Downstairs. OK. Cross stuff, a bit derivative of the big boys, a bit more flashy, a bit more boring than the work of the well-known Impressionists.
Wows? Huh? Not here.
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