Whistler in Paris: Lithographs From The Belle Epoque 1891-1896 (thru August 15) is a gem currently on exhibition at the Freer. Most of the small assortment of lithographs and etchings benefit from the garden setting of his Paris home, which supposedly was reached by turning under an archway, walking through a covered passage, and going up a flight of stairs. There is more information about the exhibit here, but neither the Smithsonian's site nor the Washington Post's review do this refined and hedonistic set of petite vignettes justice. After The Peacock Room, and its verdant depiction of an epic clash of wills, I found Whistler in Paris to be a breath of fresh air. And, of course, a lingering question harangued me for the rest of the day, as it so often does: Why can't I come up with a single reason not to move to Paris?
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