Moreau R.

Gustave Moreau never left Paris, yet his paintings hum with the heat of Greek sunlight. He loved watercolors for their quick, nervy strokes—like someone sketching ruins between sips of coffee. His arched sketches of Thessaloniki’s Galarius Arch feel less like ruins and more like stage flats waiting for actors. His work belongs here because you can almost smell the mineral dust of that archway; look for the tiny shadow under the keystone that makes the whole stone seem to breathe.