I love a drawing. Looking at a drawing is like a little invitation to the mind of a painter, even a long dead one. The years fall away, and I am with whomever it is, and we are sitting together, struggling with the same light and the same colors, and the same world to try to translate into a picture. So I can wholeheartedly recommend the show of Delacroix drawings at the Met, on view there til January. But I can’t tell you that I adored the painting show. There are some lovely passages of paint, and some gorgeous, dramatic lightscapes. But the drama of it all kind of wore me out. However, there are drawings in the show that are beautiful, and some prints (illustrating a Faust text). But the best thing is this accompanying show of drawings and sketchbooks. That’s where I found most of these treasures (though I think the tigers are from the painting show):