This may sound like a stuffy prospect, but in fact, due to the strangeness of his art, and the eccentricity of his place of residence, Moreau’s musée is one of the most interesting, thorough, and often downright surprising small museums in Paris. The artist’s studio alone presents quite an unforgettable sight. Fans of Moreau’s art will understand why right away: here, the viewer finds him- or her -self in the midst of canvasses decorated with enigmatic mythical figures whose pale, ghostly skin and intricate, luxuriant surroundings glow like fairy lights. The femme fatale is a common motif in Moreau’s works, and on the walls are several versions of the Salomé motif.

Check out "The Apparition", in which John the Baptist’s bloody, severed head floats reproachfully and grotesquely before the woman who ordered his murder. Strange, isn't it? Visitors can get close to the paintings, enough to notice things like Moreau’s use of subtle, thin line patterns that rise slightly off the canvasses and suggest henna skin paintings or the facial tattoos of indigenous Pacific tribes. Sound strange here too? You bet it is. Moreau’s works perfectly reflect several 19th century artistic movements (Romanticism, Exoticism, Symbolism), but remain distinctly and unmistakably on a plane of their own. To even more fully appreciate the master’s use of lines, visitors can examine drawers and moveable frames full of his drawings, sketches, and studies. There’s even some examples of the artist’s earlier work, such as a depiction of Saint George and the Dragon. The simple, clear composition of this painting suggests Italian masters like Raphael and Uccello, rather than the tangled, complicated forms for which Moreau is best known.

But the paintings aren’t the only strange things in the museum. The building itself can be unusual, from the odd colors of its walls, to the studio’s baroque spiral staircase, whose curving lines seem like a part of the ceiling that’s melting to the floor below. And then there’s the apartment itself. Moreau lived here with his elderly parents, as some of the engravings that fill the few rooms suggest. The furniture often takes a Neo-Gothic turn, and the bric-a-brac frequently verges on the bizarre. For example, take a minute from marvelling at the small size of Moreau’s narrow bed, and move into the tiny boudoir. In here, on the mantelpiece is an arrangement of exotic flowers and brightly colored stuffed birds whose feathers rival the glittering jewels and plants in the master’s paintings.

Its incredible array of artwork, arranged by Moreau himself, is the sort of collection any small museum would kill to have. But what really gives the Musée Gustave Moreau that extra something is the fact that one is able to see where the man lived, ate, and slept. Looking at the twisted forms of the studio staircase, or the acid green wallpaper and strange objects in the apartment, one might just get the impression that, besides dreams, foreign lands, and classical art, it was his very own daily surroundings that inspired some of Moreau’s greatest works. A unique insight into an eccentric artist, this museum is an unusual site that shouldn’t be missed.