Not about Impressionists, but I figure this is a good place to post this anyway. It's a cool, funny song.

Lyrics copied from http://www.insurgentcountry.com/terry_allen_lbk_on_everything_lyrics.txt

TRUCKLOAD OF ART
(Terry Allen)

SPOKEN INTRO: Once upon a time, some time ago back on the East Coast--in New York City, to be exact--a bunch of artists and painters and sculptors and musicians and poets and writers and dancers and architects started feeling real superior to their ego counterparts out on the West Coast. So they all got together and decided they would show those snotty surfer upstarts a thing or two about the Big Apple. And they hired themselves a truck. It was a big, spanking-new, white, shiny, chrome-plated, cab-over Peterbilt, with mud flaps, stereo, TV, AM and FM radio, leather seats, and a Naugahyde sleeper, all fresh with new American-flag decals and "ART ARK" printed on the side of the door with solid 24-karat gold-leaf type. And they filled up this truck with the most significant piles and influential heaps of artwork to ever be assembled in modern times, and sent it west, to chide, cajole, humble and humiliate the Golden Bear. And this is the true story of that truck:

A truckload of art from New York City
Came rolling down the road.
Yeah, the driver was singing and the sunset was pretty,
But the truck turned over and she rolled off the road.

Yeah, a truckload of art is burning near the highway.
Precious objects are scattered all over the ground.
And it's a terrible sight if a person were to see it,
But there weren't nobody around.

Yeah, the driver went sailing high in the sky,
Landing in the gold lap of the Lord,
Who smiled and then said, "Son, you're better off dead
Than hauling a truckload full of hot avant-garde."

Yes, an important artwork was thrown burning to the ground,
Tragically landing in the weeds.
The smoke could be seen, ah, for miles all around.
Yeah, but nobody knows what it means.

A truckload of art is burning near the highway,
And it's a tough job for the highway patrol.
Ah, they'll soon see the smoke and come running to poke,
Then dig a deep ditch and throw the arts in a hole.

The truckload of art is burning near the highway,
And it's raging far out of control.
And what the critics have cheered is now shattered and queered,
And their noble reviews have been strewed on the road.

[Recorded by Terry Allen on "Lubbock (On Everything)," Sugar Hill CD 1047, 1995 (originally released as an LP in 1979); and by the Austin Lounge Lizards on "Small Minds," Watermelon CD 1034, 1995.]