During the spring 1996 auctions in London, Takashi Hashiyama, founder of the Maspro Denkoh Corporation, bought an exceptional oil by Paul Cezanne, “Les grands arbres au Jas de Bouffan.” A deliquescent rendering of trees in a landscape (c. 1885-87), the painting is composed almost entirely of jabbing, vertical brushstrokes. It shimmers as though one were squinting at the scene just after a spring rain. The picture stood out like the tallest poppy in what was a field of beauties at Christie’s Impressionist and Modern auctions.

Others might have preferred one of the more iconic pieces included in the sale, such as Constantin Brancusi’s undulant, and recently discovered, “Oiseau dans l’espace” (c. 1922-23), carved from blue-gray marble, or perhaps Alberto Giacometti’s stick-like, bronze “Femme Leoni” (conceived 1947, cast 1960), one of his famous thin sculptures. Both are undoubtedly masterpieces, and they have price estimates to match their status. But the throng of superstar works caused my eye to gravitate toward the oddities, the character actors, if you will.

For a Giacometti, I would have considered the more challenging “Portrait de Diego” (1958), a dark and tortured oil in grays and violets, writhing with energy. Like wise, Henri Matisse’s “Figure feminine et fruits” (1947), a brush and India ink drawing on paper, was the Apollonian drawing of choice. In a thick, fluid line, it depicts a woman at table with typical Matissian grace. To it, one might compare a Dionysian sheet by Egon Schiele, “Madchenakt en face, Hande vor dem Gesicht” (1918), a black crayon drawing of a voluptuous nude hiding her face in her hands. Troubling and explicit, it is a remarkable effort, though certainly no crowd-pleaser. But again, my dark-horse selection was the work on paper by Joan Miro, “Composition” (1976), which is hidden away in today’s morning sale. Rendered in gouache, pastel, black wash, and colored wax crayons, it is a vividly colored and somewhat abstract image – in red, blue, green, yellow, and black – from Miro’s unheralded late period, when the artist pushed his considerable talents in unexpected directions.

Returning for a moment to the 19th century, I would point out what is perhaps the oddest lot, “Polichinelle” (1873), an aged, be whiskered, and rubicund clown, painted in oil by Edouard Manet. If the image seems almost kitschy, it should also be noted that, like many of Manet’s greatest portraits, the figure stands against a nondescriptive gray background, a technique the artist borrowed from Velazquez. I found this conjunction of a strange figure in a classic pose mesmerizing. Apparently buyers did not.

Of course, there were plenty of instances in which works acknowledged as outstanding trump the quirkier options. For instance, Pablo Picasso’s early “Boulevard de Clichy” (1901): a rare, Impressionist-style streetscape might have been a fascinating, eccentric buy for a Picasso collector, but most of us would rather have his magnificent “Tete et main de femme” (1921). One of his classicizing images of massive women, the latter work, a bust-length portrait in oil of a woman with a large hand, is rightly an auction highlight. Similarly, Edouard Vuillard’s “La table, la fin du de jeuner chez Madame Vuillard,” a typical interior group scene with intricate patterning, will certainly gratify anyone with a taste for the anti-Modernism of the Intimistes.

When Mr. Hashiyama acquired his Cezanne, works by the artist were some of the most sought-after in the world. Apparently, he could afford to pursue fine examples by the leading lights. But sticking with consensus tastes requires vast sums, and the works chosen in that category will likely not be as surprising nor as personally meaningful as those one finds by swimming against the current of mainstream appetites.