I don't know, what is it that drives people to make art? Is it that they find the daily events happening around them so magisterial that they just want to preserve them from the timelessness, rather like a sacred shrine, or an offering, in gratitude?
This was just a woman in a cafe in Bastille, waiting for her friend to arrive.
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| Deux femmes dans la Gare de L'Est |
These two women were so excited to meet up and chat together, they almost locked together like jigsaw pieces
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| Femme au bord de la Canal St Martin |
This woman was sat by the canal St Martin. She glanced so quickly, but she was so composed and serene
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| Femme dans la Gare du Nord |
This woman was waiting for her train in Gare du Nord. Ten minutes after this sketch she must have heard her train announced on the tannoy, for she was up and off
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| Femme devant la gare de l'Est |
This woman was busy talking to a friend, but she glanced up briefly when she noticed me looking at her.
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| Rue du Faubourg Saint Martin |
This woman was so well groomed and seemed really proud of her handbag, on the rue Faubourg St Martin
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| Café au Motte Piquet |
This man was eating his lunch alone at the Motte Piquet
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| La coiffeuse, rue de Faubourg Saint Martin |
There was a moment of reflection in this hairdressers as the customer assessed her new hairstyle
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| Café, rue du Faubourg Saint Martin |
This cafe was an oasis of peace, and two men played chequers
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| rue du Faubourg Saint Martin |
A waitress glanced out of the window at the Porte St Martin
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