Paris, New York. Cities of the world, and the two characters that this series pays hommage to. The two ports of a black and white galaxy where photography is the office of departure -- or rather a submarine -- for the incessant "round trip" rhythm for this artist who lives between the two shores of the Atlantic. Erwitt, who has always claimed responsibility for his amateurism, would photograph Paris endlessly like an amused tourist, and New York like a European. 

New York, Paris: Two urban monsters that have been a creative sanctuary for street photography as we know it since the 1940s. Erwitt was neither a humanist nor a street photographer, so it is difficult to place him with the Doisneau's, Stettner's, Cartier-Bresson's, and Faurer's.

This is due to the fact that he had too much spirit, humor, and bite to be reasonably categorized. Although he did have a sort of melancholy conscience, and a habit for drinking until the end of the night. The funniest men are rarely the happiest.

Departures, arrivals. "To travel is to be unfaithful. Be it so without remorse; forget your friends with strangers," wrote Paul Morand. This is precisely what Erwitt has been doing for sixty-six years. The night is not over yet.