I love the drawings of Sempe, especially the ones that freeze a small, private moment in the midst of a cluttered, grandiose, often frenzied world. He'll draw a windowed stack of apartment buildings and in one of the windows highlight a man exercising on his stationary bike, or a girl in pigtails practicing the violin. His drawings are Chaplinesque fanfares for the little guy.
My favorite drawing of his is of a street astir with speeding cars and rushing pedestrians, one of whom has come to a stop in front of an art gallery to gaze at the still life in the window.
When I travel I try to take Sempe-like photographs. My most successful shows Corcovado, and the city of Rio de Janeiro, rising above an ornate, two-story house with a large open window where a man in a T-shirt stands, smoking a cigarette.
Last night, driving home from Miami, I was thrilled to find a Sempe scene on I-95. I had noticed the flashing lights of a police car up ahead, and when I got closer I found three squad cars, their lights all a-whirl, forming a row behind a Mini Cooper.
