How I Created Paris Street Art: A Rainy Day at the Arc de TriompheParis has an extraordinary way of revealing itself to artists. No matter how many times one visits, the city always offers a new mood, a new light, or a fleeting moment that demands to be captured. On this particular day, Paris revealed itself through rain, reflections, movement, and human connection — all of which became central to the creation of one of my most memorable Paris street paintings.The day began early. My wife, Ilse, and I left our hotel room just after sunrise. I knew instinctively that if I wanted to paint the Arc de Triomphe plein air, I needed time — time to find the right vantage point, time to observe the atmosphere, and time to allow the city to awaken around me. Paris in the early morning has a quieter energy, even along a grand avenue such as the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. The rain had already begun to fall softly, creating a silvery sheen over the pavement.Many artists avoid painting in the rain. I embrace it. Rain transforms a scene. Colours deepen, edges soften, and reflections appear that simply do not exist on a dry day. The wet surfaces of the Champs-Élysées became a mirror — reflecting lampposts, passing figures, umbrellas, and the muted glow of Parisian architecture. I knew immediately that this was the day to paint.I positioned myself on the sidewalk with a clear view of the Arc de Triomphe. Setting up my equipment in a busy public space always requires a degree of adaptability, but over the years I have learned to work efficiently and unobtrusively. The rain did not deter me; in fact, it heightened my focus. There is a certain intimacy that comes with painting outdoors in challenging conditions — the artist becomes completely absorbed in the moment.As I began sketching the composition, the city moved around me. People hurried past, umbrellas in hand, coats pulled tight. Tourists slowed their pace, drawn by the sight of an artist at work. Some stopped briefly, others lingered. Very soon, a small crowd began to form.What followed was one of the most rewarding aspects of the day.People from all over the world gathered — couples, families, solo travellers — speaking a variety of languages. French, English, German, Italian, Spanish, and many others blended into a gentle hum of conversation. Despite the rain, there was warmth in the air, not from the weather, but from human curiosity and kindness. Strangers asked questions about my process, my materials, and my inspiration. Many were fascinated by the idea of plein air painting in such an iconic location.I welcomed every conversation. For me, painting is not a solitary act, even when working alone. It is a dialogue — between artist and subject, artist and environment, and often, artist and observer. Sharing the process with onlookers adds another dimension to the work. Their reactions, comments, and curiosity subtly influence the energy of the painting without ever dictating it.The rain intensified at times, but I did not mind. The reflections on the pavement became more pronounced, adding movement and rhythm to the scene. Figures walking toward and away from the Arc de Triomphe created a natural flow, leading the viewer’s eye through the composition. I worked quickly but deliberately, aware that light and atmosphere change constantly in outdoor painting.At one point, the crowd grew so large that Ilse could no longer reach me to hand over a cup of coffee she had thoughtfully brought. We laughed about it later. It was one of those moments that perfectly captured the spirit of the day — unexpected, slightly chaotic, and utterly delightful. Ilse watched from a distance, witnessing not only the painting taking shape, but also the interaction between art and public life.As I painted, I listened. The blend of languages, laughter, questions, and passing footsteps became part of the experience. These sounds, though not visible on the canvas, influenced my brushwork and colour choices. The painting became less about architectural precision and more about atmosphere, emotion, and movement — the essence of Paris street life.Eventually, as the afternoon progressed, I felt the painting had reached its natural conclusion. Plein air work teaches an artist when to stop. Overworking a piece risks losing the spontaneity that gives it life. I packed up my equipment, grateful, slightly tired, and deeply fulfilled.That evening, Ilse and I sat together in our hotel room, reflecting on the day. We spoke about the people we met, the conversations we shared, and the privilege of creating art in such an extraordinary city. There was a quiet sense of gratitude — for the opportunity, for the experience, and for the memories we had created together.Paris never disappoints. It challenges, inspires, and rewards those who are willing to engage with it fully. That rainy day at the Arc de Triomphe was more than just a painting session; it was a reminder of why I paint. Art, at its best, connects people — across cultures, languages, and moments in time.This painting will always carry the echoes of that day: the rain on stone, the shimmer of reflections, the hum of voices from around the world, and the simple joy of being present in a place where art and life intersect so beautifully.