It was a strange thing thought Lowry, one minute he was an old man in Salford in the midst of a conversation with one of his paintings. The next moment he was standing in the Museum of Modern Art in New York, talking to the same painting. Yet now he was a young art graduate.
When he left the gallery Lowry saw shapes and shadows and matchstick men and women. He unpacked his I-pad and started to sketch, deft strokes saw a new world appear. Gone was the smog, instead the sun shone in his work, yet the matchstick people remained.