The work here keeps circling the same handful of obsessions: yellow cabs stalled in a canyon of steel, the Flatiron’s wedge coming through rain, the Chrysler’s spire catching the last of the light, a crowd folding under umbrellas outside a lit theatre. Paul paints New York after weather — wet tarmac doing the work of a mirror, neon bleeding across a road, a street in shadow with one window still gold.

The range is deliberate. Large mixed-media originals on boxed canvas and aluminium, worked with metallic leaf so the skyline shifts as you move past it; small, fast studies in ink, gouache and charcoal on Indian paper, made on location; and signed, numbered prints of the pieces people kept asking for after the original had gone. Most are on the island itself — Midtown, Fifth Avenue, Broadway, Times Square — with the bridges and the waterline for the wider views.