n 1952, Douglas was in his second year of what was to become permanent residency in France. Having spent six months living and working au pair on a farm in foothills of the French Riviera, and taught English at an elite boys’ school in Paris, he was becoming acclimatised. By mid-year, he decided to dedicate himself completely to painting and no longer rely on other jobs to get by. Later he recalled: “From then on came the years of inevitable vicissitudes, allowing me to have experiences of life in everything – from palaces to trash cans. The stretches of hardship had the effect of confirming me in what I did and always will do: paint.” Always an acute observer, Douglas was now seeing beyond the postcard sights and scenes and starting to portray life in France as the locals lived it – particularly in his new hand-to-mouth existence as he struggled to find a foothold in the European art market, often reduced to making choices whether to eat or buy more painting materials. Douglas never saw himself as miserable or destitute, even in his most desperate times – he was fixed on a certain course and found the experience deeply uncomfortable but also richly illuminating. In this frame of mind, immersed in the squalor of city’s underbelly for the first time, he would have been very conscious of the wretchedness of those around him, and identified with this boy. The years after World War II were harrowing for many poor families and displaced people seeking refuge in France, with food and goods rationing continuing into the 1950s, and the economy shattered. Of course, there have always been beggars on the streets of Paris, homeless children and professional tramps. And no end of gullible tourists, either. For this urchin with the imploring eyes, the tall, obviously foreign stranger would have to be a good prospect for a handout. ‘Street Urchin’ does not appear to have been exhibited in New Zealand, unless perhaps at Douglas’ solo exhibition in Andrew Brooke’s new Gallery 91 (Cashel Street) Christchurch in June-July 1959, for which no catalogue has been found. A review of the show in The Press on 3 July 1959 notes: ‘Mr MacDiarmid works in floating patches of colour and line. He applies the paint mainly with a knife, doing so with verve and unusual subtlety. He does not use the trowel-and-mortar method of knife painting commonly employed by New Zealand painters; he sweeps the paint on to the very smooth canvas which he uses with broad, sometimes semi-transparent strokes.’ However, it is more likely that the painting came to New Zealand early in 1956, when his close friend and former lover, composer Douglas Lilburn returned home to Wellington from an overseas sabbatical with a bundle of paintings in his suitcases for private sale. Lilburn and Douglas’ university music professor Frederick Page (husband of his first painting mentor Evelyn Page) acted as MacDiarmid’s unofficial art agents in New Zealand for some years, selling paintings within their personal and professional circles to keep their young friend afloat. Anna Cahill Biographer | Colours of a Life: The Life and Times of Douglas MacDiarmid (2018)