Double Escalator
A quick shot going up an escalator, somewhere in the north part of the Paris Metro system.
Matt Feldman PhotographyInspiring you to get out there, in the distance, and see it for yourself.
Matt Feldman Photography
A quick shot going up an escalator, somewhere in the north part of the Paris Metro system.
An escalator in the massive Châtelet station in the Paris Metro. In the center of the city, the station was just over 100 years old when I took this…
A distinct splash of colour amidst the muted tones of Davisville station.
A lone passenger departed a late night train at Finch station – the end of the line.
Looking up toward a westbound afternoon train.
At Eglington Station.
In the poorly-lit DC Metro.
Somewhere along the Bloor-Danforth line.
Somewhere in the Budapest metro system.
A long view of the different floors of the Louvre’s Richelieu wing, with modern architecture that’s an unmistakable nod to Louis Kahn and his geometric features.
One of the escalators up to track level at Warden Station.
Just before the closing of the subway doors, at a station on the Bloor-Danforth line.
A couple moving between the East-West and North-South platforms of the Younge-Bloor station.
Shoppers at Le Bon Marche in Paris.
Escalator in the metro station Vieux Lyon/Cathédrale Saint-Jean, leading to the funicular tram to Fourvière.
The sign says “The most important collection of modern and contemporary art in Europe.” That both says it all, and is merely a beginning — a portal to…
Three levels of the Hôtel de Ville Metro station, one of the original eight stations in the city’s system when the first section was first opened in 1900.
Outside the Navy Archives/Penn Quarter Metro station after a few hours of snowfall.
I am selflessly volunteering. It starts with some kind of twitch, I think, and from what I can gather, most of you are afflicted with some form of this thing, too: After going some while without being on a plane across an ocean, without having another stamp in the passport, without the struggle of a strange language in a strange land, without the gastrointestinal chaos that inevitably comes from cuisine found just the other side of one’s sphere of microbial familiarity, the twitch metastasizes.
