My job is not respectable. Mr. Torosian Aram relents only after being told by bystanders that his work deserved publicity. The immigrant artists form a close bond across ethnic lines to fight their common enemies. They work in large groups for protection, save their colleagues' chairs during police chases and work over one another's paintings when dissatisfied customers demand a refund. Though his generosity does not quite compare to that of Alphonse Fournaise, the proprietor who took as payment the paintings nobody else wanted, William Tse, owner of the restaurant, does give each artist an extra container of rice at no charge and lets them use the bathroom.
Dinner is eaten in the alley of a nearby office building.
Sometimes, business deals are made over shrimp stir-fry. On this day, Mr. Haruni, a dissident who fled Albania during its own version of the Tiananmen Square massacre and Ms. Wang talked of setting up a shop in a mall. And when the spirit is down, Mr. Haruni, who had to study Chinese and Russian in Albania, livens the atmosphere by reciting revolutionary slogans in Russian and singing Chinese revolutionary songs. When business is slow, artists offer discounts. When she comes to work, around 50th Street and Seventh Avenue, Ms. Lombard makes sure to set up a block away from the rest of the artists.