J. Le Petit

This French printmaker had a habit of signing small—so small their initials “J.L.” show up in the corner of crowded scenes like a shy handwave. They spent years carving playful images of everyday Paris life, from barbershop queues to street-cleaner parades, all inked on paper so thin you can almost see light through it. One sheet from 1794, now in the British Museum, squeezes forty neighbors into a single café corner; tap the print and zoom in—you’ll spot a man polishing shoes while a dog steals a sausage right under his nose.