Page 15 of The Artist's Rival

“I don’t know what to think about her. She can be very mean.” Ellie looks away. “I told you that.”

Each time Ellie talks about Tatiana, she’s brought to the point of mingling the personal and the artistic, which begins annoying her. She annoys herself, really, always trying to stay in one track but soon bending over to the other. She wants to talk about Tatiana’s art philosophy alone yet ends up grieving over her personality.

“It’s always easier to like people,” her father says pensively. “If you’re unsure, choose love. Really, sometimes it’s that simple. Especially among artists, you have to be understanding.”

He takes out a sturdy, wooden box of chess from behind the table.

“Look,” he says with a bright smile. “Should we?”

They play, winning interchangeably until they get bored and realize they’ve been sitting in the cafe far too long. Ellie goes up to the register to pay, returning in her thoughts to her father’s advice.

“There’s another side to this,” she says, getting back to him. “I think I’m very insecure about my style next to her,” she sighs. “Which is ridiculous, I mean, considering how long I’ve been doing this. I’m so much older and more experienced than her.”

Her father shakes his head.

“What are you insecure about? People love your art, look at the two exhibitions you recently opened.”

“Yes, but I recently started painting something new, and it really seems influenced by Tatiana Khan. I don’t know how to feel about that, letting my art be so fragile.”

They get outside, welcomed by a pleasant breeze. Ellie’s father gestures to the nearby park, offering a walk before they part.

“Maybe you’re not letting your art be fragile,” he says after a while, “maybe you’re letting it be flexible? You know, life lies in being able to bend and change form, stiff things are dead things.”

“Maybe you’re right, I shouldn’t overthink it,” she agrees.

The park grows crowded with children after school and young workers having their lunch breaks. The overall ambience is particularly joyful, play and laughter enveloping Ellie and her father in a pleasant atmosphere. Their steps remain unrushed, savoring the blissfully calm moment together. Unfortunately, the evening before keeps weighing her down.

“I think I do rush things when stressed,” she confesses. Her throat feels tight.

“Don’t we all,” her father laughs. “Did something happen?”

“I um.. well.. had sex with Tatiana yesterday, and I don’t know where that leads us, or where I want it to lead us.”

“Oh!” He stops for a moment. “Well, that’s complicated. At least it explains a lot of things between you two.”

“I think I should take a break from all this and just focus on my painting,” Ellie finally decides.

“If that’s what you think you need, that’s what you should do,” her father agrees.

–

She drives him to his train station, telling him in detail about the exhibition’s reception and how well regarded it is by critics. All that praise got eclipsed by Tatiana’s scorn, unjustly, she realizes. How easy it is to let a single negative thing overshadow her hard work.

“Tell Alexandra to be proud,” she smiles, “she’s a part of the project.”

They say their goodbyes and promise to see each other again soon. Ellie misses painting around her childhood home, where there is plenty of beautiful nature and landscapes only waiting to be captured by an observant eye. She’s been thinking of acquiring a house somewhere in the area, perhaps when she’s older. To have her own family settled among the lakes and forests of her youth.

Once her father disappears into the building, she contemplates driving to the studio. Seeing the cloudy sky, however, she heads home, on her way buying baskets of flowers. She misses the natural environment of her home, feeling separated from nature in the city, where every green patch seems scarce and unwelcoming. The parks seem tame and miserably small compared to the grand forests only a few minutes away from her old house. Perhaps the quiet force of nature imbued her paintings with the same kind of sensitivity, making her question the necessity of the screaming boldness she sometimes encounters within her contemporary peers. She begins suspecting that Tatiana, having grown up here, in the city, learned its violent language. Ellie wonders about her heritage as well, how it influenced the way she developed artistically. Perhaps for her, and where she has come from, the delicate expression stands as more revolutionary. In her art, she allows her brushstrokes to be gentle, unlike the course her life may have taken.

Having arrived at this thought, she decides to abandon the bold sketches of waterfalls.

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

7

TATIANA

Having avoided the sticky subject of Ellie Matthews for the whole day, Tatiana finally sits down to paint. Picking out the brushes, her thoughts slowly, quietly, settle down on the tracks leading towards the passionately avoided subject. Ellie’s hand— she took all her gold rings off and then…

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