Page 22 of The Artist's Rival

After finding out that Ellie’s studio comes with a parking lot, Tatiana is in a much better mood. Ascending the stairs, she’s not even mad about the lack of an elevator.

–

“Hi,” Ellie welcomes her, opening the door. “You’re almost on time!” she mocks. She is smug and perfect.

“What do you mean, I am on time.”

“It’s 10 past 10, but that’s perfectly fine,” Ellie says, letting Tatiana pass through.

“I supplied the studio with another chair,” she adds, showing the way.

Tatiana stands for a moment, taking the space in. It’s a simple, wall-less space, entirely committed to letting in as much light as possible. The gigantic windows flood the room with light, the space remains uncluttered—she can find only a simple desk, a pair of easels, and a cabinet for supplies.

“You’re insane,” Tatiana concludes. “How do you even keep this space so clean?”

Ellie smiles proudly, holding tidiness as an important value.

“To be fair, it is quite new. But I like to keep things neat,” she admits.

Tatiana shakes her head, approaching the desk. There are some sketches lying around and printed pictures of the gallery room they’ll have available for the project. She sits down, taking some in her hands.

“Have you already started thinking it over?” she asks, slightly annoyed at herself for not doing the same.

“Yes, you can see all the sketches I made. I think it would be nice to incorporate the space into the process, since we’re in the unique position of knowing where we’ll exhibit.”

Tatiana nods.

“So, what do you think of painting the same spaces, but each of us in our own style, then exhibiting them back to back?” she suggests.

“That’s a bit banal, don’t you think?” Ellie stops and glances at Tatiana, “I’m sorry, that was unnecessary. I just think maybe we should do something more original.”

Tatiana shrugs, not particularly attached to the idea either way. In truth, she’s not good at conceptualizing her art, she usually allows herself to go with the flow of her creation, not predicting or planning anything.

“Listen, I’m not good at this,” she says. “I usually go with my impulses.”

“That’s okay,” Ellie smiles. “I do the same. I rarely plan my work.”

They sit still, not sure how to conceptualize a collaborative project this way and still give it their unique essence.

“How about we blend our work in a unique way,” Tatiana suggests, “by painting the other’s sketch?”

Ellie sits back, pondering. She keeps playing with the rings on her fingers, twisting and turning them around. Tatiana sits transfixed by them, the seemingly measured and controlled intervals with which Ellie touches each ring.

“It is a pretty simple idea,” she admits, “but I think it can grow into something interesting.”

“We shouldn’t paint landscapes,” fires Tatiana, suddenly certain of the course their work should take. “That’s too obvious and we choose similar subjects anyway,” she adds.

“Oh, that’s interesting,” Ellie puts her head in her hands, ready to listen.

“I have some barely started or barely conceptualized work, I’m sure you do, too,” Tatiana continues. “We can make an exchange and thus fuse the art into something completely new.”

Ellie seems to consent to the idea. Tatiana feels relieved, wanting to work on the paintings already, instead of spending hours on debating the concept. She feels her best when actually painting.

“Should we meet another time then, with the sketches ready?” Ellie asks, looking around her studio. “I don’t know if I have a lot of suitable ideas. The last one…” She pauses.

“The last one?” Tatiana prompts, surprised by the sudden pause.

“I grew kind of angry with it, because of you, to be honest.”