Showing Up

In a quiet Oregon college town, a diligent artist is caught between the demands of an impending exhibition and the everyday pull of the life around her. Lizzy works as a sculptor and art‑administration assistant, pouring countless hours into a series of clay figures that aim to capture the weight and emotion of the human body in motion. The film opens on the rhythm of her studio, where the tactile process of shaping, glazing, and fine‑tuning becomes a meditation on creativity itself, setting a tone that is both earnest and gently humorous.

Living just down the hall, a fellow creator adds a sharp contrast to the atmosphere. Jo, a rival artist with a brisk, outspoken manner, keeps the building alive with constant banter and competing ambitions. Their relationship is a dance of mutual respect and rivalry, each pushing the other toward new artistic possibilities while navigating the practicalities of shared spaces—leaky heaters, late‑night studio sessions, and the occasional uninvited feathered visitor.

Beyond the studio walls, familial ties weave another layer into Lizzy’s world. Her mother, still connected to the college that shaped them both, offers both support and subtle pressure as the exhibition draws near. A visit to her father’s eclectic home introduces a broader, slightly chaotic sense of community, while news of her brother Sean hints at deeper, unresolved family dynamics that linger in the background. These relationships are rendered with a mix of tenderness and comedic observation, emphasizing how personal histories and present responsibilities intersect.

All of these threads—artistic drive, neighborly rivalry, and the pull of family—form a portrait of a life lived in the margins of a major creative moment. The film captures the ordinary miracles found in daily routines, the quiet humor of shared spaces, and the subtle hope that blooms when people, and even the smallest of creatures, are allowed to find their own kind of flight.

Last Updated: October 05, 2025 at 16:50