In writer-director Kelly Reichardt’s Showing Up, the life of the artist is one of disappointment and misery. The film centers on Lizzy (Michelle Williams), a sculptor preparing for a solo show as she glumly grinds through her make-ends-meet job as an commune-like arts college. As the show approaches, she feels desperately behind in her prep work, in part because all the nettlesome problems in her day-to-day existence, including the persistent inattention her landlord, Jo (Hong Chau), a fellow artist, to a broken water heater in her apartment. Jo is also about to launch an exhibition, but things seem to be going swimmingly for her, making the shadow Lizzy lurks in all the colder. As is the case with the majority of Reichardt’s work, Showing Up is proudly, defiantly small-scale. The conflicts are minor, if occasionally fiercely dramatic, and the most mundane moments are often the most telling. As tension mounts for Lizzy — also driven by her challenging parents (Maryann Plunkett and Judd Hirsch) and the mental deterioration of her brother (John Magaro) — Reichardt keeps the narrative lean and the register tamped down, as if a Safdie brothers movie were alchemized mid-burn from a stick of dynamite to a chunky candle. As much as Showing Up is a rumination on the fleeting triumphs and plentiful indignities of being a creator several concentric circles removed from the brightest point of the spotlight, it’s also a expert character study. Reichardt couldn’t have a better partner for bringing Lizzy to life than Williams. Even as Lizzy earns audience sympathy, she’s challenging — even mildly off-putting — in her prickly anger and withering appraisal of others. Williams plays every detail with a thrumming truthfulness that makes the character relentlessly compelling. This is the fourth film on which Reichardt and Williams have collaborated, and the symbiosis has never been stronger. The film is wryly funny, achingly true, and downright moving, all without ever pressing its points. It’s art.