Good movies — or, perhaps, it is better said “true” movies — about artists are few and far between. Narrative films, particularly when they take on historical figures, are either prone to hyperbole or favor hyperbolic artists. From Charles Laughton galumphing his way through “Rembrandt” to Kirk Douglas chewing the scenery alongside Anthony Quinn in “Lust for Life” to Salma Hayek glamming it up as “Frida,” movies about painters and sculptors tell us more about artistic stereotypes maintained by the broader culture than about the workaday lives of creative individuals.

There are exceptions. Mike Leigh’s “Mr. Turner,” his take on the 19th-century British landscape painter J.M.W. Turner, hit a few grace notes, as did Andrei Konchalovsky’s “Sin,” a near masterwork about a hardscrabble Michelangelo. Friends point to “The Horse’s Mouth,” a story that, in my estimation, survives better as the novel by Joyce Cary upon which it was based. (A little Alec Guinness goes a long way with me.) 

Still, most artists lead lives that don’t lend themselves to the histrionics seemingly mandated by the big screen. There’s a reason we have a movie like “Surviving Picasso” and not, say, “Going to Sleep at a Reasonable Hour with Braque.”

All of which is to say that “Showing Up,” the new film from director Kelly Reichardt, is pretty much on the nose in terms of the quiet lives of disgruntlement led by most artists. Fat bank accounts, blue chip investments, ritzy art fairs in sunny locales, and splashy covers on the New York Times Magazine — these are the province of the art scene’s 1 percent. Most artists get by catch-as-catch-can, doing what they need to do in order to keep their hand in the game, pay the rent, and, maybe, just maybe, exhibit their work in a public venue.

Michelle Williams is Lizzy, a figurative sculptor who works in ceramics. She’s renting an apartment from Jo (Hong Chau), a fellow artist more dedicated to furthering her career than her duties as a landlady. Their lives are centered on an art school/community center at Portland, Oregon, overseen by Lizzy’s mom Jean (Maryann Plunkett, the epitome of a frazzled small-scale bureaucrat). Lizzy works alongside mom, designing flyers for visiting artists and taking care of niggling administrative tasks. She’s a glum sort, our heroine.

Both Jo and Lizzy are prepping for upcoming one-person exhibitions. Actually, Jo has more than one exhibition coming down the pike, a fact that Lizzy takes note of with grim resentment. Lizzy’s dad Bill (the ever dependable Judd Hirsch) putters around his Oregon home, hosting ne’er-do-well acquaintances and ruing, perhaps, his glory days as a potter. Then there’s brother Sean (John Magaro), who — well, there’s something off about Sean. He’s a loner given to conspiracy theories and reruns of “The Twilight Zone.” At one point, Sean starts digging a sizable hole in his backyard. He’s an artist too, you know.

Who isn’t an artist within the cloistered bubble in which Lizzy, Jo, and sundry hangers-on congregate? Don’t expect a satirical answer to that question. “Showing Up” isn’t “Waiting for the Artist,” the pitch-perfect takedown of art world pretension that was part of IFC’s “Documentary Now” series; nor is it “Paint,” the eminently avoidable parody of PBS perennial Bob Ross recently released in theaters. 

Ms. Reichardt has crafted a picture that is as diffuse as you might fear from an indie production, but also gentler than you might imagine, and gratifyingly dry. Whatever shtick that persists vis-a-vis family dramas is conditioned by the petty injustices, inescapable disappointments, and hard-won rewards of the artist’s life.

“Showing Up” is less a comedy than a statement of fact. Ms. Reichardt has, in important regards, brought us a most unconventional picture.