A huge French bulldog appeared on the wall. His ears almost reached the ceiling, his nose was the size of a pillow, and his expression was unmistakably bossy.
Pai stopped. The bulldog stopped too.
Pai turned his head. The stranger copied him, without any permission whatsoever.
“Mikhail, look, we have an exhibition,” said Dilyara. “One artist, one work, but what a scale!”
Pai stepped sideways. The enormous bulldog slid across the wall.
Mikhail moved the desk lamp slightly. The ears on the wall grew even longer.
“Let's call it ‘Modesty,’” he suggested.
Pai sat down. He did not approve of that title. In his opinion, “A Leader in His Place” suited the work much better.
Dilyara raised her hand, and the silhouette of a bird appeared beside the bulldog.
Pai looked at the bird. Then at the hand. Then back at the bird. He quickly worked out the secret of art, but decided not to spoil the humans' evening: they were trying so hard.
“We have a very serious viewer,” Mikhail observed.
“That's not a viewer. That's the artist inspecting the hanging.”
A minute later, Pai lay down beside Dilyara. The enormous bulldog vanished from the wall, leaving just two little ears.
“Minimalism,” she said.
“No, the artist's tired,” Mikhail replied.
The exhibition closed without a formal speech. Pai got a stroke, and the lamp went back in place.
The painting turned out to be temporary. The fee was quite real.