Diana Lisa
Where the landscape mirrors the self, and the art gives it a voice.
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An afternoon all to myself. Birdsong, the trail voices of passing hikers, and anyone who wanted to look over my shoulder was welcome.
I keep coming back to this lagoon. Different light, different seasons, different moods. But this afternoon was one of those that makes you understand why. The meadow grasses were doing that thing where they glow red and gold like they're lit from inside. The water sat quiet behind them. The coastal hills rolled soft in the distance.
Some places just keep asking you back.
Original oil on panel, painted and mounted inside an Altoids tin. About 3.5 x 2.25 inches. Signed on the back. Ships carefully packed.
One of a kind. When it sells, it's gone.
This was painted from a photo I took at my daughter's wedding. Coconino National Forest, Sedona. A public park. No venue. No catering. Just an officiant and his wife with a camera.
It had rained all night. All morning too. We kept checking the sky, doing that thing where you refresh the weather app like it's going to change its mind.
It did.
The moment she walked out, the rain stopped. The air cleared. The sun came through and hit those red rocks like it had somewhere to be. Those horizontal bands of coral and rose and white — that was the actual sky. I didn't invent any of it.
I painted it small because that day didn't need anything extra. It was already everything.
Original oil on panel, painted and mounted inside an Altoids tin. About 2.5 × 3.5 inches. Signed on the back. Ships carefully packed.
One of a kind. When it sells, it's gone.
Thanksgiving morning at San Elijo Lagoon. I thought I would have it to myself with families prepping for the feast and all that. Spoiler alert, it was full.
The fog had come in heavy and obscured everything. The people, the far shore, the rest of the landscape. Just grey and mist.
Then out on a surfaced marsh, one egret. Standing completely still. It seemed to say you can't see everything else right now. Just focus on me.
So I did. And I painted it. And I have not forgotten that morning.
Original oil on panel, painted and mounted inside an Altoids tin. About 3.5 x 2.25 inches. Signed on the back. Ships carefully packed.
One of a kind. When it sells, it's gone.