"Texture is my language, and landscapes are my way of honoring the places that bring people back to themselves."

Artist Lisa Elley paints impressionist landscapes full of texture and movement. She captures the beauty of California and scenes from her travels using her signature impasto technique. Lisa grew up on a little farm in New Zealand, where the green countryside shaped her early artistic vision and inspired her to pursue fine arts. Passionate about experiencing new things, she moved to London, New York, and Florida before eventually settling in the San Francisco Bay Area. Lisa works at her studio in the historic San Jose cannery, with a 30-foot ceiling and full of natural light. When not making art, Lisa spends her time with her family.

In this interview, Lisa talks about her routines, inspirations, and journey as an artist.

Tell us a bit about yourself as an artist.

I’m a full-time palette-knife oil painter living on the California coast. My life is a mix of quiet routines, long walks by the ocean, and the colorful chaos of running an art business. When I’m not in the studio, you’ll usually find me wandering through redwood groves, along the beach, researching new travel spots, or experimenting with new ideas for my art business. I’m endlessly inspired by nature, texture, and the emotional resonance of places.

What are you most proud of—whether in art or another part of your life?

I’m most proud of my courage, specifically, the courage to reinvent myself. My art career didn’t happen in a straight line. I built it stroke by stroke, day after day, through recessions, relocations, raising children, and rebuilding parts of my life from the ground up. That perseverance shows up in every painting: bold, textured, unapologetically alive.

Do you have any studio rituals that help you get into a creative flow?

Absolutely. I start with silence. No music at first, just the room, the light, and the smell of oils. I mix colors slowly, almost meditatively, until something in my body settles. Then I usually work standing, moving, letting the knives become extensions of my hands. I often light a candle or open a window to let the breeze in. These little rituals help me drop into a grounded, instinctive state where the work can lead.

How do you structure your day?

My days begin early, usually with tea and a long walk to regulate and clear my mind. Mornings are for painting, when I’m freshest and most connected. Afternoons are for photographing work, shipping, updating my website, or answering collector messages. I give myself more freedom in the evenings, reading, journaling, or planning my next collection. I’ve learned that creativity thrives when the structure is supportive but not rigid.

Where do you find inspiration for your art?

California’s landscapes are my constant muse: the cliffs of Big Sur, the cypress groves, the shifting blues of Monterey Bay. Travel also deeply inspires me. Italy, in particular, has woven itself into my palette and textures. But more than any one location, I’m inspired by atmosphere, the feeling of standing somewhere and knowing it will stay with you.

Tell us about your evolution as an artist.

I began as a traditional brush painter, but the moment I held a palette knife, everything clicked. The immediacy, the texture, the physicality, it unlocked a new language for me. Over the years, my work has grown from impressionistic landscapes into something more immersive and emotional. I’ve expanded into larger scales, deeper palettes, and more sculptural surfaces. Recently, my work has taken on a softer, more refined aesthetic that mirrors my own evolution.

How do you decide when an artwork is finished?

There’s a moment when the painting stops asking for anything. It’s subtle, almost a shift in the air. I step back, and if my eye can travel the surface without snagging on something unresolved, it’s done. When the texture carries emotion but not noise, and the colors breathe together, I know I’ve reached the finish line.

What is the most interesting observation someone has made about your work?

A collector once said my paintings feel like “memories you can touch.” I loved that. It captured the emotional tactility I aim for, work that’s not just seen but felt, physically and emotionally, through the texture, light, and movement of the knives.

Is there an artwork from another artist that has had a significant impact on you?

Gustave Courbet’s The Desperate Man has had a profound impact on me. There’s something about the wild intensity of his brushwork and the unapologetic physicality of the paint that felt like permission. Courbet broke rules, pushed texture, and painted with a kind of raw immediacy that resonated deeply. Discovering his work is what first nudged me toward the palette knife. It showed me that paint can be sculpted, moved, and expressed with boldness, that it can carry emotion through texture alone, and he was one of the first artists to use the knife to paint with.

What’s your favorite museum?

The de Young in San Francisco, it's local, so I can get there more often. The architecture, the light, it's all part of the experience. It’s a place where art, environment, and atmosphere merge seamlessly, and that integration has deeply influenced how I think about the power of place in my own work.

Is there anything else you’d like to share to help viewers better understand your work?

My paintings are invitations to pause, to feel, to breathe. Texture is my language, and landscapes are my way of honoring the places that bring people back to themselves. Every knife stroke is intuitive and embodied. I hope viewers feel the groundedness, the movement, and the quiet emotion woven into each piece.

Discover more artist features on UGallery

If you enjoyed this article about Lisa Elley's life and artwork, we recommend reading about David Thelen and his impressionist Texas landscape paintings and Jesse Aldana, who captures the urban and coastal scenes of California.