Lisa Alonzo: Painting with Frosting to Challenge Perception and Indulge the Senses
Lisa Alonzo (b. 1984) was raised in Northern California and earned her BFA in painting from the Academy of Art in San Francisco. Alonzo uses pastry tips and cake decorating tools to create her paintings, which examine themes of consumption and our illusory relationship with reality. Her work has been shown internationally and widely across the U.S., including exhibitions in New York, Miami, San Francisco, and Chicago. Her work is held in public collections such as the 21c Museum and The Federal Reserve.
Alonzo’s paintings have been featured in numerous publications, including Create! Magazine, American Art Collector, I Like Your Work catalog, and New American Paintings. She currently lives and works in Maine.
Artist Statement
As a child, I was enamored by frosting. On birthdays, I wanted that corner piece of cake and had dreams of becoming either a librarian or a cake decorator. My obsession with the sculptural nature of frosting continued in art school with my adoption of pastry tips and cake decorating tools to create my paintings. I utilize these tools to address topics such as environmental toxins, the propaganda value of money, WWII, and whistleblowers.
I enjoy using my unique painting technique to create tension. My work explores a myriad of unsavory themes and makes them more palatable by rendering them as heavily frosted confections. I am currently working on a series of still-life paintings that are meant to be especially indulgent—rich in symbolism, texture, patterns, and saturated color. The overarching theme connecting my body of work is an examination of consumption—of information, goods, and our historic inability to decipher truth from fiction. By piping acrylic gel medium onto the surface with pastry bags and tips, I create an enticing visual and tactile experience for the viewer. The end result is a painting that looks deceptively good enough to eat—an abundance of peaks, starbursts, flowers, pointillistic and rhythmic dots, and ribbons of graduated color draped over decadent mounds of paint masquerading as frosting.
Interview
What inspires you to explore the tension between beauty and difficult truths in your work?
I believe it’s because beauty and discomfort seem to repel each other. It’s rare to see them coexist in the same space. As humans, we’re naturally drawn to beauty, but there’s got to be more to it than that. There has to be a balance. We don’t want to spend all our time immersed in challenging or painful subject matter, but at the same time, living in a world entirely of beauty can feel hollow. One needs the other to be fully appreciated. Life without struggle lacks depth and meaning. In today’s world, many have been led to a life of too much comfort, and that will only make the future more difficult for them. I often think of a quote by G. Michael Hopf: “Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. And weak men create hard times.”
So, I try to bring both beauty and uncomfortable truths together in my work. It’s the tension between them that I find most exciting. I want the beauty to draw the viewer in but also lead them toward ideas they might not have cared to explore otherwise.
How do you approach creating your still-life paintings, and what role does symbolism play in them?
I begin with an idea in mind and start by exploring fabrics on Spoonflower, a platform that offers thousands of artist-designed prints, which can be printed on everything from wallpaper to fabric. I always find inspiration there, using these designs in my still-life setups. From that point, I collect objects—books, trinkets, anything I can find—often scouring eBay or my own home. For things I can’t track down or that are too costly, I turn to AI-generated images, which has been a surprising creative push. Bringing my vision to life is trickier than it seems, and it challenges me in new ways. Once I have all the elements, I photograph them and stitch them together in Photoshop, carefully considering texture, surface detail, and how to convey depth.
Symbolism plays an important role in my work, almost like an inside joke. I use it to explore current themes, pay homage to past artists, or reference their concepts. It’s also a way to work through ideas I might not voice out loud. While symbolism is important, it’s always secondary to creating a visually striking piece. I often feel like I’m not fully in control of what the work becomes—I’m just a conduit for ideas. Given how much information I take in every day, it’s interesting to consider how that shapes what I create.
Your current series investigates truth and fiction in the age of AI. What inspired you to explore this theme, and what do you hope viewers take away from it?
For a long time, I’ve been fascinated by the blurred line between the real and the artificial—deep fakes, propaganda, and deception. I realized that most people can’t tell the difference, and even those who think they can probably can’t either. Now, with the rise of AI, the level of deception is soaring. AI is both thrilling and terrifying. The fact that we have no idea what life will look like in 10 or 20 years is wild.
I was told as a student that a great piece of art could only have been created in that moment in time, and so, I want these pieces to reflect this collision of the two worlds taking place. I want to use AI to elevate my work and help me create something that would not otherwise have been possible. Ultimately, I hope viewers are inspired by the possibilities ahead—not just fearful of them. I want to celebrate being alive in this unique moment in time, and I hope that sense of appreciation becomes contagious.
How has your use of photography and AI-generated imagery influenced your artistic process and the stories you tell?
Using AI has really helped me refine my technical painting skills, and it’s also sharpened my editing abilities. I’ve realized that I have the power to use paint to replicate any image I can imagine, and the freedom to create anything I conceive is incredibly liberating—but this can feel overwhelming, and I can easily lose focus. I’ve had to become more intentional with my messaging—really considering what I reference in art history and why. I’ve also had to learn the limitations of image generation and how to craft better prompts. Surprisingly, using AI has turned out to be more challenging than I initially expected.
What message or experience do you hope your audience connects with when viewing your work?
In a time when reality feels increasingly uncertain, I want my work to feel undeniably human—imperfect, imprecise, and full of character. Since so many of us engage with the world through screens, one aspect of my work I hope people appreciate is its tactile quality. Each painting typically features at least 10 different textures—things you can see AND touch. In an era of instant gratification, I want it to stand as something that took time, thought, and care to create. I want viewers to encounter something truly beautiful and captivating, something that draws them in. Above all, I hope to inspire people—to slow down, to reflect, and to always question everything.
