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✨ Diane André: The Quiet Brushstroke That Still Echoes Today



There are some artists you never meet yet somehow feel like you’ve known forever.They become part of your studio, part of the way you teach, part of the way you breathe when you’re standing in front of a blank canvas.


For me, Diane (Wilke) André is one of those artists.

I never had the privilege of meeting her — she passed many years before I ever picked up my first palette knife. Everything I’ve learned about her came from the words written by her daughter in her obituary, from archived materials at Alexander Art, and from the old videos I’ve watched over and over again. I’ll link those sources below, because her story deserves to be read in her family’s own words and preserved through the voices of the people who knew her.

But what I can tell you is this:

Diane André became one of the quiet anchors in the wet-on-wet world, a gentle force who helped shape a generation of painters simply by being exactly who she was.


🌿 A Life Discovered Through Stories and Strokes

Diane grew up in Southern California before moving to Oregon in her teen years, where her love of art blossomed in high school. After graduation she went to work in sales, married, became a mother, and slowly carved a path toward becoming a professional artist — one obstacle at a time.

Her daughter, Barb, wrote that “when she found a problem, she found a way around it.”And that sentence has stayed with me. It tells you everything about the way Diane moved through the world.

She didn’t bulldoze through her dreams.She softly persisted until they opened for her.


🎨 Bill Alexander’s First Master Artist

One of the most beautiful pieces of her story is her time with Bill Alexander. Diane wasn’t just another student; she became Bill’s very first Master Artist. From 1978 through 1986, she traveled across America teaching his technique — long before most people even knew what wet-on-wet was.

In 1986, Alexander Art recorded 11 full shows with Diane at Bill’s home in Powell River. If you listen closely in those old recordings, you can hear Bill’s chickens wandering around in the background, grounding the moment in an unexpected kind of charm.

Those shows were later digitized, along with hundreds of others, ensuring that her teaching — her voice, her pace, her way of seeing — wouldn’t be lost.

And I’m grateful for that, because without those videos, so much of her would have remained invisible.


🌸 The Magic of Her Palette

One of the first things I noticed watching Diane paint was her palette.

It was — and I say this lovingly — an organized mess.Not chaos. Not sloppiness. But a swirl of color only she could understand.

She could wiggle her brush into what looked like a wild smear of paint and somehow lift out exactly the right shade — something subtle, something unexpected, something perfect. It always felt a little like watching a magician reveal a trick without ever giving away the secret. Her colors came alive through instinct, not calculation.

And I think that’s part of why she resonated with so many people.

Diane painted the way she lived — with intuition, confidence, gentleness, and a quiet kind of wonder.


🌄 A Third Voice That Helps Students Understand

In my own studio, when I teach wet-on-wet, people often hear two voices: Bill and Bob.

Bill explains things through passion and power.Bob explains them through calm and reassurance.

And then there’s Diane, the third voice — the bridge between the two.

Her phrasing was different. Her approach was softer. And sometimes her quiet explanations solved a problem my students had been wrestling with all afternoon. She offered another angle, another method, another way of saying the same truth:

There is no single “correct” way to paint.There is your way.And it’s enough.

Watching her videos — especially the ones with other students painting behind her — reminds my own students that mistakes are part of the process, that every brush has a rhythm, and that everyone learns at a different pace.

Diane brings humanity into the room with us.


🌥️ The Episode That Lives On in My Classes


If you’ve painted with me before, you’ve heard me talk about Season 4, Episode 11 of The Joy of Painting.It’s one of the few episodes featuring aspens — a little love letter to Colorado if there ever was one.

But it’s her clouds that I share most often.

They’re simple, forgiving, and perfect for beginners who feel intimidated by the sky. I’ve watched those clouds help a nervous first-timer finally exhale and realize, “I can do this.” And I always say, “This is Diane’s way of doing clouds.” Her teaching still makes its way into my studio, long after she’s gone.


💛 Strength in the Hardest Moments

Diane’s life was not easy. Around age forty, she was diagnosed with Guillain–Barré syndrome, a rare and debilitating disease. Then came the years of cancer — nearly two decades of it — and yet she fought with grace, humor, and a deep desire to help people.

Her daughter wrote about how Diane didn’t believe in regrets, only in learning. How she encouraged uniqueness. How she loved alternative perspectives and delighted in making people laugh. How she was the kind of listener who made you feel truly heard.

Most of all, she wrote about how Diane fought to live long enough to meet her new grandson, Kayden.She did.And their short time together was described as “very special.”

That detail alone tells you everything about Diane’s heart.


🌿 What She Leaves Us

Diane André passed away on February 28, 2008, but her legacy lives in the people she taught, the videos that preserved her voice, the painters who still learn from her today, and the daughter, grandchildren, mother, and sisters who loved her fiercely.

And the Alexander Art tribute to her is here:https://www.alexanderart.com/go/daily-tips-day-531-diane

Her story isn’t one of loud fame or sweeping recognition.It’s a story of gentleness, persistence, artistry, and joy.A story of someone who made painting feel safe.Possible.Deeply human.

Every time I pick up a brush, every time I show a student how to make a simple cloud, every time I remind someone that there are many ways to paint the same idea, I think — knowingly or not — I’m carrying a little piece of Diane with me.

Here’s to Diane André, the soft voice who still speaks through every brushstroke.


Keep those happy trees alive! - Hope

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