Daisy de Villeneuve Makes the Personal Pop

Daisy de Villeneuve didn’t so much fall into art as sidestep into it wearing vintage loafers, armed with a felt-tip and a perfectly timed quip. Raised in a creatively charged home where Peter Blake was name-checked and Pop Art wasn’t just a style but a surname, Daisy was practically sketching comebacks before she could spell them. Her medium of choice? Felt-tip pens - the same stuff kids use to vandalise their pencil cases. Except Daisy used them to draw stylishly disaffected women in mid-existential micro-crisis.

She studied at Parsons in New York, where she swapped fashion design for fine art. While pattern-making left her cold, Daisy’s electric blue typewriter and a stash of childhood Sharpies led to a series of illustrated confessions that blurred the line between diary entry and graphic novella. Her breakout book He Said She Said was a witty, acid-inked archive of romantic misfires and social missteps, the kind of illustrated whisper network that made you feel seen, heard, and slightly judged (in the best way).

Since then, Daisy’s work has tangoed through art, fashion, literature, and commercial design like it’s all one giant sketchpad. She’s illustrated Topshop shoeboxes, published cult books (I Should Have Said and He Said She Said both feel like advice columns from your most observant friend), and been exhibited internationally, often on a scale that turns her scratchy lines into gallery-wall megaphones. Felt-tip, for Daisy, isn’t childish; it’s sharp, immediate, and just slightly dangerous, like a secret passed during roll call.

But don’t mistake her aesthetic for softness. Beneath the colour-pop silhouettes and punky bob haircuts is a chronicle of modern girlhood, one that’s emotionally forensic, stylistically out-of-step, and allergic to trend-chasing. If Daisy’s characters could talk, they wouldn’t whisper. They’d smirk, monologue, or ghost you entirely. And honestly? You’d deserve it.

I. THE ORIGIN OF FELT-TIP ATTITUDE

Your portraits feel like they’re caught mid-eye-roll: stylish, defiant, and emotionally specific. When did your drawing voice first develop?

Perfect description, I like it. Around 1999. I was just about to graduate and had a serious case of artist’s block. Then a classmate visited my flat and saw two separate things: some typewritten text on lined school paper and a bunch of felt-tip pen drawings. She casually said, “Why don’t you put these together?” Genius. That spark became my senior project, 14 or 15 scratchy, raw portraits drawn in felt-tip with typewritten text underneath. Real people, just disguised. My dad had given me an electric blue typewriter when I was ten. The text was full of small dramas: dates that ghosted, friends who took digs. It all clicked. A teacher even told me, “Your thesis disappointed me, but I’d like to buy your work.” And that was the start. I moved back to London that summer hoping to turn the series into a book. A year later, a friend let me show the work in her boutique and there I met Pocko Editions. He Said She Said came out in 2001. Ta-da!

II. FELT-TIPS AND FASHION BRANDS

Felt-tip pen isn’t the medium most people associate with high art. Why did you commit to it and what does it let you do that other materials don’t?

I’ve used felt-tip pens since I was three. I won loads of childhood art competitions with them. As a teenager I’d colour envelopes in rainbow ink. My flat’s always scattered with pens. It wasn’t a conscious career choice. Topshop saw He Said She Said and asked me to do their shoeboxes in the same style, quotes and cowboy boots like “Kick him out!” That snowballed. People still raise eyebrows when I say I use felt-tip pens. At dinner parties, they ask if that’s a real job. I just name-drop a few fashion clients and that shuts them up. It’s funny how pompous people can be. I always outline in black Sharpie, and Prismacolour changed my life. Those pens have a soft, watercolour-like texture that I love. Sure, originals fade, but once it’s reproduced, it’s no problem. I’ve blown the artwork up huge and it still looks fantastic, especially when you can see the overlap in the pen strokes.

III. VISUAL VOICE & EMOTIONAL ARCHIVING

Do you think in visuals or dialogue first?

Dialogue, 100%. The words always come first. I scribble them down and save them. Drawing happens later.

Your book I Should Have Said feels like a catalogue of unspoken comebacks. Is it personal catharsis or cultural commentary?

A bit of both. Definitely a personal process - some stories are lifted straight from real life - but I also see it as documenting the emotional climate. Friends have told me they’ve experienced almost identical situations. That book came out in 2015. Since then, all the modern dating lingo has become common: ghosting, gaslighting, breadcrumbing, love bombing. Back then, those words existed, but no one used them like we do now. But that’s exactly what I was illustrating! My friends and I had all lived through it, we just didn’t have the vocabulary yet. People behave badly and get away with it. Maybe the art is my way of saying what I couldn’t say in the moment. I Should Have Said was the sequel to He Said She Said, and it gave voice to my younger self, the one too shy or intimidated to speak up at the time.

IV. HOMEGROWN AESTHETICS

How did growing up in a creatively charged home shape you? And how do you stay creatively charged now in London?

Both my parents worked in fashion and loved architecture, design, and art. I grew up surrounded by books and magazines everything from interiors and graphic design to psychology and cooking. And music. My dad had been a 1970s music producer, so I had his vinyl records to explore. My mum took us to museums and galleries. I vividly remember a trip to The Whitney Museum when I was 14, and I just knew I wanted to go to art school in New York. Now, back in London after a short Paris stint, I stay inspired by being social, going to private views, wandering the V&A or British Museum with a friend and a cup of tea. Lately, I’ve found Kew Gardens incredibly inspiring. I also did some online courses with The School of Life during lockdown and joined a book club.

V. INSIDE OUTSIDER

Your work carries a strong outsider art influence, with a pop sensibility. Who or what shaped that aesthetic?

I’ve always loved outsider and pop art. There’s something wonderfully naïve about outsider art that’s always resonated with me. While living in Paris, I dated a collector and visited a lot of artist studios and fairs. Fascinating. As for pop art: my parents are close with Peter Blake, and I was actually named after his daughter. His work was always around growing up. I also became good friends with the late Derek Boshier. Their influence runs deep.

VI. STYLE VS TRENDS

Your characters feel fashion-aware but out-of-step, like they resist the moment. What’s your relationship to trends?

Spot on. I love clothes but I’m not into trends. If someone wore the same thing as me, I’d immediately donate it. (Regret that now!) I keep my mum’s ‘90s Ralph Lauren shirts in rotation, skip fast fashion, and try to shop sustainably: outlets, charity shops, sample sales. I rarely buy new clothes. If I have something fancy, it was probably gifted or traded for work. The drawings feel current, but the style leans retro - punky, grungy, nerdy, and a bit androgynous.

VII. MEMORY, LEGACY & SCRAPBOOKS

Do you think about legacy? Or are your illustrations more like personal time capsules?

Definitely both. I’ve been archiving everything - drawings, press, photos - by year in brightly coloured filing cabinets. It’s overwhelming, sentimental, and very necessary. Since I was 13, I’ve kept daily journals to track who called, what I did. I’m dyslexic, so handwriting helps me process. I also have a birthday/guestbook where people sign next to a celebrity they share a birthday with: Elvis, Picasso, Madonna. And I love making scrapbooks. Photos? I wish I’d taken more. I lived in downtown New York in the ‘90s and crossed paths with so many artists, musicians, and actors - some now quite famous. I had a front row seat, and no camera.

VIII. IF HER CHARACTERS HAD A SHOW

If your characters had a show - animated, theatre, reality TV - what would it be?

Animated, hands down. Something like Beavis and Butt-Head, with typewriter font speech bubbles and dry humour. The fact that it’s never happened still surprises me. I watched a lot of MTV in America during the summers.

IX. SECRET PROJECTS & MISSED ADVICE

Is there a project you haven’t done but secretly want to?

I studied fashion at Parsons but I was terrible at sewing. Great at mood boards, though! I’d love to do a capsule clothing collection or design luggage. Cooking is another dream. I’d love to illustrate for a cookbook or food magazine. But interiors. That’s my true passion. I want to design a hotel room, style an apartment, anything. I spend more time in museum shops than looking at the art.

What’s a piece of advice you once ignored but now live by?

My mum always said, “Take photos!” I didn’t, and I regret it. But I also wish someone had told me what the life of an artist actually entails. I never had a five-year plan, never really thought long-term. I’ve done a lot, but now I’m trying to sort out logistics: finances, sustainability, all of it. One piece of advice I did follow: “Exhibit whenever you can.” That stuck. I showed work in friends’ homes and pubs early on. I made press releases, faxed editors, handed out flyers. And I still do shows. Last year’s Hairdos exhibit is still up at my friend’s hair salon in Clerkenwell. Punk, bob, crew cut, portraits from my imagination, still growing into their own.