Danii Pollehn always wanted to draw for a living. She just didn't believe it was possible. So she studied fashion design, worked as a stylist, a textile designer, an editorial assistant, and a string of minimum wage jobs in between — spending fifteen years building careers she didn't want before finally committing to the one she did. Based in Portugal, she now works as an illustrator with a practice built on bold colour, intuitive mark-making, and paper cut collage.
What shapes Danii's approach isn't a methodology, it's a refusal to chase trends, to bend toward approval, to optimise for algorithms. Her process is almost entirely intuitive: brush strokes and marker and collage finding direction as they go. The result is a visual language that's unmistakably hers — vivid, unapologetic, always somehow balanced despite pushing right to the edge. She arrived here the long way, and that journey sits inside the work.
Can you tell us a little about your first few steps in your career. Was there a moment or experience when you realised this was what you'd do as a career?
What lessons from your career have most shaped your style and approach?
Surely to never give up! Also Perfectionism is a waste of time - for me at least!Another big lessons I've learned is that style isn't something you find. It reveals itself slowly. It's the residue of years of making, experimenting, failing, observing and staying curious. It shifts depending on what you're absorbing at the time - can be anything, whatever floats your boat!I've also learned that if someone doesn't like my work, it doesn't mean the work is bad. It simply means it doesn't align with their taste - it´s not personal.
There will always be people who doubt what you're doing or question your direction. Their opinion only becomes powerful if you decide it is!Also from years of posting on social media I learnt that forcing yourself to create what you think people want, only blocks the possibility of real connection and growth. It once led me onto a path that made me feel very uncomfortable with my own work and I definitely lost myself. It was a rough awakening and took quite some time to come back from and develop a body of work and the confidence to keep going!So rather than chasing trends, algorithms or a fixed style, I try to chase alignment and what feels good to me. I want the work to feel honest, alive and true to what genuinely interests me.
Ironically, the more specific and authentic the work becomes, the more people seem to connect with it. In a world that increasingly rewards optimization and imitation, I think originality comes from trusting your own perspective and giving it space to evolve.
Tell us about the core values or philosophies that guide your creative practice.
I want people to look at my illustrations and feel a sense of freedom, that everything is possible, that life can be vivid and expansive! That's why I work with bold, unapologetic colours and compositions that are perhaps a little too much, but always somehow balanced. There's a thread that runs through everything I make, a visual language that I hope is unmistakably mine.
What I refuse to do is chase trends or bend to other people's expectations. Staying true to what genuinely excites me is not stubbornness but rather the whole point. That authenticity is what gives the work its energy, and I believe it's what people actually connect with.
What needs to change, so emerging and under-represented creative professionals have more opportunity, are seen and heard?
Accessibility needs to improve and not just in terms of who gets a seat at the table, but in how the entire system is structured around emerging creatives. In illustration especially, entry-level opportunities are almost non-existent. There are wonderful platforms championing emerging artists, TDK being a beautiful example, but even with that visibility, so many illustrators still struggle with confidence, whether that's around the value of their work, how to price it, how to negotiate, or simply how to find clients.
A lot of that insecurity doesn't come from within, it comes from the language that has surrounded creative careers for generations. The narrative that you can't make a living from it, that you're not good enough, that art is a luxury rather than a profession, that messaging does real damage, and it disproportionately affects those who already have fewer resources or less representation to fall back on.There's another pattern worth naming: the same faces tend to appear everywhere on social media, on agency rosters, on speaker line-ups, which creates the illusion that only a small circle of people are truly successful. But that's not the reality. It's simply who has been given the platform. The creative world is vast, and there is room for so much more talent, perspective, and voices than what currently gets amplified.It's also worth asking ourselves a harder question about our own habits, who we follow, share, and celebrate online and in real life. Do we genuinely connect with that work, or have we been told it's good so many times that we've stopped questioning it? Algorithms and industry gatekeepers shape our taste more than we realise. Actively seeking out and supporting work that moves us rather than work that is simply everywhere is one of the most powerful things we can do to shift the balance.
The honest truth is that many people can make a living from creative work, and there is enormous value in what we do. What needs to change is the story we tell emerging creatives from the very beginning, one that equips them with business skills alongside creative ones, that normalises talking about money, and that actively celebrates diverse voices rather than waiting for them to prove themselves worthy of the mainstream.
How important is it that creative professionals find their unique voice?
Looking ahead, what do you think are the key factors that will influence change for creative professionals?
I think we’re entering a phase where the definition of “creative professional” is getting stretched in every direction at once. The changes won’t come from one big shift, but from several forces colliding.
One of the biggest is obviously technology, especially AI. Not just as a tool, but as something that changes expectations around speed, output and what “good enough” means. That creates pressure, but also a counter-movement: work that feels unmistakably human will become more valuable again. Imperfect, expressive, emotionally specific work will stand out in a way it maybe didn’t before.
Another factor is independence. More creatives are building their own ecosystems, audiences and income streams instead of relying on traditional gatekeepers. That comes with freedom, but also requires a different mindset: you’re not just making the work, you’re shaping how it exists in the world.
Attention is another big one. It’s fragmented, fast, and constantly pulled in a thousand directions. That will continue to shape not just how work is seen, but what kind of work survives. Clarity and emotional immediacy will matter more than complexity for complexity’s sake.
And then there’s something more subtle: a shift in values. I think we’ll see more creatives prioritizing alignment over visibility, sustainability over burnout culture, and depth over constant output. The ones who last won’t necessarily be the ones who make the most, but the ones who manage to stay connected to why they started in the first place.
How much does your city influence your work?
The city I live in influences my work less like a subject matter and more like a tempo.
It seeps in through rhythm, light, and the way people move through space. I don’t usually draw literal city scenes, but I think the atmosphere shows up anyway: the color sensibility, the looseness, the energy between structure and spontaneity.
What I find interesting is that influence isn’t always direct. It’s not “I live here, therefore I draw this.” It’s more like absorption. Conversations in cafés, the pacing of everyday life, the contrast between calm and intensity, even the weather on repeat—all of that slowly becomes part of how I see.
At the same time, I try not to let place define me too tightly. If anything, I think my work benefits from tension: being rooted somewhere, but also mentally moving between places, references, and worlds. That in-between space keeps things open, which is where my work tends to feel most alive.
How much does your culture influence your work?
Tell us some of your favourite, creative professionals and inspiring places in your city!
I just love to walk the streets in Spring, Summer and Autumn. See where I end up and explore restaurants, cafés and meet new people. Nature around here is quite spectacular actually so it is always great to just go somewhere and explore freely. There is also tons of great Galleries such as Underdogs Gallery, and Museums that always spark new inspiration such as the MAAT or Gulbenkian. There is so many incredible talented creatives here in Portugal such Joana Vasconcelos, Add fuel and so many others. Can only recommend checking out more if you have the time. I'm always blown away by how much creativity and talent is found in Portugal.
I also just love browsing around which feels like a mini vacation every time!
What should emerging creative professionals keep in mind as they begin their design career?
First: don’t confuse early noise with direction.
In the beginning, everything feels like it’s shouting at you: styles, trends, “rules,” portfolios that look impossibly resolved. It can trick you into thinking you need to become something fixed as fast as possible. But the truth is, the early years are not about arriving. They’re about collecting evidence of what actually feels like you.
Your taste will move faster than your confidence. That gap is normal. Don’t rush to close it by imitating what works for others. Instead, keep making things and pay attention to what you keep returning to when no one is watching!
Another thing to keep in mind: visibility is not the same as value. Just because something is seen more doesn’t mean it’s more meaningful, and just because something is quiet doesn’t mean it’s not working. The industry often rewards volume and speed, but your creative identity is built in depth and repetition.
Also, protect your relationship to making. If everything becomes performance too early, the work can start bending toward approval instead of expression. And that’s usually where it loses its pulse. ( Happened to me and was a very painful process!)
And finally, stay a bit stubborn about your perspective. Not rigid, but steady. There will always be external expectations trying to reshape your work. Listen, yes but don’t outsource your creative instincts. They are the only thing that compounds over time.
Other than that: keep moving forward! It often feels like we are not good enough or it'll never work out but often it does, when you stick to the process and believe in yourself! Closed doors just show you that you are needed elsewhere or it's not time yet but should never discourage you!