The artist that challenges heteronormative history and reclaims a place for sapphic love in the stories of the past, present, and future.

Transmission 250: Interview with Jenifer Prince

• Reclaiming History: Jenifer Prince uses the “Yearning” aesthetic of 1940s-50s pulp art to prove that queer stories have always existed, even if they were historically erased.
• Art as Activism: Her work shifted from a personal tool for self-discovery to a global platform for LGBTQ+ empowerment, marked by her 2016 San Francisco Dyke March victory.
• Representation Matters: By collaborating with major brands like Netflix and Penguin Random House, Prince brings authentic sapphic joy into the mainstream, moving away from tragic queer stereotypes.

Jenifer Prince is a visual artist and illustrator renowned for her ability to combine sapphic narrative with the aesthetics of mid-century comics. The artist immerses herself in a vintage-inspired style, producing visual stories that conjure a feeling of timelessness, driven by a desire to explore the limitless possibilities of being a woman who loves women. Jenifer Prince grew up in Brazil in a small, conservative town. The inspiration for Jenifer’s artwork comes from her own queer identification experience. Drawing examples of lesbian relationships was a way for her to express herself and to address the dearth of queer stories she encountered while growing up. She has a strong passion for studying and representing LGBTQI+ documentation as part of her graphic design. She cultivates her creativity, which is inherently activist, while immersed in literature, visual arts, and film. Her artwork reimagines classic pulp comics, especially romantic stories from the 1940s and 1950s, with a contemporary, lesbian perspective.

It depicts love, pleasure, and desire in a way that has previously precluded queer depiction. Her upbeat, sapphic-focused artwork has attracted a loyal fan base, acting as a visual representation of LGBTQI+ empowerment, closeness, and joy. She mostly uses digital media to create fresh viewpoints and inspire nostalgia by blending colors and textures. Beyond only pleasing the sight, her artwork bridges a cultural gap, encouraging lesbian women to see their best selves in the mirror. Being chosen as the official poster contest winner for the San Francisco Dyke March in 2016 is a potent example of how she combines art and social action. Her success demonstrates the urgency of her activism. High-profile collaborations and commissions with companies including Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, HP, Showtime, Penguin Random House, and Glamour Brazil have all included her activism-driven artwork.

Jenifer Prince’s official site | Facebook | Instagram | Behance | Red Bubble

Growing up in Brazil, how did you navigate your artistic aspirations and identity? What challenges did you face at the beginning of your career, and how did you overcome them?

Growing up in a small town in Brazil, I didn’t think being an artist (or being openly a lesbian) was a possibility, something I could really pursue. I grew up in the ’90s, when representation was pretty much nonexistent, both in the media and in my “real life”. Drawing was always my safe space, especially as an introvert, and it helped me explore who I was my sexuality, my identity, my feelings. In college, I was much more comfortable in my identity and I finally had access to tools and mediums I’d never had before, which allowed me to take art more seriously and finally see the possibilities of working professionally with it. Things really started to change in 2016 when I created a poster for the Dyke March in San Francisco, because it was the first time my art connected with a queer audience. It touched me in such a different way! I remember feeling like I finally found something that made my heart feel full.

Jenifer Prince’s artwork challenges society’s heteronormative view of the past while drawing on the audience’s associations with it.

Your work beautifully merges vintage comic aesthetics with contemporary themes. What drew you to this particular fusion, and how do you approach balancing nostalgia with storytelling nowadays?

The vintage aesthetics in visual media, especially from the 30s to 60s, carry such a distinct emotional weight to it that I find so compelling. The drama, the longing, the yearning and the bold expressions in old comics and pulp art really speak to me. Naturally, I started to include some of what I love in those medias to my own work, imagining what it would be like to see lesbian love stories in that style. For me, it’s a way to subvert heteronormative expectations that are ingrained into that old imagery and to assert that we’ve always been here, even if we were erased literally and historically from the narrative, and that’s definitely one of the things that draws me in to this fusion. When it comes to balancing that nostalgia with storytelling today, I try to be intentional about the emotions I want to evoke and the stories I want to tell, but at the same time I try keeping the themes relatable and grounded in real lesbian and sapphic experiences. My hope is for people to feel the warmth of the past, but also to see themselves in the present. 

You’ve mentioned that discovering the character Valentina by Italian erotic comic artist Guido Crepax inspired your vintage style. Can you share more about this discovery and how it shaped your artistic direction?

Valentina was actually the first erotic graphic novel I ever came across. I was immediately drawn to Crepax’s beautiful, flowy and elegant linework. At the time, I was still very intentionally trying to figure out what my own style could be, and his work became a huge reference point for me: his graceful linework, the expressiveness of it and how sensual and artistic it felt. From there, I started exploring more old comics and finding new, different influences and naturally finding my own style. I guess Valentina marked the beginning of how I shaped my visual language. 

Because of its sentimental connection to the past, vintage-inspired lesbian art challenges the bigoted idea that lesbianism is “new.”

In your body of art you explore lesbian and sapphic storytelling in the pulp art style. How do your personal experiences influence the narrative you choose to tell through your illustrations?

I started drawing lesbian stories as a way to understand myself and my feelings when I was still figuring things out, and in many ways, I still create from that same deeply personal place. Even if a piece doesn’t depict something that happened exactly as I lived it, the characters and the context often reflect the emotions I was experiencing. An example is “I got you” I had just lost someone really important to me and I was lucky to have my girlfriend by my side the entire time. The illustration doesn’t literally show what we went through, but I tried to portray that feeling of being held and supported. I approach most of my work with this idea of translating a moment, an emotion or even a memory into something visual and hopefully relatable. 

Your participation and victory in the 2016 San Francisco Dyke March poster contest marked a significant milestone in your career. How did this experience impact your journey as an artist and activist?

That was definitely a turning point. It was the first time I saw my art connecting with a community on that level. I was living in San Francisco at the time, and seeing people resonate with that poster made me realize the kind of stories I wanted to keep telling. It gave me a lot of courage not just to keep creating, but to create from a lesbian perspective. 

She queries what society expected of women, which is why the joke that goes, “they were really good friends,” mocks how historians have treated lesbian and sapphic relationships throughout history.

Art as activism is a recurring theme in your work. How do you perceive the role of art in effecting social change, particularly concerning LGBTQ+ representation?

I believe art has the power to challenge and subvert norms, especially when it comes to making space for identities that have been overlooked or misrepresented. For queer people, seeing yourself reflected in art can be life-changing, because it tells you that you’re not alone, that you belong. Many of us grow up feeling like outsiders, excluded from the world around us before we even understand why. The more representation we see, the less isolated we feel, and the more we can imagine ourselves in the world. 

Your art pieces challenge traditional norms and promote inclusivity. How do you see the evolution of LGBTQ+ representation in nowadays art and media?

There’s definitely more visibility now, which is amazing, but we still have a long way to go especially when it comes to telling stories that aren’t centered around trauma or stereotypes. I think the queer community, especially queer artists, are reclaiming those narratives in powerful ways. We’re creating the stories we didn’t grow up with, and I hope my work contributes to that by showing lesbian and sapphic love in a positive and joyful light. 

Catherine Opie’s works, especially “Domestic,” where she travelled around the US and photographed lesbian households in the late 90s was an opportunity to see a subtle overlap of ordinariness and otherness. This is an inspiration source for Jenifer.

If you could dispel some misconceptions and biases about lesbian and sapphic love and attraction or  LGBTQ+ themes, what would they be? What part do you hope your artwork plays in this progression?

The main misconception I’d love to erase is that we’re an invention of modern times. We’re not, we’ve been here forever and our presence in history has been neglected at best and erased at worst. Another misconception is the idea that lesbian and sapphic love is always tragic or oversexualized for the male gaze. I want my art to be a counter-narrative, to show lesbian and sapphic intimacy as normal, joyful, sensual, and complex, and to show what was and could’ve been. 

You’ve collaborated with notable clients like Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, and Penguin Random House. How do you approach maintaining your unique artistic voice while working within the parameters set by these diverse brands? How do you balance commercial projects with personal artistic vision? What strategies do you employ to stay true to yourself?

I’m lucky that clients often come to me because they already connect with my visual language and themes. So even when the brief is commercial, there’s usually room to experiment and add my perspective. That said, I always find time for personal projects, it’s a vital necessity really. They help me reconnect with my creative instincts and ensure that I’m still expressing my authentic voice, not just following briefs.

Photos and images courtesy of Jenifer Prince

Dominique Musorrafiti

Ciao! My name is Dominique. I’m Italian and I’m proud to be a mix. My father was an Italian chemical engineer and high school teacher, with Greek and Polish heritage. My mother is Haitian, she was high school language teacher, with Dominican, Spanish, French, Portuguese, African and Native American heritage. Being a mix makes me appreciate to want to understand different cultures and lifestyles. I grew up in Italy, lived few years in Haiti, travel around main European capitals, lived many years in China, in Spain and UK. Traveling makes me feel that we can learn something from every situation in every part of the world.