Polly Nor Draws the Demons You Don’t Admit To

British artist Polly Nor makes illustrations that are explicitly horny and quietly horrifying in roughly equal measure. Her figures—almost always women—are accompanied by small grotesque demons that cling to their backs, peer over their shoulders, and occasionally join in on whatever is happening. What is happening tends to involve masturbation, desire, despair, or some layered combination of all three.

The demons aren’t metaphors you have to squint at. They’re the continuous low-grade self-loathing that shows up mid-pleasure, the voice that says you don’t deserve this even while you’re having it. Polly renders them literally, which is the right call—they’re more honest as small ugly creatures than as abstract psychological concepts. Every person I’ve ever known has one or two of these things quietly on the payroll.

Looking at her work from the outside, there’s something specifically interesting about the way she draws desire from the inside rather than for an audience. It isn’t alienating—if anything, the recognizable misery makes it more legible across the gap. The fantasies collapse. The demons stick around. You order a pizza, put on something terrible, and handle it yourself. Polly Nor understands this completely, and she’s not judging anyone for it.