A few months ago, Nieves González received a cryptic message on Instagram from a woman named Leith Clark. Clark wanted to know if González, a Spanish artist, was interested in doing a commission. Intrigued, González agreed to a call. When she got on, Clark was on the other end—as was Lily Allen.
Their conversation that day resulted in an idea that became a physical thing: an oil painting of the British singer in a Miu Miu puffer, a lace teddy, and Valentino boots, which she then used as the cover for her latest album, West End Girl.
It would be a disservice to Allen to say West End Girl made a splash. The album, written by Allen in 10 days and released on October 24, was a contest-winning cannonball: Its 14 tracks appeared to provide a brutally honest look into Allen’s marriage to Stranger Things actor David Harbour, with quite literal lyrics in lieu of allegorical ones. (In one song, Allen reads texts sent to her from her husband’s alleged mistress. In another, she describes discovering a plastic bag full of Trojan condoms and butt plugs. Allen has said that the album is not “all true.”) TikToks reacting to the album racked up millions of views. Instagram, meanwhile, was flooded with memes proclaiming a “West End Girl Winter” (a play on Charli xcx’s “Brat Summer” phenomenon). In all of the content, González’s cover was front and center, transcending from a mere image to a piece of pop culture iconography.
Clark, a fashion stylist and Allen’s creative director, says that she had a clear vision for the album art from the start: a Dutch masters portrait. Pioneered by artists like Vermeer and Rembrandt during Holland’s golden age in the 17th century, the Dutch masters’ paintings featured their subjects—often members of the merchant class, a novel concept at a time when portraiture was reserved for royals or religious figures—in a dignified manner. Oftentimes subjects held a prop meant to symbolize their own ethos: A coin purse, for example, might be in the hand of a wealthy businessman, whereas a compass could sit in the lap of a shipping magnate. An attractive woman might also hold a flower (usually a tulip) as a symbol of her beauty. Rembrandt in particular embraced chiaroscuro, or a style where there’s a high contrast between dark and light.
“There’s a calm pride in the way the subject is reflected in those paintings,” Clark tells Vanity Fair. “I wanted that confidence to be present in the image because, of course, the work, but also to have gone through what she’s gone through, to stand with your head held high is, I hope, something that becomes contagious to more women.”
So she went to work finding a modern painter who channeled the stately aesthetic of those old masters. Her own Instagram suggested posts provided an instant curation: “My algorithms are really good at that,” Clark says. “I steer clear of Kardashian culture, and I get to see a lot of amazing artists.”
She eventually stumbled upon someone with the exact aesthetic she imagined: Nieves González.
The 29-year-old Spanish painter, who holds two degrees from the University of Seville, is known for her modernization of Spanish Baroque codes, a 17th-century school that bears similarities to its northern Dutch masters neighbors. Her sitters, who pose against a dark background, hold masterful, dignified airs. Oftentimes they hold a prop just as the Dutch masters subjects did, although with a playful irrelevance: A sitter wearing a Lakers jersey holds a basketball, whereas another has several heart-shaped balloons. Some clutch stuffed animals.
They also wear distinct fashions: González’s subjects have worn everything from pink fur to a Yankees letterman jacket to a swimsuit. Many of them have worn quilted jackets, which González describes as “a recurring element in my work.”
She can now add Allen to that list. Clark sent the painter a brief with the outfit she envisioned, which included a Miu Miu puffer jacket. González immediately felt a deeper meaning in the fashion choice: “For Lily, the jacket was perfect, both armor and comfort, protection and vulnerability, a garment that exists outside of traditional glamour,” she says. “Ideal for a portrait that rejects passive reverence for pop iconography.” Inside the album cover are two additional still lifes, including one of a tennis racket and balls—a nod to “Tennis,” Allen’s fourth track. (“I can’t get my head ’round how you’ve been playing tennis / If it was just sex / I wouldn’t be jealous,” she croons.) The other depicts several passports, possibly alluding to a recent tabloid scandal of Allen’s where she revealed she had rehomed an adopted dog after it ate her family’s passports.
The top-secret cover art kept González “totally focused for months,” she says. She made several sketches to test composition and light and composure. “The face is the most complex part. Trying to capture the essence, the gaze, trying to capture everything you want to convey and give the portrait soul,” she says.
Now that it’s out in the open, González is sitting atop an art-meets-popular-music-raised platform that several high-profile artists have sat upon: Jeff Koons for Lady Gaga’s Artpop, George Condo for Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, or Andy Warhol for The Velvet Underground & Nico. It’s a definite propellant for the young artist, who in June 2026 will have a solo exhibit at the Richard Heller Gallery in Los Angeles.
Clark says that for West End Girl, the permanent, ethereal grandeur implied by an oil painting was the only medium that felt apt for the biggest album of Allen’s career thus far: “It feels like her masterpiece,” she says.
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