KEEPING IT WEIRD!

Hey, I’m Barrie J Davies — a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, creator of colourful nonsense, accidental paint goblin, and a man fuelled almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the confidence of a seagull that’s stolen your chips and now thinks it’s your manager.

Welcome to my daily podcast. Over 340 episodes of art, creativity, ridiculous stories, and whatever strange ideas escape my brain before they can be safely contained.

My world is full of paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, bizarre characters, and enough colourful chaos to suggest giving me unlimited access to art supplies was probably a terrible idea.

Right now, The Pop Art Panic Party! is open at Brighton Rocks Bar until 22 June — packed with brand-new paintings, surreal creatures, loud colours, and the beautiful chaos created when pop art crashes into an overactive imagination.

There are no guests, no serious art discussions, and no calming jazz. It’s just me, a microphone, and the artistic equivalent of a shopping trolley full of spray paint rolling downhill through Brighton while an angry pigeon demands creative control.

If you love creativity, colourful artwork, and questionable decisions involving far too much paint, you’re in the right place.

Come join the madness. See the art, listen to the podcast, follow the chaos — but be warned: the glitter always finds you.

👉 BUY MY ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies

MY ART FOR SALE HERE!

Hey, I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, professional creator of colourful nonsense, accidental paint goblin, and a man powered almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the unearned confidence of a seagull that has successfully stolen someone's chips and now believes it's qualified to run a multinational corporation.

Welcome to my podcast. This is a daily podcast, which remains a deeply questionable commitment for somebody who once spent twenty minutes searching for a paintbrush that was in his hand the entire time. There are now more than 335 episodes and, at this point, nobody is entirely sure what the podcast has become. It might be an art podcast, it might be performance art, or it might simply be evidence for a future investigation into what happens when an artist is left unsupervised with a microphone.

I also have a website packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, and enough colourful chaos to suggest that giving me unlimited access to art supplies was probably a tactical error.

Art isn't a hobby for me; it's a way of life. Some people climb mountains, some people run marathons, and I spend three hours painting a giant pigeon before dedicating another two hours to deciding whether it should be wearing a hat. These are the important creative decisions that keep society functioning.

Right now, my latest exhibition, The Pop Art Panic Party!, is officially open at Brighton Rocks Bar and runs until 22 June. The show is packed with new paintings, colourful characters, surreal creatures, and the sort of visual chaos that happens when pop art, street art, and an overactive imagination collide at high speed.

The studio currently looks as though a children's television programme exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster remains entirely innocent.

Every morning begins with a sensible plan, but every afternoon ends with me wondering why I'm simultaneously working on three paintings, designing an exhibition, sketching a sculpture, and considering whether a seagull could successfully campaign for public office.

With The Pop Art Panic Party! now underway, the chaos hasn't slowed down. New ideas keep appearing faster than old ones can be finished, and every completed painting somehow creates three more things to add to the list. It's less of a workflow and more of a colourful avalanche.

There are no guests on this podcast, no meaningful silences, and no softly spoken experts discussing the symbolism of triangles while ambient jazz drifts gently through the background. It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should. The whole thing has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint rolling downhill through Brighton while being chased by an angry pigeon demanding creative control.

Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be safely contained. One day it's a new painting, the next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers attempting to avoid accountability.

If you enjoy creative chaos, colourful artwork, questionable decision-making, and watching a grown man repeatedly buy more paint despite already owning enough paint to redecorate a small country, you'll probably feel right at home.

So come and join the madness. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, come and see The Pop Art Panic Party! at Brighton Rocks Bar before 22 June, and subscribe to the podcast. Just be warned: once you become involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how, nobody knows why, but it always does.

👉 BUY MY ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies 

THE SHOW IS ON! Don't miss it!

Hey, I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, professional creator of colourful nonsense, accidental paint goblin, and a man powered almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the unearned confidence of a seagull that has successfully stolen someone's chips and now believes it's qualified to run a multinational corporation.

Welcome to my podcast. This is a daily podcast, which remains a deeply questionable commitment for somebody who once spent twenty minutes searching for a paintbrush that was in his hand the entire time. There are now more than 335 episodes and, at this point, nobody is entirely sure what the podcast has become. It might be an art podcast, it might be performance art, or it might simply be evidence for a future investigation into what happens when an artist is left unsupervised with a microphone.

I also have a website packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, and enough colourful chaos to suggest that giving me unlimited access to art supplies was probably a tactical error.

Art isn't a hobby for me; it's a way of life. Some people climb mountains, some people run marathons, and I spend three hours painting a giant pigeon before dedicating another two hours to deciding whether it should be wearing a hat. These are the important creative decisions that keep society functioning.

Right now, my latest exhibition, The Pop Art Panic Party!, is officially open at Brighton Rocks Bar and runs until 22 June. The show is packed with new paintings, colourful characters, surreal creatures, and the sort of visual chaos that happens when pop art, street art, and an overactive imagination collide at high speed.

The studio currently looks as though a children's television programme exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster remains entirely innocent.

Every morning begins with a sensible plan, but every afternoon ends with me wondering why I'm simultaneously working on three paintings, designing an exhibition, sketching a sculpture, and considering whether a seagull could successfully campaign for public office.

With The Pop Art Panic Party! now underway, the chaos hasn't slowed down. New ideas keep appearing faster than old ones can be finished, and every completed painting somehow creates three more things to add to the list. It's less of a workflow and more of a colourful avalanche.

There are no guests on this podcast, no meaningful silences, and no softly spoken experts discussing the symbolism of triangles while ambient jazz drifts gently through the background. It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should. The whole thing has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint rolling downhill through Brighton while being chased by an angry pigeon demanding creative control.

Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be safely contained. One day it's a new painting, the next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers attempting to avoid accountability.

If you enjoy creative chaos, colourful artwork, questionable decision-making, and watching a grown man repeatedly buy more paint despite already owning enough paint to redecorate a small country, you'll probably feel right at home.

So come and join the madness. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, come and see The Pop Art Panic Party! at Brighton Rocks Bar before 22 June, and subscribe to the podcast. Just be warned: once you become involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how, nobody knows why, but it always does.

👉 SHOP ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies 

1 DAY TO GO!

Hey, I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, professional creator of colourful nonsense, accidental paint goblin, and a man powered almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the unearned confidence of a seagull that has successfully stolen someone's chips and now believes it's qualified to run a multinational corporation.

Welcome to my podcast. This is a daily podcast, which remains a deeply questionable commitment for somebody who once spent twenty minutes searching for a paintbrush that was in his hand the entire time. There are now more than 335 episodes and, at this point, nobody is entirely sure what the podcast has become. It might be an art podcast, it might be performance art, or it might simply be evidence for a future investigation into what happens when an artist is left unsupervised with a microphone for far too long.

I also have a website packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, and enough colourful chaos to suggest that giving me unlimited access to art supplies was probably a tactical error.

Art isn't a hobby for me; it's a way of life. Some people climb mountains, some people run marathons, and I spend three hours painting a giant pigeon before dedicating another two hours to deciding whether it should be wearing a hat. These are the important creative decisions that keep society functioning.

The studio currently looks as though a children's television programme exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never contributed creatively to any project and remains entirely innocent.

Every morning begins with a sensible plan, but every afternoon ends with me wondering why I'm simultaneously working on three paintings, designing an exhibition, sketching a sculpture, and considering whether a seagull could successfully campaign for public office.

With only two days to go until The Pop Art Panic Party!, the studio has entered a state best described as organised confusion. Paintings are being finished, prints are being prepared, and lists are being written, misplaced, rewritten, and then misplaced again in what has become a highly sophisticated management system.

There are no guests on this podcast, no meaningful silences, and no softly spoken experts discussing the symbolism of triangles while ambient jazz drifts gently through the background. It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should. The whole thing has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint rolling downhill through Brighton while being chased by an angry pigeon demanding creative control.

Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be safely contained. One day it's a new painting, the next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers attempting to avoid accountability.

If you enjoy creative chaos, colourful artwork, questionable decision-making, and watching a grown man repeatedly buy more paint despite already owning enough paint to redecorate a small country, you'll probably feel right at home.

So come and join the madness. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, and subscribe to the podcast. Just be warned: once you become involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how, nobody knows why, but it always does.

👉 SHOP ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies 

2 DAYS TO GO!

Hey, I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, professional creator of colourful nonsense, accidental paint goblin, and a man powered almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the unearned confidence of a seagull that has successfully stolen someone's chips and now believes it's qualified to run a multinational corporation.

Welcome to my podcast. This is a daily podcast, which remains a deeply questionable commitment for somebody who once spent twenty minutes searching for a paintbrush that was in his hand the entire time. There are now more than 334 episodes and, at this point, nobody is entirely sure what the podcast has become. It might be an art podcast, it might be performance art, or it might simply be evidence for a future investigation into what happens when an artist is left unsupervised with a microphone for far too long.

I also have a website packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, and enough colourful chaos to suggest that giving me unlimited access to art supplies was probably a tactical error.

Art isn't a hobby for me; it's a way of life. Some people climb mountains, some people run marathons, and I spend three hours painting a giant pigeon before dedicating another two hours to deciding whether it should be wearing a hat. These are the important creative decisions that keep society functioning.

The studio currently looks as though a children's television programme exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never contributed creatively to any project and remains entirely innocent.

Every morning begins with a sensible plan, but every afternoon ends with me wondering why I'm simultaneously working on three paintings, designing an exhibition, sketching a sculpture, and considering whether a seagull could successfully campaign for public office.

With only two days to go until The Pop Art Panic Party!, the studio has entered a state best described as organised confusion. Paintings are being finished, prints are being prepared, and lists are being written, misplaced, rewritten, and then misplaced again in what has become a highly sophisticated management system.

There are no guests on this podcast, no meaningful silences, and no softly spoken experts discussing the symbolism of triangles while ambient jazz drifts gently through the background. It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should. The whole thing has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint rolling downhill through Brighton while being chased by an angry pigeon demanding creative control.

Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be safely contained. One day it's a new painting, the next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers attempting to avoid accountability.

If you enjoy creative chaos, colourful artwork, questionable decision-making, and watching a grown man repeatedly buy more paint despite already owning enough paint to redecorate a small country, you'll probably feel right at home.

So come and join the madness. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, and subscribe to the podcast. Just be warned: once you become involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how, nobody knows why, but it always does.

👉 SHOP ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies 

3 DAYS TO GO!

Hey, I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, an accidental paint goblin, and a man held together almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the misplaced confidence of a raccoon that has stolen a bumper car and now considers itself a transport consultant.

Welcome to my podcast. I apologise in advance, but only in the same way a tornado apologises to a garden shed: technically, but without any intention of changing its behaviour.

This is a daily podcast, which remains a genuinely questionable life choice for someone who once lost a coffee mug in the studio for so long that it probably established its own local government.

There are now more than 334 episodes. At this point, nobody is entirely sure whether it's a podcast, a performance artwork, a cry for help, or evidence for a future tribunal investigating excessive enthusiasm.

I also have a website at www.barriejdavies.info, packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, and enough colourful chaos to suggest that leaving me unsupervised with art supplies was a tactical error.

Art isn't a hobby for me. It's a way of life. Some people climb mountains. Some people run marathons. I spend three hours painting a giant pigeon and another two debating whether it should be wearing a hat. These are the important decisions.

The studio currently looks like a children's television channel exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never contributed creatively to any project. The toaster is innocent.

Every day starts with a plan. Every day that plan collapses almost immediately under the weight of new ideas. I might sit down intending to finish one painting and somehow end up redesigning an exhibition, sketching a sculpture, and wondering whether a seagull could successfully run for public office.

If you enjoy creative chaos, questionable decisions, and the sound of a man enthusiastically disappearing down artistic rabbit holes, follow my Instagram, @barriejdavies. You'll find new artwork, studio updates, works in progress, painting disasters, and regular proof that buying more paint has become my preferred form of personal growth.

There are no guests on this podcast. No meaningful silences. No softly spoken experts discussing the symbolism of triangles while an accordion cries gently in the background.

It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should.

The podcast has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint that has somehow become self-aware and is now rolling downhill through Brighton while being chased by a seagull demanding creative differences.

Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be safely contained. One day it's a new painting. The next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers trying to avoid accountability.

With only 3 days to go until The Pop Art Panic Party!, the studio has entered a state best described as organised confusion. Paintings are being finished, prints are being prepared, and lists are being written, misplaced, rewritten, and misplaced again.

So come and join the chaos. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, and subscribe to the podcast.

Just be warned: once you're involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how. Nobody knows why. But it always does.

👉 SHOP ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – @barriejdavies

4 DAYS TO GO!

Hey, I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, an accidental paint goblin, and a man held together almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint, and the misplaced confidence of a raccoon that has stolen a bumper car and now considers itself a transport consultant.

Welcome to my podcast. I apologise in advance, but only in the same way a tornado apologises to a garden shed: technically, but without any intention of changing its behaviour.

This is a daily podcast, which remains a genuinely questionable life choice for someone who once lost a coffee mug in the studio for so long that it probably established its own local government.

There are now more than 334 episodes. At this point, nobody is entirely sure whether it's a podcast, a performance artwork, a cry for help, or evidence for a future tribunal investigating excessive enthusiasm.

I also have a website at www.barriejdavies.info, packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, and enough colourful chaos to suggest that leaving me unsupervised with art supplies was a tactical error.

Art isn't a hobby for me. It's a way of life. Some people climb mountains. Some people run marathons. I spend three hours painting a giant pigeon and another two debating whether it should be wearing a hat. These are the important decisions.

The studio currently looks like a children's television channel exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never contributed creatively to any project. The toaster is innocent.

Every day starts with a plan. Every day that plan collapses almost immediately under the weight of new ideas. I might sit down intending to finish one painting and somehow end up redesigning an exhibition, sketching a sculpture, and wondering whether a seagull could successfully run for public office.

If you enjoy creative chaos, questionable decisions, and the sound of a man enthusiastically disappearing down artistic rabbit holes, follow my Instagram, @barriejdavies. You'll find new artwork, studio updates, works in progress, painting disasters, and regular proof that buying more paint has become my preferred form of personal growth.

There are no guests on this podcast. No meaningful silences. No softly spoken experts discussing the symbolism of triangles while an accordion cries gently in the background.

It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should.

The podcast has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint that has somehow become self-aware and is now rolling downhill through Brighton while being chased by a seagull demanding creative differences.

Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be safely contained. One day it's a new painting. The next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers trying to avoid accountability.

With only 4 days to go until The Pop Art Panic Party!, the studio has entered a state best described as organised confusion. Paintings are being finished, prints are being prepared, and lists are being written, misplaced, rewritten, and misplaced again.

So come and join the chaos. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, and subscribe to the podcast.

Just be warned: once you're involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how. Nobody knows why. But it always does.

👉 SHOP ART HERE – www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – eepurl.com/dbIy6P

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – @barriejdavies

I’M OFF TO THE SHOP DO YOU WANT ANYTHING? 

Hey. I'm Barrie J Davies, a Welsh street pop surrealism artist based in Brighton, an accidental paint goblin, and a man held together almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint fumes, and the misplaced confidence of a raccoon that has somehow stolen a bumper car and now believes it owns the road.

Welcome to my podcast. I apologise in advance, but only in the same way a tornado apologises to a garden shed.

This is a daily podcast, which remains a genuinely questionable life choice for someone who once lost a coffee mug under a pile of canvases for so long that it probably started a new family and now refuses to answer my calls. There are now more than 333 episodes of this thing. At this point, nobody is entirely sure whether it's a podcast, a performance artwork, or evidence being assembled for future legal proceedings.

I also have a website at www.barriejdavies.info. It's packed with paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, projects, and a frankly alarming amount of proof that nobody has yet stepped in to stop me. The whole thing is basically an attempt to organise the contents of a brain that once spent half an hour deciding which shade of neon yellow best represented the emotional state of a flamingo being told it couldn't park there.

If you enjoy chaotic studio nonsense and increasingly questionable creative decisions, follow my Instagram, @barriejdavies. You'll find behind-the-scenes artwork, studio updates, painting disasters, and regular evidence that buying more paint is apparently my preferred substitute for developing a personality.

There are no guests on this podcast. There are no meaningful silences, no whispered conversations about the symbolism of triangles, and no softly spoken man called Sebastian explaining emotional collapse while an accordion cries gently beside a chair made entirely from recycled teaspoons. It's just me talking far more often than any reasonable person should.

The podcast itself has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint that has somehow become sentient, rejected all advice, and is now rolling downhill through Brighton while being followed by a seagull shouting insults. Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it could be contained by modern science. One day it's a new painting. The next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers trying to avoid an awkward conversation.

The studio currently looks like a children's television channel exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never once been involved in the artistic process. The toaster is innocent. The toaster deserved better.

Glitter also continues to appear in rooms where glitter has never been and has absolutely no logical means of arrival. I've ruled out drafts, visitors, and basic physics. The only explanation left is that glitter has become self-aware and is slowly spreading its influence.

The whole operation is loud, colourful, messy, and functioning well beyond the boundaries of common sense. Several international health-and-safety organisations would probably like a word, but I'm choosing to focus on the artwork instead.

So come and join the chaos. Visit the website, follow the Instagram, and subscribe to the podcast. Do all three if you're feeling particularly brave. Just be warned: once you're involved, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how. Nobody knows why. But it always does.

👉 SHOP ART HERE – http://www.barriejdavies.info

👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST – http://eepurl.com/dbIy6P

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM – https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies

I’M GOING FOR A NAP! 

Hey. I'm Barrie J Davies, a Brighton-based Welsh street pop surrealism artist, accidental paint goblin, and a man held together almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint fumes, and the unearned confidence of a raccoon who has somehow hot-wired a bumper car and now believes it owns the road.

Welcome to my podcast. I apologise in advance, but only in the same way a tornado apologises to a garden shed.

This is a daily podcast, which is a genuinely questionable life choice for someone who once lost a coffee mug under a pile of canvases for so long that it probably emigrated, started a new family, and now refuses to answer my calls. There are now 330 episodes of this thing. At this point, nobody is entirely sure whether it's a podcast, a performance artwork, or evidence being gathered for future legal proceedings.

I also have a website, www.barriejdavies.info, which is possibly the most concentrated collection of artistic chaos currently available online. It contains paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, projects, and what can only be described as alarming proof that nobody has yet stepped in to stop me. The entire website is basically an attempt to organise the contents of a brain that once spent half an hour deciding which shade of neon yellow best represented the emotional state of a flamingo being told it couldn't park there.

If you enjoy chaotic studio nonsense, questionable creative decisions, and regular evidence that glitter may actually possess supernatural abilities, follow my Instagram @barriejdavies for behind-the-scenes artwork, studio updates, painting disasters, and ongoing proof that buying more paint is not a substitute for a personality.

There are no guests on this podcast. There are no meaningful silences, no whispered conversations about the symbolism of triangles, and no softly spoken man called Sebastian explaining emotional collapse while an accordion cries beside a chair made entirely from recycled spoons. It's just me, talking far more often than any reasonable person should.

The podcast itself has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint that has become sentient, rejected all advice, and is now rolling downhill through Brighton while a seagull follows behind shouting insults. Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it became a matter for local authorities. One day it's a new painting. The next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers trying to avoid an awkward conversation.

The studio currently looks like a children's television channel exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never once been involved in the artistic process. The toaster is innocent. The toaster deserved better.

Glitter also continues to appear in rooms where glitter has never been and has absolutely no logical means of arrival. I've ruled out drafts, visitors, and basic physics. The only explanation left is that glitter is haunted, has developed self-awareness, and is slowly spreading.

The whole operation is loud, messy, colourful, and operating well beyond the boundaries of common sense. Several international health-and-safety organisations would probably like a word, but I'm choosing to focus on my art instead.

So come and join the chaos. Visit the website. Follow the Instagram. Subscribe to the podcast. Do all three if you're feeling particularly brave. Just be warned: once you're in, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how. Nobody knows why. But it always does.

👉 BUY ART HERE -  http://www.barriejdavies.info 👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST - http://eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM - https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies 

ARE YOU COMING TO MY SHOW?  7 DAYS TO GO! 

Hey. I'm Barrie J Davies, a Brighton-based Welsh street pop surrealism artist, accidental paint goblin, and a man held together almost entirely by caffeine, neon paint fumes, and the unearned confidence of a raccoon who has somehow hot-wired a bumper car and now believes it owns the road.

Welcome to my podcast. I apologise in advance, but only in the same way a tornado apologises to a garden shed.

This is a daily podcast, which is a genuinely questionable life choice for someone who once lost a coffee mug under a pile of canvases for so long that it probably emigrated, started a new family, and now refuses to answer my calls. There are now 330 episodes of this thing. At this point, nobody is entirely sure whether it's a podcast, a performance artwork, or evidence being gathered for future legal proceedings.

I also have a website, www.barriejdavies.info, which is possibly the most concentrated collection of artistic chaos currently available online. It contains paintings, prints, sculptures, exhibitions, projects, and what can only be described as alarming proof that nobody has yet stepped in to stop me. The entire website is basically an attempt to organise the contents of a brain that once spent half an hour deciding which shade of neon yellow best represented the emotional state of a flamingo being told it couldn't park there.

If you enjoy chaotic studio nonsense, questionable creative decisions, and regular evidence that glitter may actually possess supernatural abilities, follow my Instagram @barriejdavies for behind-the-scenes artwork, studio updates, painting disasters, and ongoing proof that buying more paint is not a substitute for a personality.

There are no guests on this podcast. There are no meaningful silences, no whispered conversations about the symbolism of triangles, and no softly spoken man called Sebastian explaining emotional collapse while an accordion cries beside a chair made entirely from recycled spoons. It's just me, talking far more often than any reasonable person should.

The podcast itself has the energy of a supermarket trolley full of spray paint that has become sentient, rejected all advice, and is now rolling downhill through Brighton while a seagull follows behind shouting insults. Every episode is simply whatever escaped my brain before it became a matter for local authorities. One day it's a new painting. The next it's an unnecessarily detailed investigation into why pigeons walk like middle managers trying to avoid an awkward conversation.

The studio currently looks like a children's television channel exploded inside a graffiti tunnel. There is paint on the walls, paint on the floor, paint on clothes specifically chosen to avoid getting paint on them, and somehow paint on the toaster. The toaster has never once been involved in the artistic process. The toaster is innocent. The toaster deserved better.

Glitter also continues to appear in rooms where glitter has never been and has absolutely no logical means of arrival. I've ruled out drafts, visitors, and basic physics. The only explanation left is that glitter is haunted, has developed self-awareness, and is slowly spreading.

The whole operation is loud, messy, colourful, and operating well beyond the boundaries of common sense. Several international health-and-safety organisations would probably like a word, but I'm choosing to focus on my art instead.

So come and join the chaos. Visit the website. Follow the Instagram. Subscribe to the podcast. Do all three if you're feeling particularly brave. Just be warned: once you're in, the glitter eventually finds you. Nobody knows how. Nobody knows why. But it always does.

👉 BUY ART HERE -  http://www.barriejdavies.info
👉 JOIN MY MAILING LIST - http://eepurl.com/dbIy6P 

👉 FOLLOW MY INSTAGRAM - https://www.instagram.com/barriejdavies