“Each mark feels like it was left by something that once breathed.”
The space between memory and material
Billy Bagilhole is a Welsh painter and filmmaker based in the United Kingdom. His practice moves between painting and film, tracing how empathy turns into matter.
His dense, salt-heavy canvases carry a haunted kind of abstraction that has drawn growing attention.



Billy Bagilhole: On the left: Ashes on the Path Home, acrylic on canvas. On the right: Friday Night at the Ritzy, acrylic on canvas. Images courtesy the artist.
He has exhibited widely, with solo shows at Rhodes Contemporary and Blue Shop Gallery in London, Gallery at Home in Wales, and a two man exhibition with American artist Mark Sengbusch at K & L Museum in Seoul.
Bagilhole has also exhibited with Delphian Gallery, including being one of the winners of their 2019 Open Call and participating in group exhibitions such as Post/Future at the Saatchi Gallery, London.
His paintings are part of collections such as Soho House and the National Eisteddfod of Wales.


Inheritance as atmosphere
The story begins in his father’s studio, a room once filled with paintings of Native Americans, animals, and saints.
When his father died in 2001, those pictures stayed behind, holding the kind of silence that doesn’t fade.
You can feel that echo inside his work. He paints not about loss but through it. Every line holds a trace of that first lesson: that colour can mourn, and salt can preserve memory better than words ever could.

Characters that keep watch
Bagilhole’s small cast of symbols, fish bones, a figure named “Edwin,” the bull, moves through his paintings like familiar ghosts. They appear, disappear, come back wearing new skins.


These shapes link one canvas to the next, tying humour to grief and instinct to ritual.
In Rain Dogs or Bull Trophies & Stinging Nettles, the animals carry the same pulse as the human hand that painted them. They witness, they stay.

The beauty of bewilderment
He once described painting as a way to create the unknown. That sentence lingers. His work doesn’t aim for clarity, it toys with it, lets it slip away.


Billy Bagilhole: On the left: Cash Heavy, acrylic on canvas. On the right: Little Bastad, acrylic on canvas. Images courtesy the artist.

Colours mix like feelings you can’t quite name, moss green, iron red, bone white, each with its own weather.
The surface thickens, breathes, settles. Looking becomes its own slow ritual.


Billy Bagilhole: In his studio. Image courtesy the artist.
Between film and flesh
Bagilhole moves like a filmmaker when he paints. Cuts, sequences, half-frames. Layers overlap as if time itself were cross-fading.
You can almost hear the reel turning when you look long enough. The images hesitate, then sharpen, then dissolve.
The rhythm feels human, almost bodily, like editing a memory by touch.


Billy Bagilhole: Installation views from Felt Collections. Images courtesy the artist.

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