Charming Baker’s Conversation Piece (Shot in the Arse), with shotgun pellet holes

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You’ve been signed up by big-shot music man Pat Magnarella, manager of Green Day and the Goo Goo Dolls. Er, how?

Basically I did a show in LA and Pat came and bought four pieces. Then he came to London and courted me a bit. He’s offered lots of bands, really big-name ones, but he likes the rougher edge, the punk attitude. He says he doesn’t like to work with people who don’t excite him.

So are you making ­extravagant rock-star ­requests for booze at your private view this week?

Ha! I’m much too old to start asking for those things. This private view is very low-rent. We’ve got beer, we’ve got vodka in teapots, we’ve got cake which my wife has made. We don’t want to be pretentious.

You’ve said you have an aversion to the gallery system. Why?

A lot of galleries take half before the exhibition even starts, and a lot of the owners have more publicity than the artists. I have a healthy mistrust. I just think it’s great to have another way of doing it. The nice thing about Pat is we’re making it up as we go along – not playing the rules.

You’ve described your work as like having your arse patted in public by someone you don’t know. Enlighten us…

The paintings take you in and throw you back a bit. Like going to meet a girl on a first date and you’ve had your hair cut, but you don’t know if it’s good or bad.

Is that why you mix chintz with darker images of dogs shagging or Christ with his head cut out?

Yeah, it goes against the chintz – but sometimes the chintz stuff looks psychotic too! I want these pictures to please you aesthetically and slightly unnerve you.

You once got someone to shoot one of your paintings...

If I paint something and it looks a bit too nice, I’ll drill holes in it, sand it, throw something at it. I once did one of men fighting and I started hitting it. I did this very serene painting of a girl on linen and rather than stab it, I just thought it would be great if we could find someone with a shotgun.

Have you shot any ­pictures for this exhibition?

Not for this. I’ve drilled one.

Your work has been lumped in with urban art, but you’ve never done any graffiti, right?

That’s what happens. Like anything that’s briefly fashionable, the term “urban art” is seen as derogatory by some now. I don’t mind. I don’t really want my work to fit anywhere. At Bonhams they spent 45 minutes discussing what the term meant. I had to laugh.

Your first big show, at the Truman gallery in 2007, was a hit but came 20 years after you graduated from Saint Martins. Why?

I’ve illustrated a lot, I’ve done book covers, advertising, but I’ve always made my living painting. Some quite big people have bought my work but I’ve never used it as publicity. I didn’t care so much. Now I’m working with people I like to work with, I’m happy to let them do that. With Pat, it just feels very honest – it doesn’t feel like a hedge-fund manager.

And why ‘Charming’?

I had it when I was younger. I’d be called “Sweet Talker” or “Charmer”, and it stuck. It’s a p*ss-take. It’s playful. It does the same as the paintings. My real name’s Alan.

The Meaning of Everything by Charming Baker, The Gallery, Fri–14 Jun, 50 Redchurch St, E2, 020 7287 8408, www.charmingbaker.com