Art of the “Formless”: The Ceramics of Charles Bound

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Because they change exhibitions often, it’s a good place to gain perspective on the state of British studio ceramics and see the work of both new and veteran artists. On this occasion, the gallery dedicated its back room – the gallery’s special sanctum — to Bound, who has been making wood-fired stoneware for some 45 years. The works stood apart from those by others then on display at the gallery including Clive Bowen, Sotis Filippedes, Doug Fitch, Jane Hamlyn, Walter Keeler, and Stephen Parry. Bound’s ceramics, unlike theirs, are thick-walled, dark and irregularly shaped. Though nearly all works in the exhibition were vessels of some kind — amphorae, urns, plates and bowls – many approached what I would call informe, “the formless,” to borrow the phrase of the Surrealist author, Georges Bataille. That’s what made them so compelling. The large plates were coarse and irregular, with gouges, gaps, and crevices. I’d recently seen some like them by the American Peter Voulkos in the Victoria & Albert Museum. They dated from the 1970s and featured porcelain infusions that exploded during firing, creating blackened holes. Bound’s plates, both thrown and coiled were even coarser and more dangerous looking – as if scarred by volcanic eruption rather than pistol shots. Charles Bound, Untitled, c. 2005. Welshpool, Powys, Wales. Photo: The author The vases or urns on exhibition also had gaps, holes, or small loops (ears) that mocked function. Several of the bowls were so rough — with infused, pitted or irregular rims — you’d never dare put them to your lips. A few pots were blackened, reminding me of George Ohr – the Mad Potter of Biloxi — and his “burned babies,” earthenware rescued from the fire that destroyed his studio in 1894. Bound uses a slip made of manganese dioxide and copper carbonate to achieve a charcoal black. Also on exhibition were a few abstract works on paper –- charcoal, acrylic, gouache and collage. They were both a contrast to and an extension of the ceramics. Some were black and gestural, recalling Richard Serra’s drawings with paint stick. Most were colorful – white, yellow and red predominated — and thus unlike the tonally variegated, but largely achromic pots. Their broad, densely packed, looping and irregularly shaped brushstrokes however, featured the same kind of expressive – almost accidental — compositions as the clay works. They suggested Abstract Expressionist Willem De Kooning’s later, lyrical abstractions, such as Untitled XI (1975, Art Institute of Chicago), as well as Art Informel painter Antoni Tàpies’s works on paper and canvas. In ceramic as well as paint, Bound’s work were expressive and reticent; assertive and informe. Who was this mature, American-British artist, till then unknown to me, who exhibited such a cogent and paradoxical body of work? (left) Stelae, vessels, plates and painting by Charles Bound / (right) Charles Bound with Untitled (large plates). Welshpool, Powys, Wales. Photos: The Author Studio visit I resolved that day in London to visit Bound’s studio and learn more. Last January my wife Harriet and I drove the five hours from our flat in Norwich to Bound’s home and studio near Welshpool, Powys, Wales. The weather started out cold and gray with occasional spits of rain – typical for the location and time of year – and perfect for observing the subtle tones and muted colors of ash glazed pottery. Later, sun broke through and highlighted the contours and variegated surfaces of the works. Upon arriving at Bound’s property, the last farm on a winding, narrow road, we parked in a courtyard with brick storage barns in front and to the left of us, and a neat, 17thC, half-timbered cottage to the right. Almost at once, a tall, rangy man sprang out to greet us. At 86 y.o., Bound is still ruggedly handsome with a shock of white hair and beard recalling Sterling Hayden in the film The Long Goodbye (1973). Though his agility is slightly hindered by age and a banged-up knee, he was enthusiastic to guide us across his seven-acre property. Pottery was everywhere. On the brick wall in front of us were attached a pair of plates, two feet in diameter, one above the other between weathered, barn doors. They were out of round, warped, scraped, spalled, and pierced with three and four holes each, like the Voulkos plates mentioned earlier. I thought at once of targets at a shooting range and hex signs on the sides of Pennsylvania Dutch (German) farmhouses and barns. The worn and scoured half-doors resembled the surface of the plates, suggesting that some of Bound’s ceramics are best seen in situ; they function as installation or site-specific art. Passing between the barn and the house, we approached a large, brick shed with pitched, metal roof – Bound’s main studio – with six or eight big urns leaning against it. Bound directed us to two with crusty, or sandy shoulders that were also partly coated with moss and grey-green lichens. He patted them approvingly. “I can’t rival this,” he said, pointing to the lichens. “In another coupl