How going off grid formed potter Paul Philp

For the last 60 years, Paul Philp has been quietly creating ceramic vessels inspired as much by ancient artefacts as by the work of British modernist sculptors. Central to his style is an exploration of surface. Created through a minimum of four firings, his trademark matte textures can be spotted or grainy, cracked or smooth, often recalling geological phenomena such as the erosion of rock. Speaking from his studio in Bath, Philp tells us more.

Above: Ceramic vessels by Paul Philp. Photo: Chloé Rosetta Bell, courtesy of Flow Gallery

‘Handbuilding suits me: I like the steady, slow control. By comparison, throwing on a wheel is wet, sloppy and restrictive of form – you can only make variations on circles. All my work is handbuilt by coiling and modelling. When it’s semi dry, I carve and then scrape it down – a certain amount of texture is created before I apply anything to the surface.

I start working around 6am and the first thing I do is open the kilns. I use two small electric kilns, which work well for me: they give quick results so I can see how pieces are going. I can assess progress and then start another firing. Each piece goes through three or four low temperature firings to fire layers of slips, oxides and glazes, then one at high temperature to finish creating texture – sometimes I make pieces with quite extreme cracks and fissures.

I’ve been creating variations on a theme for a long time, nearly always featuring dry, matte surfaces. I often try new things, but my pots always have forms I feel are classic, whether inspired by Japanese pottery or architecture, ancient Greek or Egyptian cultures, or geology. I have great respect for objects such as the pre-dynastic stone vessels of Egypt that must have taken immense patience to produce.

I couldn’t do without my research library. I’ve studied ancient cultures and tribal art in great depth, and have built up a large collection of reference books over many years. I like to study in museums and, as I came from a background of art and antique dealing, I often visit Sotheby’s and Christie’s – they allow you to handle objects worth half a million pounds, which is nerve-wracking but useful. I often make work with a kind of encrusted patina that is reminiscent of the surfaces of historic pieces that have been subjected to all sorts of experiences in their long existence, such as erosion from weather, use or insects.

I’m inspired by traditional architectural styles. I’ve had a lot of hands-on experience with natural building materials, which has influenced my pots. When I was 19, in 1962, I came into a small inheritance and bought a dilapidated cottage with a coach-house and stables in Wales (for just £1,200 – things were very different then). I set up a pottery – though I was far too young, really – and restored all the buildings in a vernacular style, using reclaimed materials. Later, I spent about 15 years away from pottery, busy practising rural self-sufficiency: growing most of our food, rearing animals, and so on. It all had an effect on my work. Today, I still want to make things with a certain naturalness to them.

I’m a very nervous buyer at auctions but over the decades I’ve built up a large collection of small historic objects, mostly from North America – though some are from Italy and Egypt. There are several hundred pieces in total, including stone artefacts such as arrowheads – most are in drawers in collector’s cabinets.

I see myself as part of the British modernist tradition of the 1920s, 30s and 40s – think of Barbara Hepworth and Ben Nicholson in St Ives. I used to travel to Cornwall when I was a teenager to get involved in its art scene. I met Bernard Leach there in the 1950s, when he was very old and I was very young – I must have been a great bother to him. He was a real inspiration: the ideas and atmosphere at the Leach Pottery in those days were all wonderfully exciting.

An artist whose work I admire is Elizabeth Fritsch. Very few potters have an overall set of skills. Some are great craftsmen but might lack taste or artistic judgement; some might create interesting surfaces but can’t grasp form. She, however, manages to combine craftsmanship with form and surface decoration into one stunning whole.

My greatest ambition now is to make a piece that I really love, which is very difficult to do. I have made a lot of things I’m quite happy with, but not 100%. At my age – I’m 80 – the idea of ambition becomes rather less relevant than it was.’