DVAA Member since 2023
Steven Climer
About:
When I was a little kid, I always got in trouble for staring out the windows in kindergarten and elementary school. I doodled and thrived with art, though. My teachers showed my mom my art and that began the private art lessons in oils. I took my classes twice a week. My mom dropped me off at this little gallery where I was by far the youngest student. I never understood why all the teachers called me very intelligent, but I had problems with socializing and making friends. I kept to myself a lot. When I started learning to paint, though; I was free. I didn’t mind that I was only allowed to paint bowls of fruit, flowers, and landscapes. As I got older, I wanted to paint cool stuff like unicorns and abstract things, but it was not allowed. I got so frustrated that I quit painting at 16. I painted on and off throughout my older years, and when I was in therapy, my therapist kept track of my anxiety by how much I painted between sessions. Then I stopped again after getting put on a lot of medication. I was still undiagnosed with autism even though I had so many symptoms. I was an adult. I made it through childhood by being dismissed as weird, creative, and strange. I was ignored most of the time and was alone. This occurred until I was in my 50s and moved to Pennsylvania to be with my partner. I was married with kids for 23 years and came out. I blew up that situation quite thoroughly, but it is better now. However, my partner (now my husband) was the first time I got support for painting. My mom died suddenly of pancreatic cancer before we got serious and moved to Philly. I was still in Detroit living alone in an apartment with my cats. I didn’t know how to cope. I did what I thought I should and went to the store and bought acrylic paint, a cheap easel, and a canvas. And I painted my mom. It helped me say goodbye and process as best I could what happened. My partner came to visit and saw it; he was so impressed with it and encouraged me to keep going. I never showed them to anyone, though. I was stupid, I never went to formal art school, I didn’t think right, I got jokes wrong, I never got the point of stories. I moved to Philly with my partner and my painting was gradually freeing me and opening me up. He was the first person to hang my paintings in our home where people could see it. My parents never really did. Their marriage failed when I was a teen, and my paintings were just put in the closet. My art teacher in high school, though, took a few of them before I stopped to a few local art competitions where I won. Winning was actually the worst thing at that time and was a factor in why I quit painting. That’s a story for another day.
Artist Statement:
Color is healing. Everyone should be saturated and around color every day of their life.
