Metro Roundup: Steve Skipper finds escape through art

A full-length documentary film that debuted in November tells the story of Steve Skipper, a Homewood native who broke down barriers of racism through his fine art career.

Growing up in Homewood, Skipper said there was a lot of dysfunction in his home: he witnessed his mother with another man when Skipper was 9, and he said he felt angry for his father.

“At 9 years old, you don’t know what to do with that kind of trauma and anger,” Skipper said. “Instead of controlling it, it controlled me.”

One Sunday after church, his friends introduced 13-year-old Skipper to marijuana, and after that, he was told about the Crips, which is one of the largest street gangs in the country. He snuck out of his house at midnight to meet them.

“This isn’t a group you just join. It’s a far cry from the Boy Scouts,” he said. “This is a group where you have to be jumped in, and that’s where one person has to fight 10 of the gang members alone.

“With all of the anger inside of me, when I looked at these guys, I saw the face of my mother. All of the anger inside of me came out, and next thing I know, these guys were on the ground.”

One day he and a dozen of the other gang members were at the swimming pool celebrating and getting high after they had successfully robbed somebody. That’s when a lifeguard told Skipper he needed to put the drugs down and give his life to the Lord.

“Nobody knew that on the inside of myself I was getting tired of being in this gang,” Skipper said. “And everything he was saying about Jesus Christ, I was really taking it in, but I couldn’t show the guys who were with me.”

To keep his friends from attacking the lifeguard, Skipper told him to back off. But the lifeguard kept talking about Jesus.

So Skipper made him a deal: if he stopped talking to them, Skipper would go to church with him one night. It was a deal.

“I went into the church expecting to stay 15 minutes, and I ended up staying 46 years because I ended up giving my life to Christ that night,” Skipper said.

He also started to find an escape through painting. His uncle was an “exceptional” drawer, Skipper said, but he never understood why his uncle didn’t pursue drawing professionally. Then when Skipper was older, he realized it was because Black people couldn’t pursue art as a profession.

“I would always notice my uncle would draw something very beautiful, but when he got through with it, he would look very sad,” Skipper said.

In fourth grade, Skipper was doodling on his notebook when his teacher saw the doodles, took the notebook away and sent it to the principal’s office. Skipper thought he was in trouble, but then he heard the teacher tell the principal that she thought Skipper was extremely talented. She asked if money could be allocated for art supplies, but the principal said no.

The teacher visited Skipper’s home and told his mother that she thought he could become an artist someday. But Skipper’s mother bristled at the idea, knowing what happened to his uncle. She didn’t want her son to face discrimination through his art, Skipper said.

The teacher bought him art supplies and oil paint with her own money, but at the time, Skipper didn’t know what to do with it all or why the teacher had taken an interest in him, he said.

When Skipper became a Christian at 16, he realized where his talent had come from. It came from God, he said.

“It caused me to dig it up and start using my talent, because one thing the minister talked about was people with talent,” he said. “He said that every time you use the gift God has given you, it actually pleases him. So to please him, to use that gift, was like pouring gasoline on a fire.”

But he didn’t start painting right away. First, he had to quit the gang.

“I had experienced people trying that before, and it never worked well,” he said.

The minister’s message one night was that once a person dies, if that person accepted Jesus into his or her heart, that person would go to Heaven. Skipper took that in wholeheartedly, and he felt a boldness on him. He went to the gang and told them he wasn’t coming back anymore, he said.

“I knew that if I turned around and walked out of that door, I was going to be shot,” he said. “So I took the first step, no shot. Second step, no shot. Third step, no shot. Four million steps, still no shot.

“I found out the radical change in my life stunned them so much that they didn’t say or do anything.”

Skipper, 62, said he can’t believe he didn’t die that day, he said. “It had to be God protecting me,” he said.

At 17, he was at football practice in the pouring rain when he looked over at the high school. There was a light on in the art department. That’s when he had an epiphany, and he decided he wanted to be an artist, he said.

Skipper was a “starving artist” for years he said, laughing. He remembers his mother telling him to “get a real job.”

When he sold a painting for $10,000 to Derrick Thomas, a former player on the University of Alabama football team, he took the check to his mother and she said, “You’ve got a real job, son.”

Skipper is now the only artist officially recognized by the University of Alabama and has created commemorative works for each of the team’s national football championships.

“The presence of God, and the fact that I have no formal training, and I can’t do it better than anyone else until I sit down in that chair in front of that easel and he puts his hands on top of mine —I think that’s the thrill,” he said.

Skipper’s story debuted as a documentary in November, and he said he could have “never imagined” the response it got. The film, called “Colors of Character,” sold out on DVD shortly after it was released. When theaters reopen as COVID-19 restrictions are lifted, Skipper said the movie might also play in theaters.

The movie is also available for download online. For more information or to watch the movie, visit colorsofcharactermovie.com.

He didn’t know it then, but Skipper said the next few years were the worst of his life. He started selling drugs at Homewood High School when he was 14, and by age 16, he was one of the gang leaders. But at this time, he was getting tired of being in the gang, he said.