Steven Shearer is a quiet man. He’s elusive, too, shy and reclusive. He is difficult to pin down for an interview. And once you have, it is tough to get him talking. Maybe the Canadian artist thinks his work – spanning 40 years and multiple media, including stunning paintings of long-haired teens, collages of appropriated images, and billboard-sized poetry inspired by heavy metal lyrics – speaks for itself. But Shearer’s work doesn’t really speak, at least not clearly; it mumbles awkwardly into its sleeve like a goth at a family Easter picnic.
“I wrote down lots of potential things to say,” he says from his immaculate white studio in Vancouver, ahead of his show at David Zwirner Gallery in London, his first UK exhibition since 2007, “but it’s not my nature. All the hope or will to be able to communicate kind of goes into the pictures. And I try to stay out of the way once that’s happened.”
