Schulim Krimper entered my young life of artistic fascination at the age of approximately fourteen when, with my friend Bernard, I would visit his father’s delicatessen in High Street, St Kilda. After a raid on some of the deli’s special treats, we would wander up to Krimper’s workshop, also on High Street, and peer in the window and see his lamps and small articles of wood, and wood-turning chisels resting on the new furniture being created.
As I grew into my horrible and delinquent teens I would scour the homes of my friends in search of Krimper’s furniture. I would often find fine examples of his work in domestic use. I would be questioned by my friends who were more interested in the radiogram in the lounge playing rock music, or the images on their first black and white television set, on why I my attention was drawn to this modern unique furniture.
As a teen, not wanting to be out of the gang, I would say nothing, but in my mind I could see no difference between a beautiful painting and a piece of Mr Krimper’s artistic creation – other than the medium. I had aspirations that one day I would own an example of one of these extraordinary masterpieces myself. Five decades later I have a very special dining suite – which I first saw as a teenager – one of the master’s works in my own home.
Krimper’s passion for a product of nature, namely wood, turned grain into brush strokes of beauty. And the palette he used needed no mixing but only the touch and understanding of his artistic genius.