Riverdale photographer William Cleary turns adversity into artistic success

Once struggling with professional opportunity because of his cerebral palsy, 62-year-old William Cleary is now going on a decade as a local photographer whose work spans everything from landscape to real estate.

Cleary moved to Riverdale 30 years ago while pursuing a career in television and radio. After losing his job in 2016, Cleary went all in on photography, which had previously just been a pastime. He has no mobility in his right hand, and sometimes a slight limp in his right leg, but uses a tripod camera attachment to capture familiar sites like Wave Hill and Van Cortlandt Park. Most recently, on May 22, he placed third in the the New York Landmarks Conservancy’s annual Sacred Site Open House Photo Contest for a photo of Christ Church Riverdale.

“This is the happiest I’ve been in my life,” Cleary, who is also a volunteer at Wave Hill, said.

Cleary was born on Long Island to a father who worked in restaurants and real estate, and a mother who was a church cook and a nurse’s aid. When he was two months old, his parents noticed him only picking things up with his left hand, and Cleary was diagnosed with hemiplegia, a form of cerebral palsy affecting one side of the body. He never considered himself disabled, and played several sports as a kid, but a creative outlet didn’t come as easily.

Cleary recalled one instance in high school when his aunt gifted him a camera. The shutter button was on the right side, out of reach from his left hand, so he would turn it upside down to shoot. Each time they were developed, the photos came back distorted or out of focus.

In an act of frustration, Cleary lobbed the camera across the living room, where it fell between the couch cushions, never to be retrieved again. He didn’t return to the craft until decades later.

As a child, he was also reconciling the death of his father, who died from a heart attack when Cleary was in fourth grade. Cleary recalled him crouched over near the bed, sweating profusely, and requesting Cleary bring him a copy of the newspaper as a distraction. With the wail of an ambulance and the flash of lights, Cleary, his mother, his two brothers and two sisters, were left to mourn. Cleary said he wondered who he’d be if his dad was still alive.

Cleary went on to work at several major TV production outlets, securing roles in the stockroom or as a mail clerk, with the aspiration of taking on a bigger job. He looked up to Bree Walker, a news anchor with ectrodactyly, a condition where fingers or toes are missing or malformed. But, he said he was unable to move up in the industry, something that made him feel overlooked.

People with disabilities have a harder time finding employment, Cleary said, and “it’s not because they don’t want to work, it’s because they’re not given a chance to showcase what they can do.”

In his 30s, Cleary picked the camera back up. His niece had an interest in photography, and when she graduated college, family members gifted her an array of equipment. Cleary said his wheels started turning.

In this day and age, Cleary thought, there had to be something else for a left-handed person. While there weren’t any cameras, there was a handheld attachment with a trigger on it that activated the shutter button.

“I felt like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, because I could finally do something,” Cleary said.

He was in Van Cortlandt Park, taking an abundance of photos, when the part jammed. He returned to the video store to find it wasn’t compliant with his camera model, and said his jaw dropped. He was in the same place he had been before — “discouraged, aggravated, angry, depressed.” Cleary took a painfully long train ride home and flung his camera across the room once more. But it was different this time, the lens seemed to have landed in a way where it was looking at him.

“Something inside of me said, ‘You’re gonna make this work,’” Cleary said. He shifted the camera in his hand until the lever rested on his wrist, allowing him to curl his fingers over, comfortably reaching the shutter.

About a decade later, Cleary was laid off. It was the final push for him to pursue photography full time. He started posting his work on social media, which he said community members responded positively to, especially during the Covid-19 pandemic. In the last few years, he’s had exhibits at An Beal Bocht, the Riverdale-Yonkers Society for Ethical Culture and with the Riverdale Art Association.

Cleary’s work ranges widely, centering around subjects that “catch a person’s interest,” he said — colors, shapes, reflections, patterns. His portfolio includes street shots from the 242nd Street subway station, the changing seasons in Van Cortlandt Park or simply the light reflecting from his apartment window.

Throughout his life, Cleary said he learned to persevere despite skepticism. He hopes others will focus more on what people with disabilities are capable of accomplishing rather than on their limitations.

“You’re looking at a person who … has learned to do photography with one hand,” Cleary said. “Don’t prejudge people on what they can or can’t do.”