Skip Brea

Forthcoming Collection of New Works

New work is currently in progress, and I’m excited to announce a couple of upcoming exhibitions at museums across the United States.

Exhibition at Museum of Fine Arts in Tallahassee

Artificial Cubism - A Study of Black Bodies in Art History

represents a pivotal moment in the ongoing dialogue between the worlds of traditional painting and digital media, especially within the arc of my work. This body of work reflects the beginning of a full merge between these two realms, exploring how both historical and contemporary visual practices can intersect to create new narratives. Through my canvas works and painted animations, I examine the ways in which cognitive responses to image perception and collage operate in both physical and digital spaces.

The paintings in Artificial Cubism are not only a reflection on the history of visual art, but a deconstruction and reconstruction of that history. By manipulating the elements of the historical painting canon, I aim to challenge the embedded narratives that have shaped how we understand visual culture. Much like artists such as Bill Viola and Jeff Wall, who have pushed the boundaries of their respective mediums, I experiment with the manipulation of both time and space, blurring the lines between the real and the artificial.

Bill Viola’s video art, for instance, manipulates time and movement to create emotionally charged pieces that stretch and transform the viewer’s perception of reality. His work brings a meditative, almost timeless quality to the video medium, creating immersive experiences that challenge linear conceptions of time. Similarly, Jeff Wall’s large-scale photographs reimagine the moment, using cinematic composition and theatrical lighting to suspend reality and invite the viewer into a narrative that feels both present and suspended in time. Both artists use their mediums to create new spaces for contemplation, where the past and present coexist in tension.

Artificial Cubism reflects this same desire to manipulate visual experience. By combining historical visual elements with contemporary digital techniques, I create layered commentaries on societal structures, power dynamics, and the shifting nature of reality in the digital age. The integration of digital illustration and traditional painting tools allows me to weave together disparate historical references and present-day imagery, forming unified compositions that question the boundaries between the real and the constructed.

This work challenges the notion of static, fixed representations in art by introducing a fluid, evolving visual language. In re-contextualizing canonical figures and spaces, I aim to redefine their significance, pulling them out of conventional compositions to give them new life and meaning in the digital era. Through this ongoing process of deconstruction and reinvention, Artificial Cubism explores how the digital landscape is reshaping our relationship with visual history, and asks: How does the future of painting look when filtered through the lens of new media technologies?

By integrating both digital and physical realms, Artificial Cubism explores how we might engage with the world of painting in an era where art, perception, and reality are increasingly mediated through screens. It is an invitation to consider what the future of art might look like when time, technology, and tradition collide.

Exhibitions Sponsored by The Dean Collection

According to Aristotle, "the soul never thinks without an image." Our ability to create and interpret images was fundamental to how we understood and navigated the world. Through art, individuals conceptualized their perceptions and expressed their understanding of the world in specific, nuanced ways. In this body of work, I aimed to articulate the connection between the artistic experience of studying the historical canon of painting and its role in enhancing cognitive processes, particularly how visual perception functioned as a form of thinking. More specifically, I explored the ways in which I engaged with the history before me and how I chose to deconstruct and reconstruct it. I argued that artistic practice served as a form of reasoning, allowing for a way of thinking with the senses. My reactionary approach to composing a painting reflected not only my individual perspective but also the narrative shaped by literary influences.

Art had the power to stimulate the imagination and push creative boundaries. This transformative potential was central to my creative process. Rather than focusing on literal, realistic representation, I sought to uncover an emotional, atmospheric truth. The geographical and cultural influences of the Bronx played a significant role in shaping my inquiry into how the environment of such a place influenced identity and experience. In this sense, the narrative of the work was not just a personal one, but one that reflected broader cultural contexts, beliefs, and histories. I was particularly interested in how beliefs and values, some foreign to contemporary views, could inform and propel the artistic practice. Additionally, I explored seeing the past through the lens of the present, offering a dynamic reinterpretation of history through modern perspectives and formats.

The foundation for the narratives in this work was drawn from a range of literary texts, including:

Between the World and Me by Ta-Nehisi Coates

From Niggas to Gods I & II by Akil

Drown by Junot Díaz

Bodega Dreams by Ernesto Quiñonez

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

And others

This creative process involved making connections, examining relationships, and constructing new ideas from fragmented imagery. These fragments, often derived from the historical canon of painting, were recombined in emergent, sometimes unexpected ways, resulting in compositions that were simultaneously accidental, provocative, and deeply meaningful. In doing so, my work engaged in dialogue with the literature, reflecting the dynamic intersection of visual art and storytelling.

I chose to present this body of work through two pop-up exhibitions, a decision rooted in my personal history and the influence of the Bronx. My initial goal was to bridge the gap between communities, creating an opportunity for mutual exchange. A pop-up exhibition, less formal than a gallery or museum show but more structured than a private viewing, offered a unique space for artistic engagement. The concept of the pop-up exhibition originated in New York City in 2007, as a response to the city's limited space for art exhibitions. Although it began in NYC, pop-up exhibitions had since become a global phenomenon. By presenting my work in the Bronx—the place where my artistic practice first began—I sought to return to my roots, sharing the space with those who had shaped my journey.

For me, the Bronx had always been a place of community and support. It was here that I found refuge and inspiration, particularly at "The Cove," a space where young people, like myself, could gather after school and connect. The Cove was a second home, a sanctuary that nurtured creativity and fostered a sense of belonging. It was also a place where individuals like Dee, the CEO of Ruff Ryders, gave back to the community, demonstrating the power of mentorship and shared success. To exhibit in such a space—one that had played such a pivotal role in my own development—was both an honor and a way to pay homage to the community that raised me.

Keith Haring once remarked, “I wanted to continue the same sort of communication as with the subway drawings. I wanted to attract the same wide range of people, and I wanted it to be a place where, yes, not only collectors could come, but also kids from the Bronx…” These words continued to resonate with me. Like Haring, I was committed to fostering dialogue between diverse communities, offering a space where art could be a tool for elevation and connection. By organizing two exhibitions, I aimed to facilitate a mutual exchange of ideas and perspectives, enabling both communities to learn from and support one another.

Exhibited at the Gadsden Arts Center & Museum

A Friend, With Friends

I explored the intersection of mythologies and history—how stories of resistance, survival, and freedom were often shaped and reinterpreted over time, filling in the gaps left by history's silence or distortion. The individuals depicted in the exhibition were more than just historical figures; they were symbols, mythologized both in their time and in ours. They occupied a liminal space where reality blended with fantasy, and the stories told about them were shaped by both fact and imagination.

The idea of mythology, particularly in the context of marginalized histories, was inherently tied to the way we remembered and narrated past events. Figures like Robert Smalls, Margaret Garner, and Henry "Box" Brown were often elevated to legendary status, their real, complex lives compressed into simplified tales of heroism and triumph. In doing so, we sometimes forgot the nuances and contradictions of their experiences. But mythology was not inherently a distortion; it also served as a powerful tool for cultural resilience. These figures were not only survivors but creators of their own mythologies, forging identities that transcended the systems meant to oppress them.

In this body of work, I engaged with these historical mythologies by filling in the gaps—those moments between the recorded facts, where history was silent, obscured, or manipulated. The stories of these individuals, as with all great mythologies, were incomplete; they were fragments that we tried to piece together from stories passed down through generations, from literature, and from archival records. But in the process of filling these gaps, we also injected a sense of fantasy—an imagination of what might have been, what was not said, what could have been left behind.

The figure of Margaret Garner, for example, was often reduced to a singular, tragic act: the killing of her child to save her from the horrors of slavery. But in reimagining her story, I sought to explore her as more than a victim. She became a figure of mythic resistance—her actions not merely the result of desperation, but a profound act of agency, one that challenged the viewer to reconsider notions of motherhood, power, and sacrifice in the face of unimaginable oppression. This was a form of filling in the gaps: recognizing the mythic quality of her actions without diminishing the real, painful context in which they occurred.

Similarly, the story of Henry "Box" Brown, who famously mailed himself to freedom, had taken on the air of a fantastical escape—a daring adventure so audacious that it seemed like fiction. Yet the gap between the myth and the reality lay in understanding the human will that drove such an act. The fantasy of "escaping the box" was not just a physical one, but a psychological, spiritual, and intellectual escape from the bounds of dehumanization. My portrayal of Brown explored this tension between myth and reality—how his act of self-liberation had evolved into a larger-than-life narrative, and how it continued to inspire the imagination of those who encountered it.

Fantasy, in the context of this exhibition, was not simply escapism, but a method of reclaiming and reshaping the stories that had been forced into silence. It was a tool for making the unseen visible, for amplifying voices that had been muted or erased by the dominant historical narratives. The mythologization of figures like Ellen and William Craft, whose escape from slavery involved Ellen’s passing as a white man, became a story not just of physical escape but of a transformative fantasy where identity itself was a tool of resistance. In reimagining this escape, I explored how fantasy and reality collided—how the very act of survival became a creation of self and story that challenged the systems of power that sought to define them.

The exhibition ultimately grappled with the power of mythology and fantasy as mechanisms for filling the gaps left by history, and how those gaps were crucial to the ongoing struggle for freedom and justice. By engaging with the mythological aspects of these stories, I aimed to resurrect their legacies, not just as historical facts, but as living, evolving narratives that continued to shape our understanding of the past, present, and future. In a world where the stories of marginalized communities were often manipulated or erased, fantasy became a radical act—a means of reclaiming agency, rewriting history, and imagining a world where the oppressed could reassert their place in the narrative.

Incorporating the theme of colorism, I was also drawn to the way skin tone, particularly lighter skin, had historically been both a tool of privilege and a source of tension within Black communities and beyond. The myths surrounding figures like Ellen Craft were complicated by the way her appearance allowed her to pass as a white man during her escape. This act of passing could be understood as an act of fantasy—a reconfiguration of identity in response to a world that valued lighter skin over darker tones. The legacy of colorism was not a mere footnote in these histories but a critical factor in understanding how these individuals navigated and resisted systems of racial oppression. The tension between light skin and dark skin, between acceptance and exclusion, became an ongoing struggle within the narrative of freedom.

This narrative extended into the lesser-known stories of individuals like those affected by albinism, whose lives had often been marked by violence and discrimination. In many African communities, people with albinism had faced horrific persecution, rooted in superstitions that their bodies held magical powers. These attacks were fueled by the deep-seated belief that light skin could confer power, and in these instances, the very thing that often afforded people privilege—lighter skin—became a death sentence. The violence and exclusion faced by those with albinism served as a reminder that colorism was not just about social status but also life and death. By bringing these untold stories into the exhibition, I sought to reframe the ways in which skin tone, whether light or dark, had shaped narratives of survival, resistance, and myth.

In A Friend, With Friends, the act of mythologizing these figures was not an exercise in distortion, but a way of reimagining history through the lens of resilience, creativity, and resistance. It was a celebration of the fantasy that existed in the gaps between what we knew and what we could only imagine—where the truth was not diminished, but transformed, and where the myth became a pathway to freedom. By engaging with colorism and the untold stories of marginalized bodies—whether those shaped by albinism, lighter skin, or darker skin tones—this work encouraged a rethinking of the ways in which we constructed identity and memory. Through these reimagined histories, we could begin to understand how the fullness of identity, the mythologies we created, and the stories we left behind shaped our fight for freedom, justice, and recognition.

Exhibited at the Richard E Peeler Arts Center

Digging Through Anthologies – Revisiting the Archives

Digging Through Anthologies marked the beginning of an ongoing exploration into the act of archiving and the power of historical narratives in shaping contemporary art. My journey into this exhibition began years ago when I first became captivated by the process of cataloging and analyzing the archives of Old Master paintings. Immersing myself in these anthologies, filled with centuries of visual tradition, opened a window into the complex stories and philosophies embedded within the paintings that had come to define Western art history. It was through this practice of digging through these archives—studying their layered symbolism, compositional structures, and historical contexts—that I began to rethink the way we mythologize art history and the stories that shape our understanding of the past.

As I sifted through these volumes, I found myself questioning the accepted narratives of art history and how they were constructed. What was left out? Who wrote these stories, and why were certain narratives elevated over others? This inquiry into the canon led me to reconsider how we gain inspiration from the artists before us. The mythologizing of the past often obscured the complexity and contradictions within the stories of these artists, leaving us with a sanitized or idealized version of their work. In Digging Through Anthologies, I aimed to excavate those layers, reimagining the past through contemporary lenses and questioning the power structures embedded in these historical records.

The archive became a fertile ground for reinterpreting how historical artworks functioned in today’s world. Much like how artists like Bill Viola and Jeff Wall had manipulated their respective media—transforming time, space, and perception—I began to think about how we might engage with the past in new, non-linear ways. Viola’s ability to stretch time and suspend it in moments of intense emotional and physical transformation had a parallel in my own work, where historical imagery and figures were recontextualized to question the boundaries between reality and artifice. Similarly, Jeff Wall’s meticulously staged photographs acted as modern mythologies, blending the real with the constructed. This ability to disrupt and reframe time and perception inspired me to ask: How could we use the past not just as a reference point, but as an active participant in reshaping contemporary narratives?

Through Digging Through Anthologies, I invited the viewer into this process of excavation. The works in the show—whether in paint or digital media—were not mere homages to the past but attempts to bridge the gap between historical art and the present. By reassembling fragmented elements from historical paintings and contemporary influences, I created new visual narratives that challenged traditional views of art history. The result was a reimagining of the canon, one where the past was not static, but a living, breathing entity that continued to evolve in the face of new interpretations.

This body of work was an exercise in archival revisionism, asking how we could actively engage with the myths of the past in order to create more inclusive, dynamic histories. Digging Through Anthologies was a meditation on the ways in which we look back to move forward—finding inspiration in the forgotten, the overlooked, and the hidden truths buried within the stories of artists before us.

Process & Exploration

The process of my work has unfolded as an ongoing investigation of both traditional and contemporary media, with each phase reflecting an evolving relationship to the concept of painting. At its core, my work begins with a classical approach—oil and acrylic on canvas or panel. These traditional methods remain the bedrock of the practice, offering a familiar space from which to explore more complex ideas. However, rather than allowing the process to remain confined to a single medium or surface, the works take on multiple forms as they evolve. Often, I begin by creating a painting, then reimagine it through other processes such as printing, followed by additional layers of paint. This layering technique opens up a dialogue between different modes of representation—where painting, print, and the digital image coexist, each informing and transforming the others. The physical and the digital are no longer distinct, but instead merge into a single narrative, one that challenges traditional boundaries while interrogating the nature of image-making in the contemporary era.

As my practice has developed, the integration of digital technologies has introduced a new dimension to the work. Beyond the physical realm of paint, the images are manipulated on screens, projected as animated sequences, and paired with sound. These technological elements disrupt the static nature of painting, creating an experience that is both temporal and immersive. The animation, in particular, introduces a sense of movement and change, while the soundscapes ground the work in a more visceral, sensory space. This shift from the static to the dynamic invites viewers to engage with the work in ways that are both intellectual and embodied, pushing the boundaries of how we understand and experience painting. In many ways, this transformation reflects my ongoing exploration of time, materiality, and perception—how images are created, altered, and consumed across different media, and how these shifting forms reshape our understanding of identity, memory, and history.

Despite the incorporation of these new media, I continue to regard these works as paintings. The term "painting" is not limited to its traditional associations but is redefined in the context of contemporary practices. What remains constant is the underlying desire to engage with the rich history of the medium while exploring the possibilities it offers in the present moment. The work does not abandon the principles of painting; rather, it expands them, acknowledging the complexities of our current visual culture. Through this process, I aim to both challenge and uphold the legacy of painting, allowing it to evolve as a living, adaptable form that speaks to the complexities of our time.