
Fitzgerald was born in St. Pete, but spent some of his adolescence in Atlanta before returning to the Bay area after high school. The cultural differences between the cities shaped who he is today. “I was able to see myself in a lot of different shoes. Whereas here, there may be three pairs of shoes, or three ways you could live life,” he told Creative Loafing Tampa Bay.
Someone’s possibilities weren’t limited by their race. “Every version of a person—Black, white, and Central American—there were people you could see living a life you might want to live,” he added.
Atlanta changed his views on society. After 10th grade, he bet on himself and decided he wanted to be an artist. Back in St. Pete, Fitzgerald worked with various local art studios, businesses, and creators before breaking through the scene himself with original creative collage works.
“It was me filtering everything I had ever looked at in my life out into these images,” he said. “I was building my own world through these collages.”
One of his shows, built around collage, sold-out. But it wasn’t enough. Fitzgerald was at the peak of his collage era, but he wanted to reinvent his artistic identity. “I wanted to make real quality art, something that someone could have in their house and give to their grandkids,” he said.
In 2021, he started painting with a simple mission: to be the best. Self-taught, he dove into the work of Matisse, Henry Taylor and Théodore Géricault. He became obsessed with abstract impressionists and went through “a weird George Condo phase.” From 5 p.m.-10 p.m. every night, he would just paint. “Everyone says you gotta believe, but you really just have to go for it and make sure it happens. To become a great painter, I painted more than other people paint. I paint almost every day,” Fitzgerald said.
He started with cowboy-themed work—revolvers, hats, and desert landscapes—then found his niche in portraits with the help of a close friend who let Fitzgerald paint them as a practice figure. It was around then that he realized the lack of Black representation throughout the history of fine art; he then made a distinct decision to paint mostly Black figures.
From then on, Fitzgerald started painting the people around him and focused on capturing their leisurely moments with a goal in mind. “I wanted to make fine art that wasn’t just speaking to Black people in the way of imagery and representation, but speaking to the cultural nuances of America,” he said.
By the time of his “Who Do You Know” exhibit at the Tampa Edition, which the artist described as “a show about the artistic lifestyle,” Raheem had painted enough portraits to fill a rooftop and keep hundreds of guests mesmerized by his work. In fitting fashion, a piece in the collection called “My Cherie Amour” was included. Its description read, “The title text from Raheem’s favorite Stevie Wonder song tucked behind Lundyn, the person Raheem portrays the most.” The highlight of the portrait, an ode to the same friend he first started painting, speaks volumes about the artist’s character.
Besides Fisher’s studio, Fitzgerald enjoys the Dalí and the Museum of Fine Arts. The “Florida’s Historical Heritage” sculpture by Tampa artist Harrison Covington on the parking garage near Ruby’s Elixir is one of his personal favorites, too.
“It’s like, there are these little hidden pockets where the St. Pete art scene shows signs of life, but then there are moments where I think it’s something I don’t want to necessarily be a part of,” Fitzgerald explained after being asked to think about the local art culture’s impact on him. “There are a lot of answers to that, and it has a lot of layers. A lot of it has to do with people’s understanding of art.”
What can anyone really understand about Fitzgerald when he explains that he’s from St. Pete?
“Do they think I’m making bright paintings of flamingos? Or Alec Monopoly ripoffs combined with Basquiat? So it becomes a little bit of that,” he said.
Fitzgerald—who’s also working on a coffee table book—sometimes feels Tampa Bay’s fine arts culture isn’t taken as seriously as the scenes in other cities. He wants to work with others to change that—and wonders about his place here.
“As an artist in the Tampa Bay area, there have been times where I feel like this isn’t the best place to be in the world as a young, Black painter, at all,” Fitzgerald said bluntly. “I think there were times that people didn’t want to let me play in the reindeer games, so I started making a game of my own. Through people not necessarily including me, I learned how to include myself. I banked on greatness.”
So he put himself in places where he would have access to not just paint and brushes, but people who could help him follow the dream, including Carol Bristol, who opened Gallerie 909. He also hosts a show on St. Pete’s underground Sector.FM.
“It is what it is. I think recently I’ve been able to put my blinders on to it all, but after the intensity of the election, everything is so in the forefront that you can’t really look away right now,” Fitzgerald added.
The difference between Raheem’s first and most recent exhibit shows just how far he’s come. And he’s just getting started.
“I got to see different levels of society. The people I interacted with on that rooftop who were buying the work, and the people at my first art show are very different, and in different parts of society,” he said. “Art has been able to change my life. I found a living doing something I really love, and that I’m very thankful for, but it’s not an accident. I am inevitable.”
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This article appears in Jan 16-22, 2025.



