Introduction Migration Dreams: Painted Streets
Miami, as a city, has elicited dramatic pronouncements. Alex Stepick, Guillermo Grenier, Max Castro, and Marvin Dunn, in This Land is Our Land: Immigrants and Power in Miami, declare “MIAMI: CAPITAL OF LATIN AMERICA.”1 Jean-François LeJeune, in “Dreams of Cities,” calls “Miami … the unexpected capital of the Caribbean, a gigantic ‘Ellis Island.’”2 Alejandro Portes and Alex Stepick, in City on the Edge, saliently write, that “for Caribbean immigrants, ‘America’ did not mean Arkansas or North Dakota, but, almost exclusively, New York and Miami.”3 Alejandro Portes and Ariel C. Armony sound a more cautionary note, however, in The Global Edge: Miami in the 21st Century, rhetorically asking, “The ‘Capital’ of Latin America …?,” before retorting: “It is a common saying that Miami is the capital of Latin America. It is also inaccurate.”4 Still, these exemplary quotations certainly raise salient questions about the City of Miami. What would it mean for Miami, the southernmost major city in the continental United States of America, to be (or even to be called) the “capital” of Latin America? Or the “capital” of the Caribbean? Particularly since Miami is not even—officially—the state capitol of Florida? And yet, in alignment with these assertions, and despite protestations to the contrary, Miami—as a Caribbean, Central American, and South American diasporic switching point for myriad arrivals and multiple departures, sometimes several times a year—is arguably one capitol among many in the larger complex (and transnational) geography defined as “Nuestra América” (Our America)—Latinx and Caribbean. Miami, then, stands alongside México City, Habana, San Juan, Port-au-Prince, Santo Domingo, Bogota, Caracas, Lima, Rio De Janeiro, Buenos Aires, and other capital cities as a distinctly Caribbean or Latin American city, ciudad, cidade, or cité—infused with the rhythms, cadences, and syncopated styles of multiple languages and countries across these continents, these diverse Americas. Still, Portes and Armony’s protest is noted, if not fully conceded. Miami both is one Caribbean or Latin American capitol, but it is also not the capitol of the Caribbean and Latin America, despite its being a hemispheric center of finance, migration, real estate development, foreign investment, even international money laundering, and coup d’état planning, regrettably, but also a city of Caribbean, Latin, and even world arts, as well as an incubator for cosmopolitanism and myriad, diverse cultures, despite its inarguably and distinctly Antillean or Latinx flairs. By population and ethnic demographics too, the city is largely, though obviously not exclusively, a Latinx community: the Latinx-mix majority is, of course, further diversified by other ethnic groups, including Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Bajans, Bahamians, and other immigrant communities from the English-speaking Caribbean but also African immigrants, Asian immigrants, as well as European, Middle Eastern, Ukrainian, Russian, and myriad
others (hailing from all over the vast globe). Miami, as a city, is, though, an ethnic minority “majority” population, and that demographic majority is Latinx: indeed, by 2014, the Latinx communities (diverse and multiethnic) composed “the absolute majority,” of Miami’s population, a full 66%, with African Americans or Black Miamians constituting 16.7%, and individuals of European descent forming merely 14.7% of the population, “having declined from 61.1 percent in 1960.”5
Miami is, tout simple, one of the northernmost cities, alongside New Orleans, in the Antillean archipelagic expanse—unless one also counts, diasporically and demographically, New York, Montréal, or Toronto. Like those other North American cities, New York, Montréal, Toronto, and New Orleans, Miami is home to many Caribbean dyasporas who have migrated and settled in the south Florida metropolitan city; but unlike any other city in the southeastern United States, including New Orleans, Miami is undeniably a Latin city, an Antillean city, a city of Spanish, Portuguese, Kreyòl, plantains, mangoes, salsa, konpa, reggaetón, and other Latin-jazz and fusion beats, and daily departures to Santo Domingo, San Juan, Caracas, Rio de Janeiro, Port-au-Prince, and now also Habana. Miami is a cultural mélange of Latinness and Caribbeanness; a polyglot mix of Spanish, Portuguese, Kreyòl, yes, but also Yiddish, Hebrew, Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, Italian, French, Vietnamese, and, of course, English and various Caribbean and African inflections. Miami is transnational and transient, cosmopolitan and local, a diasporic switching point for those departing and for those entering the Americas. As Guillermo J. Grenier and Alex Stepick, writing just after the end of the Cold War and in the final decade of the 20th century, way back in 1992, wrote: “Miami now has the largest proportion of foreign-born residents of any U.S. city, one-third of its population compared to less than one-quarter for either New York or Los Angeles. It ranks second only to New York in foreign banks and international airlines, and Latin America’s elite and middle classes shop in Miami more than anywhere else.”6 This influence, though, was not and is not merely demographic, cultural, and linguistic; it is also financial, technological, and geopolitical. “Candidates for the Colombian presidency campaign in Miami, and the Nicaraguan Contra war,” as Grenier and Stepick saliently explain, may well have been “planned over ‘tres leches’ in Miami restaurants.”7 And so with coup d’états and planned political assassinations in Haiti (par example, the late Jovenel Moïse) as lamentably turned out to be the case.8
Near the end of the second decade in the 21st century, in 2018, Alejandro Portes and Ariel C. Armony, in The Global Edge: Miami in the Twenty-First Century, further note that foreign-born Miamians “now exceed half of the population (51.6 percent)” of Miami-Dade County with about “90 percent from Latin America and the Caribbean.”9 Portes and Armony, following Saskia Sassen’s now classic The Global City (1991)10 and Jan Nijman’s Miami: Mistress of the Americas (2011), which calls it a “world city,”11 also defines Miami as a “global city” with all the characteristic features (international prominence, digitally linked, transnationally connected, global capitalistically dominant): “First,” Portes and Armony write, “the city is an economic entrepôt—the place where trade and financial flows from the global North and East encounter those from the South. There is no better meeting place to do business between Europe, North America, and South America than Miami. This is one of the reasons for the rapid growth of banks, both foreign and domestic, here. It is also reflected in trade flows in and out of the city.”12 Portes and Armony elaborate this point in concrete, monetary terms: “In 2014, Miami’s inter-national trade reached US$69.8 billion, of which almost half was with Latin American and Caribbean countries. Of the ten principal trading partners
of the city, eight were Latin American nations.”13 Or, as Nijman explains in his book, Miami’s metropolitan zone is a world city, belonging simultaneously to everyone and, ironically, no one:
Metropolitan Miami does not belong to the Miccosukee, not to the Cubans (despite what some may think), not to African Americans, not to the remaining Anglos, not to Jews, not to Haitians, not to U.S. citizens, and not to any particular group of domestic or foreign immigrants. When it comes to the “right to the city,” it is difficult indeed to privilege any particular group. When it comes to expectations of assimilation, it is quite impossible to designate a legitimate target or purpose. Assimilate to what?14
Part of what Nijman defines as the paradoxical “everywhereness” and “nowhereness” of Miami, its extensive globality and its intensive locality, is differently described by sociologists Grenier and Stepick (in their co-authored book Miami Now!): “People write about Miami as if it were a foreign land. It’s not. It’s the multicultural crest of the wave of the American future.”15 A utopic vision sans doute. Miami is, without doubt, a global city, and it is indisputably the meeting point of North and South America; it is the nexus, or one nexus, of the Caribbean archipelago; it is thus also a Latin American city; an American hemispheric city; and an Antillean or Caribbean city—overwhelmingly Cubano , but also Haïtien , Boriqueño , and so on. Miami is, as Michel Laguerre defines it, a “transnational city” and a city of transients—tourists, visitors, migrants, return migrants, and “diasporic citizens.”16 Portes and Armony, in their critical introduction entitled “A City in Flux,” assert, accurately, that “urban phenomena” are both political and spatial.17 To this bipartite structure, I would also add a third element: urban phenomena are also aesthetic. Joseph Treaster, in a 2019 article published in the New York Times , even proclaims that “Miami has become one of the street art capitals of the world.” 18 Miami has unquestionably become an urban art mecca internationally. “The arts and culture world,” as Portes and Armony further explain, “has grown apace with the city’s transformation,” further noting that the “organizers of Art Basel, a major show in Miami Beach, pretty much get what they want from city and metro authorities to facilitate their annual extravaganza” while “well-heeled tourists arrive by the thousands during Art Basel, leaving behind significant sums.” Art Basel and its infusions of cash, collectors, curators, and connoisseurs also led to the city’s greenlighting and fast-tracking of “the Pérez Art Miami Museum (PAMM), built, in part, with the donations of billionaire developer, Jorge Pérez.”19
These dynamic registers—capitalistic, artistic, diasporic, transnational, and global—define the City of Miami but have also become articulated fault lines in the metropolitan zone, contested terrains in political battles to determine who has and who will have (or continue to have) the right to live, dwell, and paint the futures of Miami-Dade. The three neighborhoods analyzed in Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami —Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti—reveal these tensions and the urban transformations at play in the City of Miami. To be sure, these artistic, geographic, and political transformations have occurred not only in the “global city” of metropolitan Miami, or downtown but also in its local scenes, its smaller neighborhoods, and its myriad street artists and muralists—some internationally known, others locally homegrown. Art, of course, has been foundational to the urban
development plan for Miami’s global forays into finance, commerce, tourism, and cosmopolitanism, as revealed by former Miami mayor Manny Díaz in his memoir Miami Transformed :
I began with this idea: a great city like Miami deserves great places of art. Not only do the arts generate thousands of jobs and billions of dollars in tourism, but art is one of the few areas of civic life with low barriers to entry. It builds ties between neighbors and communities that become particularly important in a city with such a diverse population.20
Cosmopolitan Miami: Latin Miami: Caribbean Miami: this complex urban site constitutes the canvas, walls, streets, sidewalks, buildings, and metropolitan landscapes, hardscapes, and muralscapes of the city.21 Miami, as a global city, also reveals the creative collisions, cross-fertilizations, and structural interstices between art, finance, real estate, urban development, and gentrification, including climate gentrification, all of which are within the intellectual scope and the critical focus of Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami. In the book, I argue that Caribbean and Latinx muralists paint a cosmopolitan Miami into existence, participate in global and local art economies, and still create diasporic static and transnational visual noise that critiques the financial flows in the city and in its urban “art corridor.” In other words, Caribbean and Latinx muralists paint Miami’s streets in ways that visually mark the metropolitan zone with an iconic, inclusive, eclectic cosmopolitanism, yet they also register diasporic presences and create transnational artistic claims to Miami’s urban space and its urban neighborhoods. Doing so, Caribbean and Latinx muralists in Miami paint at the complicated interface of creativity and commerce.
0.1 Global (Arts) City
“Miami’s entrance into the art world,” writes Franklin Sirmans, famed art critic and current director of Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM), “began with global attention being directed to public spaces,” and that moment first arrived in “1983, when Christo wrapped islands in Biscayne Bay in pink fabric,” a performative, public art installation organized by the “museum’s founding director.”22 In 2019, 36 years after Christo’s public performance art/event in Miami, PAMM exhibited photographs and artifacts in honor of Christo. The performative art event (1983) and its photographic exhibition (2019) mark two chronological points in the metropolitan and artistic coming-of-age of Miami as a global arts city. As part of this coming-of-age, Art|Basel, first hosted by Miami Beach in 2001, has also figured prominently: Miami Beach hosts Art|Basel, annually, in early December, and the City of Miami also hosts and features international, hemispheric, and local artists during its own Art Miami and the Miami Art Week, both also held during early December. Miami is also home to the PAMM, a major collection of Caribbean and Latin American art, and to Wynwood Walls, which Tony Goldman developed and which Jeffrey Deitch famously called “the museum of the streets,”23 the Institute of Contemporary Art, and more recently, also to the Museum of Graffiti and the Museum of Contemporary Art (MOCA) in North Miami. These annual art fairs, exhibits, events, and institutions have all collectively marked metropolitan Miami as a global arts city. Miami is also, tout simple, the geographical stage for this book and the murals painted on its streets.
Miami’s metropolitan and artistic coming-of-age was almost four decades in the making—roughly, from the last two decades of the 20th century through the first two decades of the 21st century, or, as Sirmans marks time, from 1983 through 2019. I provide first, then, a broad historical retrospective on the arts scene in Miami and the transformation of the city into a global arts destination. In what follows, I overview the founding of major art institutions, including the PAMM and the Arsht Center for Performing Arts, as well as the inauguration of major art exhibits and events in the greater metropolitan Miami area, including Art|Basel Miami Beach, Art Miami, and Miami Art Week, placing these artistic moments in the larger historical, geopolitical, and urban development fabric of the City of Miami and Dade Country over the past few decades. This story begins in the 1980s. It continues without end.
The mid-to-late 1980s was, indeed, a formative period for the arts in Miami: in 1984, the Art Museum of Miami-Dade County (AMM) was founded, and in 1989, preliminary plans were also made by the Miami-Dade County Commission for a Miami Performing Arts Center. In 1989, the city also hosted Art Miami, “the city’s longest-running fair,” which started in Wynwood and later relocated to 14th Street and Biscayne Bay at the former Miami Herald site, and now also includes local and emergent artists at its concomitant art fair CONTEXT.”24 Within the first decade of the 21st century, or soon thereafter, the Performing Arts Center (in 2001), the Art Museum of Miami-Dade25 (in 2010), and also the Frost Science Museum26 (in 2012) all had broken ground and later opened (or reopened) in new buildings east of Biscayne Boulevard, known as Museum Park, and overlooking beautiful Biscayne Bay.
In 2001, just after the turn of the millennium, Art|Basel was first staged in Miami Beach, and the City of Miami also hosted its inaugural Miami Art Week. During the first week in December every year, “Art|Basel in Miami Beach is the main event, with 268 of the world’s top galleries showcasing modern, contemporary, and cutting-edge work. Most everything is for sale. It is a sister fair to Art Basel, held each June in Switzerland. It is held at the Miami Beach Convention Center, located at 1900 Convention Center Drive,” but other events and exhibits are staged throughout Miami Beach and greater Miami.27 Art|Basel has now inaugurated “Art Basel Cities[,] a new initiative that launched in September 2018 in Buenos Aires, Argentina [and which] brings the art fair to a different international city annually.”28 Sans doute, Art|Basel has added to the international prestige of Miami and other Latin American cities, like Buenos Aires, as global art cities: art annuals and biennials, museums, and festivals are all well-known ways of branding a city, placing it on the international tourist map as a worldwide destination.29 Art economies, art as commodity, and the machinations of global capitalism, of course, all play active roles in this international tourism circuitry, but not without dissent and dissenters. Global capitalism elicits anti-globalization protests as it has at least since 1999 (with the “Battle for Seattle”) and after, and international art economies, art as commodity, and branded global art cities also provoke and inspire performed and performative art/dissent. These phenomena are distinct, yet interrelated ones.
Two years later, in 2003, the United States and the US Treasury hosted the Free Trade Agreement of the Americas (FTAA) meeting in Miami, which also brought major anti-globalization protests throughout the city; ultimately, the protesters and dissident countries in the American hemisphere were successful in scuttling the FTAA from passing. Despite the failure of the George W. Bush Administration, embroiled in its infamous global terror war and “coalition of the willing” post-9/11, to pass the FTAA, the city continued to be a hub for international finance, foreign investment, and real estate development, marking a
period christened as “Miami Manhattanization,” which witnessed the “rapid expansion of high-rise buildings and architecture in Miami, altering the city’s skyline”; in fact, 20 of the “city’s 25 highest buildings” were built in one year alone—2005. The Arsht Performing Arts Center, then the Carnival Performing Arts Center, was part of this building boom and arts (and finance) transformation of the city. The Arsht Performing Arts Center (then Carnival) opened in autumn 2006, and an urban arts zone with condominiums, bars, bistros, and boutiques soon developed around the center, which was renamed after Adrienne Arsht donated US$30 million to secure the financial future of the center in 2008.30
The Arsht is now home to the Florida Grand Opera, the Miami City Ballet, and the New World Symphony, as well as to several visual art installations and exhibits, including an outdoor sculpture garden.
Although the “construction and architecture boom slowed after 2008 [with] the onset of the great recession,”31 defined by the momentous financial collapse of Lehman Brothers and the onset of the subprime mortgage crisis, which had global economic and recessionary effects, the city nevertheless rebounded as early as 2010, and high-rise construction continued almost unabated after a short two-year hiatus or pause.32 Shortly thereafter, the Occupy Wall Street movement erupted at Zuccotti Park in Manhattan and quickly spread across major US cities, including Miami, and beyond in other hemispheric cities, protesting the idea that investment banks were “too big to fail” and must be bailed out, while average Americans (and Miamians), those living on Main Street, or homeless, sidewalk dwellers, did not deserve to be bailed out (of mortgage debt, student loan debt, consumer debt, medical debt, et cetera). The high-rise boom and the affiliated international finance in real estate, infamously tainted by rumors and realities of money laundering, exacerbated these economic divides and social disparities.
Miami’s cityscapes were being rapidly and radically transformed not only by architects, real estate developers, and urban planners but also by urban developers with a cultural slant or artistic bend: in one striking instance, the Soho-renowned urban developer Tony Goldman, who, in 2009, following graffiti artists, muralists, and local artists there, altered the once abandoned warehouses, derelict buildings, flat, emptied-out landscapes, and desolate streetscapes of Wynwood, historically a Puerto Rican neighborhood, into a thriving arts district: Wynwood Walls. As Goldman explained in 2009: “Wynwood’s large stock of warehouse buildings, all with no windows, would be my giant canvases to bring to them the greatest street art ever seen in one place.”33 Goldman Properties had been involved in the development and transformation of several significant urban zones, including the Upper West Side, the Wall Street Financial District, and Soho in New York City,34 Center City in Philadelphia, and South Beach in Miami-Dade. As Goldman Properties proclaims: “We create magic in places often overlooked.”35 Since opening in 2010, Wynwood Walls has annually participated in Miami Art Week and Art|Basel, hosting opening night parties and events, artist talks, gallery viewings for collectors, and also sponsoring street artists and muralists who create live, on-site installations in the neighborhood, including, over the past 13 years, Shepard Fairey, Kenny Scharf, Futura, Ron English, Logan Hicks, Alexis Díaz, Tatiana Suarez, and many others. After opening Wynwood Walls, Goldman Properties also launched annual themes, including “Women on the Walls” in 2013 and the “Art of Collaboration” in 2014, both during Art|Basel, the first promoting women muralists and the second supporting collaborative creation among two or more artists. Other successes followed: Goldman Properties opened Wynwood Doors and Garden in 2015, started Goldman Global Arts, co-founded with Tunney, in 2015, supported Outside the Walls (murals installed beyond the Wynwood Walls
complex), and later inaugurated the “Walls of Change” program, also in 2015, with featured artists to support urban innovation, creation, and transformation, or “art as an ignition for change.”36 This metamorphosis of Wynwood—simultaneously, urban, artistic, and capitalist—is foregrounded in Chapter 2: Wynwood, the first of three chapters about Miami’s urban “art corridor,” a geographical zone running from 20th Street up to 79th Street, south to north, and from NE 2nd Avenue to NW 5th Avenue, east to west.
The founding of Wynwood Walls, momentous as it was and remains, was not, however, the only major urban art frontier of 2010 for Miami-Dade. It was also in 2010 that construction began on the new building for the PAMM—a US$131 million building for which Jorge M. Pérez donated US$35 million over a ten-year period. In 2013, the Art Museum Miami-Dade (AMM) reopened in its new building overlooking Biscayne Bay and was renamed the Jorge M. Pérez Art Museum of Miami-Dade County (PAMM), although this rechristening and decision was not uncontroversial. Located at 1103 Biscayne Boulevard in Museum Park37 (also Maurice A. Ferré Park after the Miami mayor who served four terms), the new site, near downtown and also close to the MacArthur Causeway, the intercoastal bridge, unites the City of Miami to the City of Miami Beach and draws in local visitors and tourists on the island as well as from surrounding areas in south Florida. Two years later, in 2015, the PAMM Board of Trustees appointed Franklin Sirmans as the museum’s director,38 and under his artistic vision and curatorial direction, the museum has become world-class. Pérez’s vision and Sirmans’ curation are mirrored in the architectural majesty of the PAMM building itself. As Sirmans notes, the building is an architectural innovation, “fluidly inside/ outside,” incorporating art into the architectonics and into the landscape.39 Located on the edge of the Biscayne Bay, illuminated at night, columns, beams, steps, geometric lines, glass, wood, and steel, the magnificent PAMM building is indeed striking to behold.
Despite the beginning of the global pandemic in 2020,40 the year also marked key anniversaries for both Wynwood Walls and the PAMM. The tenth anniversary of Wynwood Walls was marked and honored by three publications: it was featured on the cover of the December 2018/January 2019 issue of Indulge magazine, published by the Miami Herald; and the anniversary was also mentioned in feature articles in both Forbes41 and Architectural Digest. 42 Written by Los Angeles-based journalist and travel writer Theresa Christine, the Forbes article featured Jessica Goldman Srebnick, the late Tony Goldman’s daughter, who was designated CEO of Goldman Properties shortly before her father’s death in 2012 and also named lead curator of Wynwood Walls and Goldman Global Arts. As curator, Goldman Srebnick has foregrounded themes and new initiatives, including “Women on the Wall,” “Art of Collaboration,” and “Walls of Change,” as well as overseen the anniversary publication of Walls of Change: The Story of Wynwood Walls, released in November 2019. The book was an editorial collaboration between Jessica Goldman Srebnick, Hal Rubinstein, Franklin Sirmans, who wrote the book’s Foreword, and Martha Cooper, whose art photography masterfully documented and continues to archivally document the murals (even as some are actually erased and painted over). As Theresa Christine writes of Wynwood Walls: “They have officially welcomed over 100 artists who have created street art covering over 80,000 square feet, and this international destination sees over 3 million visitors every year.”43
Published in October 2019 and written by Paul Laster, the Architectural Digest article focused on the entire Goldman family, the visionary CEO Tony Goldman, but also his son Joey Goldman, who first brought the warehouse district to his father’s attention, and his daughter Jessica Goldman Srebnick, but also—and significantly—the urban importance of Wynwood Walls to the City of Miami, to Dade County, and to its metropolitan
expansion and urban development. “There would be no Wynwood without Wynwood Walls. Where I saw warehouses, Tony Goldman saw an outdoor art museum. That’s the difference between a visionary and the average Joe,” as William D. Talbert, President and CEO of the Greater Miami Convention and Visitors Bureau told Architectural Digest in 2019.44 (We rebut, of course, the absurd idea that Wynwood would not exist without Wynwood Walls.) Miami mayor Francis Suarez also recounts that the Goldman family transformed Wynwood “unconventionally, through creativity. When you have that kind of vision, you create places as opposed to buildings. They turned what was once an undesirable, impoverished, and crime-ridden area into one of the most iconic, most visited neighborhoods in the city.”45 Laster mentions both the forthcoming publication of Walls of Change and the creation of the Goldman Global Arts initiative, which commissioned five international artists (Tristan Eaton, Dasic Fernández, Joe Iurato, Kelsey Montague, and RISK) to install murals on stadium platforms for the 2020 Super Bowl,46 which was held in Miami in February 2020, both events being part of the tenth Anniversary celebrations for Wynwood Walls. Laster also discusses the phenomenon of urban street art on Instagram and Wynwood Walls as a popular fan/tourist destination for selfies in front of murals, a phenomenon that I have previously discussed in the final chapter of Street Art and Activism in the Greater Caribbean: Impossible States, Virtual Publics (2022).47
0.2 Miami ’s Urban “Art Corridor”
Figure 0.1 Miami’s Urban “Art Corridor”: Little Haiti, Buena Vista, and Wynwood. GPS satellite mapping of digital photographs of murals in Miami’s Urban Art Corridor. © Google Maps
All of these phenomena—urban design, real estate development, capital infusion, foreign and international investment, art exhibitions—collectively (and remarkably rapidly) transformed Miami from a mid-size city in the mid-century, down at the heels and cocaine-crime-ridden in the 1980s, to a booming, diverse metropolis, global arts city, and international destination in the closing decades of the 20th century and the opening ones of the 21st century. But wealth, capital, and real estate in Miami, as in most parts of the world, are unequally distributed, marked by profound by economic and social disparities, uneven development, and discernibly uneven geographies.
Miami’s urban “art corridor,” spanning more than 50 city blocks and designated in the maps (above and below), is an urban zone running north-to-south or southto-north, but undeniably developing from south-to-north or from downtown Miami, through Museum Park, toward the historically less developed urban neighborhoods of Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti. As an urban, geographical zone, the art corridor has the following boundaries: at its fullest extent, Interstate 95 in the west, but more properly NW 5th Avenue, NE 2nd Avenue in the east, 20th Street to the south, and 79th Street to the north. The major south-to-north thoroughfares through the art corridor are NW 2nd Avenue, N Miami Avenue, and NE 2nd Avenue. There are also several art institutions within and proximate to Miami’s urban art corridor: they include the Juan Carlos Maldonado Art Collection, located at 3841 NE 2nd Avenue; the Institute of Contemporary Art, located at 61 NE 41st Street in Buena Vista; the De la Cruz Collection, located at 23 NE 41st Street, also in Buena Vista; Wynwood Walls and Doors, located at 2520 NW 2nd Avenue; the Museum of Graffiti, located at 299 NW 25th Street in Wynwood; the Margulies Collection at the Warehouse, located at 591 NW 27th Street in Wynwood; the Rubell Museum, located at 1100 NW 23rd Street in Wynwood, but west of I-95; also close to the art corridor is the PAMM, located at 1103 Biscayne Boulevard; and the Museum of Art and Design @ MDC, located at 600 Biscayne Boulevard. Miami’s urban “art corridor” also hosts and vibrantly comes to life during the annual art festivals held in the city in late November and early December each year: Art|Basel in Miami Beach; Miami Art Week; Art Miami; Context Art Miami; SCOPE; and Aqua Art Miami.
Departing from historic Town Square, the city’s downtown, now home to Museum Park, the site of the PAMM, the Frost Museum of Science, and also the Arsht Center for Performing Arts, and driving or walking south-to-north through Miami’s urban “art corridor,” one passes first through Wynwood, then Buena Vista, the southeastern corner of which is now the Miami Design District, and finally Little Haiti. Following this south-tonorth trajectory, let’s begin this walking tour in Wynwood and end in Little Haiti, once called Lemon City, a namesake that still exists on certain streets and signposts. In the pages that follow, and indeed, in the book, I overview the street art scenes in the three neighborhoods that have been radically altered and rapidly transformed by art and artists, including street artists, galleries, real estate development, and financial flows beginning in Wynwood, touring north into Buena Vista, and ending in Little Haiti, the poorest of the three neighborhoods and the one with the most vulnerable population (largely undocumented Haitian immigrants and low-income Haitian American families).
0.2.1 Wynwood
Annexed by Miami in 1913, the neighborhood of Wynwood was once a garment industry district and supported a thriving manufacturing industry before the onset of offshoring, which began around 1983 with the signing of the Caribbean Basin Initiative but
escalated after the signing and implementation of the North American Free Trade Agreement (NAFTA) in 1994 and the Central America Free Trade Agreement (CAFTA) in 2006. During the post-war decades of the 1950s through the 1980s, the neighborhood was home primarily to Puerto Ricans who worked in the garment manufacturing industry, and Wynwood was affectionately called “Little San Juan” by the Puerto Ricans who settled there around 1947 and continued to do so during the 1950s, 60s, and 70s, the decades immediately following World War II. In the late 1970s, other immigrant populations moved into the neighborhood, including Haitians, Cubans, Dominicans, Colombians, and other immigrants to the city, and the neighborhood experienced economic decline through 1980s90s.48 In the 1990s and early 2000s, artists, attracted by low rents and open urban spaces, moved into Wynwood and began painting the streets and abandoned warehouse walls. It remains predominantly Puerto Rican in Wynwood Norte.
0.2.2 Buena Vista
Originally settled by self-defined and others-derided “crackers” from Georgia and North Carolina as a village outside of the City of Miami’s incorporated limits in the late 19th century and into the 1920s, Buena Vista was annexed into Miami in 1925 (along with Little River, Lemon City, and other villages and settlements); and is now divided between Miami Design District, Upper Buena Vista, the Buena Vista East Historic District, Buena Vista Heights, and Buena Vista West, the residential areas of the neighborhood. Known for its large banyan trees and canopy cover, the neighborhood is now marked by galleries, studios, micro-boutiques, and small and mid-sized homes, as well as a few mansions and newly constructed LEED modernist houses. Like Wynwood, the neighborhood fell into decline and disrepair in the 1980s and 1990s before being redeveloped in the 21st century.
0.2.3 Little Haiti
The historic neighborhood of Lemon City was settled in the 1890s, and the Lemon City Library is the oldest in Miami-Dade County. Settled by English- and Africandescended Bahamians, often referred to derisively as “Conchs,” Lemon City became a key neighborhood for early Black Miamians:49 three separate communities existed in the early 20 th century—Nazarine, Knightsville, and Boles Town—and the neighborhood was annexed into Miami in 1925. Following divisive debates, Lemon City was later renamed “Little Haiti” in 2016 in honor of the Haitian Americans who settled in the neighborhood from the 1970s through the late 20th century.50 In Little Haiti, NE 2nd Avenue, one of the major thoroughfares that runs north-south through the neighborhood has been rechristened “Avenue Felix Morisseau Leroy,” after the wellknown Haitian writer, and the local elementary school is named Toussaint Louverture Elementary.51
0.3 ¡Painting Paradise! —¿Painting Paradise? Book Structure, Chapter Summaries
Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami focuses on street art and large-scale murals in metropolitan Miami, primarily in three urban neighborhoods (Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti), while also foregrounding the diasporic and aesthetic interventions in
the city and in its urban neighborhoods made by migrant and second-generation artists whose families hail from the Caribbean and from Latin America. As a book and as an art historical and urban intervention, Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami further elaborates and intellectually expands the terrain of the “politics of aesthetics” and the “aesthetics of geography,” ideas that theoretically frame my art analyses in Street Art and Activism in the Greater Caribbean: Impossible States, Virtual Publics (2022) and does so precisely in order to analyze Caribbean and Latinx street art and wall murals in Miami—a cosmopolitan, Caribbean, and Latin American urban center, perhaps even a symbolic “capitol”; a global and hemispheric city of multiple, diasporic points of arrivals, departures, and myriad exchanges—oceanic, aerial, railway, nautical, economic, cultural, artistic, financial, technological, and digital.
Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami, as a book, thus foregrounds Miami as a global arts city, an international tourist destination for gallerists, curators, artists, and collectors; and within the downtown core of Miami, focuses primarily on the vibrant street art scenes in three contiguous neighborhoods—Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti—which have all been impacted by finance capital, urban development, uneven geographies, and yet also the myriad creative contributions, including murals, of the diasporic communities settling and residing in these areas. These three urban neighborhoods, located just north of downtown Miami, form the city’s urban “art corridor” and are the ones featured in Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami. In Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami, following an opening chapter on street artists and murals as “walls of resistance,” we then tour through the city’s urban “art corridor,” sojourning through Wynwood in Chapter 2, Buena Vista in Chapter 3, and Little Haiti in Chapter 4, before staging, in Chapter 5, a rigorous, critical examination of the city’s uneven geographies, its side-by-side areas of affluence and poverty, precisely within the downtown and neighborhood borders of Miami’s urban “art corridor.” We conclude with a meditation on artists as agents of creative resistance and urban transformation, equally responsive to and impacted by Miami’s “uneven geographies.”
One could say, perhaps true, that these street artists are ¡painting paradise!, or even painting in paradise! Paradise, of course, is intended as provocation and aporia; it could also be, and perhaps should be—¿paradise?—its punctuation marked with emphasis and exclamation or interrogated and questioned: one punctuation mark placed, but with the other also imagined and conjured there: for exclamation point also question mark; for declarative emphasis also query; for emphatic disclosure also implied inquiry; for, in fact, globalization and globalized arts have invariably (though not inexorably) led to real estate development, capitalist infiltration, and economic gentrification, phenomena all further compounded by climate gentrification.52 These are the complex canvases and polysemic urban walls of Miami’s downtown art corridor. In all of these ways, “paradise” is metaphor and also cypher, signaling simultaneously (and, at times, discordantly and cacophonously) both utopic aspirations and dystopic disappointments; and the muralists who paint this paradise (!?) arrive at, depart from, move within, rewrite, and resignify the complex urban fabric that is metropolitan Miami. Imaginatively and aesthetically, muralists desire and create paradise, yet call it into question, as well as produce more equitable, just visions and versions of altermundos (other worlds).
For all of these complex and complicated reasons, I focus on street artists and muralists who have painted extensively in Miami’s “art corridor” and who are (or whose families are) of Caribbean, Latin American, or Latinx origin: the featured muralists include Diana “Didi” Contreras; Alexis Díaz; Disem; Javier España (Spaint); Claudio Picasso;
Ivan Roque; Tatiana Suarez; Serge Toussaint; Luis Valle (El Chan Guri); Amanda Valdes (Honduran American); and Ivan Yanez (Ivo). All of these artists have installed murals in one, and most have installed murals in all three of the neighborhoods in Miami’s urban “art corridor.” All of the artists have participated in Art|Basel, in Miami Art Week, and all have painted nationally and internationally as well as locally. All are undeniably and intensely affiliated with Miami and its urban street art scenes.
While each chapter foregrounds the diasporic dynamism of the neighborhoods in Miami’s art corridor (Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti), there are also disparate and divergent motifs—urban, social, historic, economic, demographic, and political— pervasive in each of the three neighborhoods. Developed by mass infusions of finance capital by Goldman Properties beginning around 2005, escalating in 2009 and 2010, and being radically and rapidly transformed ever since, Wynwood is now an international arts destination, a global tourist mecca for street art lovers seeking bohemian, hip, and grungy urban vibes. After 2020, the tenth anniversary of the opening of Wynwood Walls, despite pandemic slowdown if not lockdown, there have been (and continue to be) additional infusions of finance capital, the ongoing construction of high-rise condominiums, and the post-pandemic opening of mainstream retail lines, like Sweetgreen, a health food chain, and the shoe retailer Foot Locker, as well as Warby Parker, an eyeglass store, and Madewell, a clothes retailer. In Wynwood, then, we successfully see at play the machinations of street art, city branding, international finance capital, global city strivings, and real estate development, including most recently Block Capital Group and Kushner Companies, LLC, as well as, of course, gentrification.
In Buena Vista, one of the oldest neighborhoods in Miami-Dade County, we see a similar process and dynamic in motion, an urban development that began around 2000, slightly before the urban development of Wynwood. Miamians have witnessed, but largely have not contested, the butchering of an urban neighborhood, literally carved-up into virtual nonexistence, or rather, out of existence. Buena Vista was, or so it seems, a neighborhood “designed” to disappear, one that has been and continues to be parceled out, sold, developed, and transformed into something new altogether—Miami’s Design District, Upper Buena Vista (an upscale, open-air mall), and, as a relic of the past, Buena Vista East Historic District. Buena Vista Heights and Buena Vista West remain almost sleepy residential relics, as yet unchanged by finance capitalism. Buena Vista was, then, to a large degree, an urban neighborhood “designed” to disappear, and remarkably, or unremarkably, it has increasingly done so. Buena Vista Heights and West, though, remain an urban stretch of wide streets and empty lots that is largely undeveloped, and on its wide streets, one still finds small, locally owned business, including small galleries, like WYN 317, and also an active street art zone of myriad street murals by Caribbean and Latinx artists.
In Little Haiti, we see the inverse (or perhaps only a noisier, slower motion version) of urban development that played out in Wynwood after 2005 and in Buena Vista around 2000. As in these two other urban neighborhoods in Miami, we see heated political and economic struggles for control: in Little Haiti, at least since 2014 or 2015, Miamians have also seen concerted efforts toward spatial, commercial, and real estate development (or redevelopment) through mass infusions of finance capital. Over the past decade, we see and have seen the ongoing, dialectical struggle for claims to land, territory, diasporic identity, and Haitian American “home.” Negotiations between capital investors and Haitian Americans have sputtered, boiled over, stalled, and stalemated; yet the agonistic contest over who will control (and own) and name (or rename) the neighborhood
continues to rage on or simmer in the metropolitan pot. For the moment, however, we are still witnessing the ongoing and divisive battle for control over the urban neighborhood of Little Haiti. On one side, finance capitalists, real estate developers, and foreign investors working lockstep with local players—i.e., Goliath. On the other side, Haitian Americans, some settled in Miami for decades, some having just arrived, some US citizens of Haitian descent, some undocumented migrants all working arm-in-arm as housing rights activists, as immigration lawyers, as social workers, and as social justice warriors, or as street artists—i.e., the David in this battle.
Toward the conceptual idea of art and aesthetics (and not only politics and geography) as urban phenomena, I begin by overviewing the artistic, geopolitical, and historical shifts in Miami, focusing on its increasingly international art scene, then I map Miami’s artscapes, 53 or artistic landscapes through specific geographical and spatial neighborhoods, which I define as Miami’s urban “art corridor,” before finally turning my critical attention to the forces of gentrification and displacement in Miami’s central neighborhoods, particularly in Buena Vista and in Little Haiti, but also in parts of Wynwood (particularly the less-developed northern portion of the neighborhood, Wynwood Norte, north of 29th Street, still affectionately and politically known as Little San Juan), and the artists and muralists who paint “walls of resistance” that contest and critique these forces. In Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami, I also overview the historic and urban transformation of Miami from a mid-size, mid-century city into a global city with a diverse and transient population, a global city that is also a popular international tourist destination, and an art mecca in the late 20th and early 21st centuries. I then elaborate the street art scenes in Miami’s urban “art corridor” (the neighborhoods of Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti) that are adjacent to and just north of midtown Miami and Ferré Park, or Museum Park, where the PAMM and the Frost Museum of Science are both located. Throughout Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami and in three discrete chapters, I foreground Wynwood (Chapter 2), Buena Vista (Chapter 3), and Little Haiti (Chapter 4), focusing on local and international muralists who have painted walls in these neighborhoods and transformed the over 50-block north-south stretch into Miami’s urban “art corridor.” In Chapter 5, I more narrowly return to and intensively analyze and critique the forces of gentrification, displacement, and disparity created by urban development. In the conclusion to Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami, I return to the idea of street artists as agents of creative resistance and transformation. In Caribbean and Latinx Street Art in Miami, I argue that Caribbean and Latinx street art and street artists, particularly commissioned artists, paint, and participate (at least partially) in a complex dynamic situated betwixt and between aesthetics and commerce, creativity and capitalism, stylistic resistance and commodification, urban dissidence, and metropolitan development. This dynamic has been manifestly operative and socially transformative in three metropolitan Miami neighborhoods (Wynwood, Buena Vista, and Little Haiti) since 2010. Miami-based Caribbean and Latinx street artists paint at this complex interface and thus navigate the city’s rapidly changing urban landscapes that are simultaneously cosmopolitan yet also distinctly Latin, streetscapes that are markedly defined by the diasporic and transnational presences of people from Caribbean and Latin American countries.
Chapter 1, “Walls of Resistance,” begins the book and articulates the ways in which a “politics of aesthetics,” or art as productive and political, creates noise or static in the capitalist machinery of financial flows, bankers, financiers, and real estate development. In the chapter, I interrogate the now staid and unfortunately sedimented idea that artists
contribute to gentrification. I aver, contrarily, that muralists and street artists are part of the communities displaced and negatively impacted by the forces of gentrification, often, like others, actively or passively pushed out of their own home communities and art spaces by real estate development and the increasing costs of housing and living in these gentrified neighborhoods; and who, like other community members, also actively resist these capitalist forces of gentrification and displacement, imagine and then paint “walls of resistance” to these forces; and also creatively envision and produce other worlds (altermundos) through their politically and aesthetically charged murals.
In “Wynwood,” Chapter 2, I overview the radical redevelopment and urban transformation of the neighborhood since 2009. Chapter 2 thus focuses exclusively on Wynwood, or the Wynwood Art District, as an “open air museum,” as curator and art critic Jeffrey Deitch called it, and one that has become an art tourist magnet in Miami, now a global arts city. Wynwood became “Wynwood Arts District” not only through real estate development, although that clearly played an important role, but also happened through urban branding and city marketing as development: through the efforts of Tony Goldman and Goldman Properties, and later Goldman Global Arts, Wynwood, once a postindustrial neighborhood, is now the Wynwood Arts District defined by Wynwood Walls, Wynwood Doors, Wynwood Gardens, and even “Outside the Walls,” muralists and street artists commissioned by Goldman Global Arts to install murals outside boundaries of Wynwood Walls, and also, and quite dramatically, by almost half a million foottravelers, street art aficionados, curious passersby, and other camera-clicking pedestrians a month.54
In “Buena Vista,” Chapter 3, I address a neighborhood rebranded largely as the Miami Design District and other high-end zones: Buena Vista was not radically transformed into an arts tourist destination (as Wynwood was) through urban branding and city marketing but manifests a historic neighborhood disappearing into virtual nonexistence, or as I heuristically pose, a neighborhood “designed” to disappear. It is Vista, virtually, financially, and commercially overwhelmed by the Miami Design District, only one section of Buena Vista, but one of wealth, affluence, capital, retail, and art, architecture, design, and fashion. Street muralists persist on the periphery of Buena Vista—to the west, to the north, and to the edges of the historical neighborhood. What is—or perhaps more appropriately, what once was—one of the oldest neighborhoods in the City of Miami (founded in the 1890s and annexed into the city in 1924) has largely disappeared as blocks have been carved up, renamed, rebranded, and (in a sense) taken over, superseded, or palimpsestically painted over old Buena Vista, which is, for all practical purposes, now the Miami Design District (in its southeasternmost corner), a newly defined Buena Vista East Historic District, recently developed areas, including Upper Buena Vista—a highend, boutique shopping district that bears the earlier neighborhood’s namesake—and land parcels, residential zones, and a few run-down blocks, further westward toward I-95, that remain (from a developer’s point of view) open and ripe for redevelopment: literally, up-for-sale, up-for-grabs, to the highest bidder. One of the few ever-vanishing landmarks of the Buena Vista neighborhood is the old Post Office located on the corner of 40th Street and NE 2nd Avenue soon reopening as Patek Philippe, a luxury watch boutique based in Geneva.
In Chapter 5, “Little Haiti,” I place the vibrant street art scene in the art corridor’s northernmost neighborhood in the complicated and vexed context of ethnic poverty and international finance: of capitalist expansion into hotly contested terrain, or rather, a highly coveted real estate market for future financial development. Little Haiti is also
an immigrant community striving to preserve its diasporic presence in the neighborhood in the face of multiple forces—gentrification, development, and displacement. Chapter 4 thus focuses exclusively on Little Haiti, the neighborhood’s current name, as it grew from the historical foundations of Lemon City, a neighborhood founded in 1895 by Bahamian settlers and annexed into the City of Miami in 1925, and later (in the late 1970s and early 1980s and subsequently) became a point of arrival and migratory resettlement for Haitians fleeing the Duvalier dictatorship in their home country. Today, the neighborhood—named Little Haiti in 2016 by the Miami-Dade City Council—remains threatened by mass urban development plans that would transform the area through mass infusions of international finance and global capital into an upscale real estate development with high-rise condominiums, bars, bistros, restaurants, boutiques, and an innovation and tech design area known as Magic City Innovation District. Developers Tony Cho, Neil Fairman, and Guy Laliberte and their development companies—Metro1, Plaza Equity Partners, and Lune Rouge, respectively—have plans to develop 17 acres, construct 200,000 square feet of “rentable space” within 20 buildings, warehouses, and add mixed-use facilities:55 if successful, Little Haiti will become Magic City, and Ti Ayiti will be a short memory on the way of Lemon City becoming Magic City.
In Chapter 5, I highlight “Miami’s ‘Uneven Geographies’” (marked by social inequality, poverty, and racial division). I do so by placing Miami neighborhoods and art landscapes within urgent conversations about urban expansion,56 urban design and policymaking,57 environmental injustice, political activism,58 racialized laws, racist policing,59 race in public education policies,60 class and classism, capital, real estate and property laws,61 and multiple, overlapping forms of gentrification (capitalist gentrification, climate gentrification, und so weiter62)—all of which street artists visually critique, resist, and call into question through “arts of urban resistance,” as reiterated in the Conclusion. I also tackle and seek to dismantle—fully, finally—the uninterrogated dogma that artists catalyze gentrification.63 There are citizens, activists, and artists impacted by and critical of this apparent, if not fait accompli future, and its urban neighborhood transformation. Saliently, street artists—as agents of creative resistance and cultural transformation—are part of this dissent. Street artists and muralists who paint “walls of resistance” are the central focus of Chapter 1; and their murals are, as I re-emphasize in the Conclusion, “arts of urban resistance.”
Notes
1 Alex Stepick, Guillermo Grenier, Max Castro, and Marvin Dunn, This Land Is Our Land: Immigrants and Power in Miami (UP of California, 2003), 19.
2 Jean-François LeJeune, “Dreams of Cities,” in Miami: Architecture of the Tropics, edited by Culot, LeJeune, et al. (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Architectural Press, 1993), 91–119; 94.
3 Portes and Stepick, “Reprise,” City of the Edge 207.
4 Alejandro Portes and Ariel C. Armony, “Introduction: A City in Flux,” The Global Edge: Miami in the 21st Century (UP of California, 2018), 17.
5 Portes and Armony, “The Demography and Ecology of the City,” The Global Edge 23.
6 Grenier and Stepick, Miami Now! 2
7 Ibid., 2.
8 Planning meetings between various involved parties took place in south Florida before the assassination of Haitian President Jovenel Moïse on July 7, 2021.
9 Portes and Armony, The Global Edge 24. See also Portes and Stepick, City on the Edge
10 Saskia Sassen, The Global City: New York, London, Tokyo (Princeton UP, 1991).
11 Jan Nijman, Miami: Mistress of the Americas (Philadelphia: UP of Pennsylvania, 2011), 95. Nijman’s personifications of Miami and his overt gendering and sexualizing of the city are extremely problematic.
12 Portes and Armony, The Global Edge 17.
13 Ibid., 17.
14 Nijman, Miami 211.
15 Grenier and Stepick, Miami Now! 1.
16 Michel S. Laguerre, Diasporic Citizenship: Haitian Americans in Transnational America (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1998).
17 Portes and Armony, The Global Edge 3–4.
18 Joseph Treaster, “In Miami, the Murals Are the Message,” New York Times (23 October 2019): https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/23/arts/design/miami-murals-wynwood.html
19 Portes and Armony, The Global Edge 13–14.
20 Manny Díaz, “Fostering Arts and Culture,” Chapter 13 in Miami Transformed: Rebuilding America One Neighborhood, One City at a Time (Philadelphia: UP of Pennsylvania, 2012), 181, written by one of Miami’s long-standing mayors (from 2001–2009).
21 With muralscapes, I adopt Arjun Appadurai’s taxonomy from “Disjuncture and Difference in the Global Cultural Economy,” Public Culture 2.2 (1990), 1–24; reprinted in Braziel and Mannur, eds. Theorizing Diaspora (Blackwell Publishers, 2003), 25–48.
22 Franklin Sirmans, “Foreword,” Walls of Change: The Story of the Wynwood Walls (Assouline Publishing, 2020), 8–9.
23 Jeffrey Deitch, “Museum of the Streets,” in The Wynwood Walls and Doors: An Arts Project of Goldman Properties (Goldman Properties, 2012), 29–30.
24 Jane Wooldridge, “Here’s the Difference between Art Basel, Art Miami and Miami Art Week,” Miami Herald (4 December 2019): https://www.miamiherald.com/miami-com/miami-comnews/article225776390.html
25 Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM): https://www.pamm.org/about.
26 “Museum History,” The Phillip and Patricia Frost Museum of Science: https://www.frostscience. org/museum-history/.
27 Wooldridge, “Here’s the Difference between Art Basel, Art Miami and Miami Art Week.”
28 Art Basel | Miami website: https://www.miamiandbeaches.com/event/art-basel-miami-beach/49.
29 Jorinde Seijdel, Liesbeth Melis, and Pascale Gielin, eds. The Art Biennial as a Global Phenomenon. Special Issue of Open 16 (2009).
30 Arsht Performing Arts Center.
31 Skyscraper Page: http://skyscraperpage.com/cities/?cityID=134
32 Ken Silverstein, “Miami: Where Luxury Real Estate Meets Dirty Money,” The Nation (12 October 2013), 13–23: https://www.thenation.com/article/archive/miami-where-luxury-realestate-meets-dirty-money/.
33 “About Wynwood Walls,” The Wynwood Walls.
34 Paul Laster, “How the Wynwood Walls Have Shaped Miami’s Art Scene,” Architectural Digest (3 October 2019): https://www.architecturaldigest.com/story/wynwood-walls-haveshaped-miamis-art-scene.
35 Goldman Properties: https://goldmanproperties.com/.
36 Jessica Goldman Srebnick, Tristan Eaton, and Kashink, “Wynwood Walls: Art as an Ignition for Change,” UM Stamps, Online Lecture sponsored by the University of Michigan Institute for Humanities and Chelsea River Gallery: https://www.youtube.com/ watch?v=f5YMjZHTzgk
37 According to the Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM): “The Miami Art Museum of Dade County Association, Inc. (MAM), in tandem with the Miami Museum of Science, led the charge to transform a derelict 30-acre waterfront site in the City of Miami into Museum Park.”
38 From a press release by PAMM (archived on its website): “—September 4, 2015—The Board of Trustees of Pérez Art Museum Miami (PAMM) announced today the appointment of Franklin Sirmans as the museum’s director.”
39 Sirmans, “Foreword,” Walls of Change 9.
40 Initially Governor Ron DeSantis, in a rapid gubernatorial response, placed the entire state of Florida, including Miami-Dade, under lockdown orders; however, the governor was also one of the first to issue reopening orders, preemptively even, and openly balked at mask mandates and ridiculed vaccination requirements, as well as ongoing lockdown orders in other states and throughout the United States.
41 Theresa Christine, “The Woman Behind the Wynwood Walls: Celebrating 10 Years of Miami’s Thriving Art Scene,” Forbes (25 November 2019): https://www.forbes.com/sites/theresachristine/ 2019/11/25/the-woman-behind-the-wynwood-walls-celebrating-10-years-of-miamis-thrivingart-scene/?sh=5a8790bf7681.
42 Laster, “How the Wynwood Walls Have Shaped Miami’s Art Scene,” Architectural Digest.
43 Christine, “The Woman Behind the Wynwood Walls,” Forbes
44 See note 42.
45 Ibid.
46 “NFL Commissions Goldman Global Arts in First-Ever Collaboration with World-Renowned Artists for Super Bowl LIV,” NFL Communications (28 January 2020): https://nflcommunications.com/Pages/NFL-COMMISSIONS-GOLDMAN-GLOBAL-ARTS-IN-FIRST-EVERCOLLABORATION-WITH-WORLD-RENOWNED-ARTISTS-FOR-SUPER-BOWL-LIV. aspx.
47 Social media, particularly Instagram, has become part of the infrastructure and machinery for posting, reposting, and circulating (and recirculating) murals, not only in Miami, but worldwide.
48 “History of Wynwood Miami,” The Magic City: Miami History: https://miami-history.com/ history-of-wynwood-miami/.
49 Marvin Dunn, Black Miami in the Twentieth Century (UP of Florida, 1997).
50 Melina Martinez-Echeverria, “The Legacy of Lemon City and the Magic of Little Haiti,” Greater Miami Convention and Visitors Bureau (31 July 2020): https://www.miamiandbeaches. com/things-to-do/history-and-heritage/lemon-city-and-little-haiti. See also Jacqueline Charles, “Viter Juste, Haitian Community Pioneer and Leader, Dies at 87,” Miami Herald (28 November 2012); reposted on Merced Sun Star: https://www.mercedsunstar.com/news/local/ article3272294.html; David Smiley, “What’s in a Name? Little Haiti Boundaries Now Official,” Miami Herald (26 May 2016): https://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/ miami-dade/article80151417.html; and Timothy A. Barber (adapted from Gepsie M. Metellus), “The Legacy of Lemon City/The magic of Little Haiti,” Miami Black Visitor Guide.
51 Martinez-Echeverria, “The Legacy of Lemon City and the Magic of Little Haiti.”
52 See Christopher Flavelle and Patricia Mazzei, “Miami Says It Can Adapt to Rising Seas. Not Everyone Is Convinced,” New York Times (2 March 2021): https://www.nytimes.com/2021/03/02/ climate/miami-sea-level-rise.html; and Daniel Aldana Cohen and Samantha Schuyler, “Should We Start Preparing for the Evacuation of Miami?” The Nation (3 February 2023): https:// www.thenation.com/article/environment/miami-climate-change-evacuation/.
53 Op.cit. Appadurai 1990.
54 Motionlofit, a mobile app and motion-tracking device, with data analytics capacity, registered 410,000 visitors in March 2019. Francisco Alvarado, “How Many People Visited the Wynwood Walls in March? Mobile Applications That Track Pedestrian Traffic Are Becoming Landlords’ Favorite Tech Tool,” The Real Deal (18 April 2019): https://therealdeal.com/ miami/2019/04/18/how-many-people-visited-the-wynwood-walls-in-march/.
55 Magic City Innovation District: https://magiccitydistrict.com/inside-magic-city/#our-story
56 For remote sensor or GPS satellite analyses of urban expansion in Miami-Dade County, see Shaikh Abdullah Al Rifat and Weibo Liu, “Quantifying Spatiotemporal Patterns and Major Explanatory Factors of Urban Expansion in Miami Metropolitan Area during 1992–2016,” Remote Sensing 11 (2019), 1–29: https://www.mdpi.com/2072-4292/ 11/21/2493 .
57 Moses Shumow and Robert E. Gutsche Jr., “Urban Policy, Press, and Place: City-Making in Florida’s Miami-Dade County,” Journal of Urban Affairs 38.3 (2015), 450–466: https://www. tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1111/juaf.12225.
58 See Sharon D. Wright Austin, Richard T. Middleton, and Rachel Yon, “The Effect of Racial Group Consciousness on the Political Participation of African Americans and Black Ethnics in Miami-Dade County, Florida,” Political Research Quarterly 65.3 (2012), 629–641.
59 On racial profiling in the Miami-Dade County Police Department, see Geoffrey P. Alpert, Roger G. Dunham, and Michael R. Smith, “Investigating Racial Profiling by the Miami-Dade Police Department: A Multimethod Approach,” Criminology and Public Policy, 6.1 (2007), 25–56.
60 On zero-tolerance policies both in public education and in law, as well as challenges to the school-to-prison pipeline in Miami-Dade public schools, see Jeremy Thompson, “Eliminating Zero Tolerance Policies in Schools. Miami-Dade County Public Schools,” Brigham Young University Education & Law Journal (2016), 325–349. These progressive
ideas have come under aggressive, conservative attack by Governor DeSantis who vilifies critical race theory (CRT), trans rights, LGBTQ rights, and oversees devastating cuts and curricular changes to Florida public schools, including noxious legislation around the teaching of slavery. See, among other, critiques: Eugene Robinson: “Opinion: Florida Curriculum on Slavery is an Obscene Revision of Black History,” The Washington Post (24 July 2023): https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/2023/07/24/ florida-curriculum-slavery-benefits-desantis-offensive /.
61 For discussions of unfair/inequitable foreclosures post-2008 in Miami-Dade: “Fair Housing Act—Standing and Proximate Cause—Bank of America Corp. v. City of Miami,” in The Harvard Law Review (2017), 373–382.
62 For a trenchant discussion of LGBTQ or queer gentrification, see Damon Scott and Trushna Parekh, “Three Recent Scenes in the Affective Life of Gentrification in San Francisco’s Polk Gulch,” Cultural Geographies 27.4 (September 2020): https://doi.org/ 10.1177/1474474020949554.
63 On art/hipster gentrification: Alexander Britell, “Finding Haiti on Miami’s Walls,” Caribbean Journal (21 August 2012): https://www.caribjournal.com/2012/08/21/findinghaiti-on-miamis-walls/; “Which Miami Neighborhood Will Be the Next to Be ‘Art-Washed’?” Miami Herald (25 October 2016): https://www.miamiherald.com/miami-com/miami-comnews/article225845180.html; Hannah Sentenac, “15 New Murals Going Up Throughout Wynwood, Little Haiti, Little Havana, and Hialeah,” Miami New Times (23 July 2015): https://www.miaminewtimes.com/arts/15-new-murals-going-up-throughout-wynwoodlittle-haiti-little-havana-and-hialeah-7759603; “Art Beat Miami : Haitian Artist Art Basel Schedule,” L’Union Miami (30 November 2015): www.lunionsuite.com/art-beat-miamihaitian-artist-art-basel-schedule/; Sean McCaughan, “Becks had Artists Paint 15 Murals in Little Havana, Little Haiti, Hialeah, and Wynwood over the Summer,” Miami Curbed (21 September 2015): https://miami.curbed.com/2015/9/21/9923226/becks-murals-hialeahlitttle-havana-little-haiti-wynwood-public-art; Neil de la Flor, “Is Little Haiti the Next Wynwood?” Knight Foundation (22 July 2015): https://knightfoundation.org/articles/littlehaiti-next-wynwood/; Brett Sokol, “Miami’s Art World Sets Sights on Little Haiti Neighborhood,” New York Times (23 November 2015): https://www.nytimes.com/2015/11/24/ arts/design/miamis-art-world-sets-sights-on-little-haiti-neighborhood.html; Maria Murriel, “Will Hipsters Erase the Distinctive Street Art of Miami’s Little Haiti?,” The World, Public Radio International (10 December 2015); Rob Goyane, “That Little Haiti Look,” The New Tropic (10 January 2016): https://thenewtropic.com/architecture-in-littlehaiti/; Matt Meltzer, “20 Places in Miami You Never Knew Had Great Art,” Thrillist (16 February 2016): https://www.thrillist.com/lifestyle/miami/unexpected-places-in-miamiwith-great-secret-art; Victoria Cervantes, “Itinerary: How to Spend a Day in Miami’s Little Haiti,” Where Traveler (4 April 2016); Laurence Kidd, “Get Your Haitian Culture Fix in Little Haiti, Miami,” Culture Trip: originally published but no longer available on this site: https://theculturetrip.com/authors/laurence-kidd/; Unconventional, “Getting Creative in Little Haiti,” Medium (9 January 2017): https://medium.com/@unconventional/little-haiti-getcreative-with-apple-54dfa43e4b8c; Fabiola Fleuranvil, “Here’s Where to Find the Best Haitian Art Exhibits during Miami Art Week,” Miami Herald (29 November 2017): https://www. miamiherald.com/miami-com/things-to-do/article225775700.html ; Juan Rozas, “Mural in Miami’s Little Haiti,” Bēhance blog: https://www.behance.net/gallery/7955339/Mural-inMiamis-Little-Haiti; SOIL Haiti, “New Mural in Miami’s Little Haiti Honors SOIL’s Work,” Our Soil (14 August 2017): https://www.oursoil.org/new-mural-in-miamis-little-haitihonors-soils-work-1708/; and Ryan Pfeffer, “Underrated Miami: Murals,” Time Out (21 June 2018): https://www.timeout.com/miami/news/underrated-miami-murals-062118.
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H E X A N D R I A M O N O G Y N I A . Six Chives. One Pointal. GENERIC CHARACTER.
C nullus.
C campanulata, sex-partita, unguibus cohærens: laciniis ovatis, maximis, patentibus.
S . Filamenta sex, brevissima, superne crassiora, reflexa. Antheræ minimæ.
P . Germen oblongum, obtusum, triquetrum, staminibus longius. Stylus nullus. Stigma trisulcum, obtusum: laciniis bifidis, perviis.
P . Capsula oblonga, obtusa, triangularis, trilocularis, trivalvis.
S plurima, gemino ordine incumbentia.
E none.
B bell-shaped, six-divided, fastened together by the claws. The segments ovate, large, and spreading.
C . Six threads, very short, thick above, and reflexed. Tips small.
P . Seed-bud oblong, blunt, three-sided, longer than the chives. Shaft none. Summit three-furrowed, obtuse. The segments are bifid, and may be passed through.
S - . Capsule oblong, obtuse, three-angled, three-celled, threevalved.
S many, two-ranked, lying on each other.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
Y floribunda, ramosa, patens: corollis campanulatis, pendulis: foliis ensiformibus, plicatis, apice mucronato.
Habitat in America boreali.
A ’ N , with numerous flowers branching and spreading: blossoms bell-shaped, and hanging down. Leaves sword-shaped and plaited, with a mucronated point.
Native of North America.
REFERENCE TO THE PLATE.
1. The end of a leaf.
2. The plant in miniature.
3 The chives and pointal
4 Seed-bud and pointal
5. The seed-bud cut transversely.
O this genus of plants there are as yet known but four species. The present one, from its specific title, might naturally be supposed to possess a magnificent exterior of unrivalled beauty; which is by no means the case: for although it is a grand plant when in fine bloom, the term of gloriosa must certainly be regarded as a metaphysical hyperbole, very inapplicable to any plant ever so beautiful. It is indigenous to North America, and of great utility to the natives, who make cords from the stringy texture of the leaves, and use it in the fabrication of their houses, to fasten the ends of them together. Their swinging beds, called Hamacks, are also said to be made of the same materials; and most probably the sailor’s bed, so well known by the appellation of Hammock, derives its title from the Hamack of the Indians. It is easily increased from the young shoots, which become flowering plants in about five years in the open ground: but if kept in the green-house, it might remain for twenty years without blooming, for want of sufficient air and sun to bring it to maturity.
Our figure are was made from a plant ten feet high, in luxuriant bloom, at Hedsor Lodge, the seat of Lord Boston.
PLATE CCCCLXXIV.
PSORALEA PINNATA.
Winged-leaved Psoralea. CLASS XVII. ORDER IV.
D I A D E L P H I A D E C A N D R I A . Two Brotherhoods. Ten Chives.
ESSENTIAL GENERIC CHARACTER.
C longitudine leguminis. Stamina diadelpha. Legumen monospermum, sub-rostratum, evalve.
E the length of the pod. Chives diadelphous. Pod one-seeded, beaked, and valveless.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
P pinnata, foliis patentibus apice acutis, recurvatis: floribus axillaribus, pedunculis longis.
P with winged leaves, spreading, sharp-pointed, and recurved. The flowers grow from the axillæ of the leaves upon long footstalks.
REFERENCE TO THE PLATE.
1. The empalement.
2 The standard of the blossom
3. One of the wings.
4. One of the same shown from the inside.
5. The chives.
6 The seed-bud and pointal
T Psoralea pinnata is a very ornamental plant for the conservatory, and certainly deserves a coloured representation. At present there are only two uncoloured engravings of it extant: one in the Flora tetrapetala Rivinus, No. 5.; the other in Hermann’s Hortus Lugdunensis, tab. 273. The Psoraleas are a well marked natural genus, and appear much more characteristic of each other than many of the Papilonaceous genera.
Our drawing was made from a fine specimen received from the collection of the Hon. W. Irby.
PLATE CCCCLXXV.
SERAPIAS CORDIGERA.
Heart-bearing Serapias.
CLASS XX. ORDER I.
G Y N A N D R I A D I A N D R I A . Chives on the Pointal. Two Chives.
ESSENTIAL GENERIC CHARACTER.
C 5 petala, ringens: petalis conniventibus: labello nectarii ecalcarato: lamina deflexa: antheræ styli longitudine, adnatæ.
B 5 petals, gaping: petals approaching together. The lip of the honey-cup growing from the spur: the lip bending downwards. The chives the length of the style, and attached to it.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
S foliis lanceolatis glaucis, ad basin maculatis. Nectarium tripartitum, ferrugineum: laciniis lateralibus obtusis, erectis, conniventibus: divisio media ovata, acuminata, pilosa, dependens: corollis implicatis, apice involutis, extus pallentibus, intus fusco purpurascentibus.
S with lance-shaped glaucous leaves spotted at the base. Honeycup three-divided, and of a rusty colour: the side segments obtuse, upright, and approaching: the middle division is ovate, sharp-pointed, hairy, and hanging down. Blossom folded together, and turned inwards at the point, pale-coloured on the outside, and of a purply brown on the inside.
REFERENCE TO THE PLATE.
1. The flower spread open.
2. The lip of the honey-cup.
3 The chives and pointal, with the spur of the honey-cup, magnified F this luxuriant specimen of the Serapias cordigera we are indebted to the Right Hon. the Marquis of Blandford. It is a rare plant, of a curious structure but very sombre aspect. It is one of those numerous divisions of the class Gynandria approaching the genus Ophrys on the one side, and Neottia on the other. From the Ophrys it is not easily distinguished; but from Neottia it is
separated by the difference of its habit. This plant is well known by the title of cordigera, a specific derived from the resemblance the lip of the nectarium is supposed to bear to the shape of a heart: but the analogy is certainly not very powerful. The flowers remain a considerable time in perfection. It is indigenous to Spain, Barbary, Italy, &c.
PLATE CCCCLXXVI.
MELALEUCA DIOSMÆFOLIA.
Diosma-leaved Melaleuca.
CLASS XVIII. ORDER IV.
P O L YA D E L P H I A P O L YA N D R I A . Threads in many Sets. Many Chives.
ESSENTIAL GENERIC CHARACTER.
C quinquefidus, semisuperus. Petala quinque. Filamenta multa, longissima, in quinque corpora connata. Pistillum unum. Capsula 3-locularis.
C five-cleft, half above. Petals five. Threads numerous, very long, united into five bodies. Pointal one. Capsule 3-celled.
See Melaleuca Ericæfolia, Pl. 175. Vol. III.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
M foliis alternatis, ovatis, reflexis, subtus punctatis, odoratis: floribus sessilibus in medio ramorum, viridibus, confertis: ramis verticillatis, patentibus.
M with alternate leaves, ovate, and reflexed, punctured beneath, and sweet-scented. Flowers sessile about the middle of the branches, are of a green colour, and crowded together. The branches are whorled, and spreading.
REFERENCE TO THE PLATE.
1. A flower complete.
2 A flower spread open, without the empalement
3. One of the five bundles of chives.
4. Empalement, seed-bud, and pointal, summit magnified.
5 A ripe seed-vessel
T perfectly new species of Melaleuca was sent to us by Mr. J. Milne, botanic gardener at Fonthill, who is very successful in the cultivation of new plants. The punctured or dotted character on the under side of the leaves gives it an affinity to the Diosma tribe, as does also its scented foliage, which when rubbed emits a grateful aromatic odour; and which the leaves
retain in some degree when dried. The flowers, although not splendid, are perhaps equally estimable from the rarity of their colour, which is a bright green when in perfection; but in retiring they acquire a yellower tint. It is a native of New Holland, and requires the careful treatment of the greenhouse.
PLATE CCCCLXXVII.
LINUM VENUSTUM.
Graceful Linum.
CLASS V. ORDER V.
P E N TA N D R I A P E N TA G Y N I A . Five Chives. Five Pointals.
ESSENTIAL GENERIC CHARACTER.
C 5-phyllus. Petala 5-phylla. Capsule 5-valvis, 10-locularis. Semina solitaria.
E 5-leaved. Petals 5-leaved. Capsule 5-valved. 10 Loculaments. Seeds solitary.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
L foliis ovatis, acutis, 5-7-nervosis, margine pilosa: floribus in umbellis paniculatis: ramis alternis: corollis magnis, patentibus, incarnatis. Caulis erectus, pedalis.
Nascens in Monte Caucaso.
L with ovate sharp-pointed leaves. Nerves from 5 to 7, and hairy at the edges. Flowers grow in paniculated umbels. Branches alternate. Blossom large, spreading, and flesh-coloured. Branches upright, a foot high.
Native of Mount Caucasus.
This fine new Linum was raised from seed by Mr. J. Bell, in whose garden near Brentford it has flowered for the first time in England. It is nearest in affinity to the L. hirsutum of Jacquin, under which specific title the seed was received by Mr. Bell. The flowers when dead or dried lose their fine pinky tint, and acquire a blueish colour, the same as it first appears with in the bud state. It might then compare with Jacquin’s figure in point of colour, but would be too far removed in its appearance for us to have adopted the specific of hirsutum with any propriety. We may therefore with justice regard it as a beautiful nondescript species. It is a native of Mount Caucasus, flowers in June and July, and seeds so freely that it will no doubt be soon abundantly cultivated.
PLATE CCCCLXXVIII.
CRINUM LATIFOLIUM.
Broad-leaved Crinum.
CLASS VI. ORDER I.
H E X A N D R I A M O N O G Y N I A . Six Chives. One Pointal.
ESSENTIAL GENERIC CHARACTER.
C supra, infundibuliformis, sex-partita, æqualis: filamenta fauci tubi inserta: semina ad basin corollarum, vivipara.
B above, funnel-shaped, six-parted, equal: threads inserted into the mouth of the tube: seeds at the base of the blossoms, viviparous.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
C latifolium, undulatum, glabrum, lucidum: spatha multiflora: tubo corollæ laciniis longiore, quæ mucronatæ sunt: post florescentiam capsula crescit in bulbum magnum, et plantam format futuram.
Habitat in Indiæ orientalis arenosis.
C with broad, waved, smooth, shining leaves: sheath manyflowered: the tube of the blossom longer than the segments, which are pointed: and after flowering, the capsule swells into a large bulb, and forms the future plant.
Native of the sandy parts of the East Indies.
REFERENCE TO THE PLATE.
1 A leaf
2. The plant in miniature.
3. The chives, as attached to the tube of the flower.
4 Seed-bud and pointal
5 The seed-bud, or bulb, inflated, as it appears after flowering
6. The same stripped of its outer covering.
T Crinum latifolium is certainly one of the most attractive of the genus, as, in addition to the fine red colour of its flowers, it possesses an aromatic odour of agreeable fragrance. It is a bulb-bearer, as are all of this genus, although several of them have been placed erroneously amongst the genus
Amaryllis, which does not bear bulbs. The genus Crinum, at present a short one, will therefore, with a good grace, admit a few additions; whilst that of Amaryllis, already very extended, will receive no injury by a slight curtailment. It is a native of the dry sandy parts of the East Indies, and was introduced by Mr. Lambert in the year 1803, but has not flowered till this summer—a period of four years. But there is little doubt of its now blooming annually, as it is not uncommon for bulbs imported from a great distance to enjoy a state of quiescence after their arrival. Our figure was made from a fine plant in luxuriant bloom in the hot-stove of J. Vere, esq.
I
PLATE CCCCLXXIX.
FRAGARIA INDICA.
Indian Strawberry. CLASS XXII. ORDER V.
C O S A N D R I A P O L Y G Y N I A . Twenty Chives. Many Pointals.
GENERIC CHARACTER.
C . Perianthium monophyllum, planum, decemfidum: laciniis alternatim exterioribus, angustioribus.
C . Petala quinque, subrotunda, patentia, calyci inserta.
S . Filamenta viginti, subulata, corolla breviora, calyci inserta. Antheræ lunulares.
P . Germina numerosa, minima, in capitulum collecta. Styli simplices, latere germinis inserti. Stigmata simplicia.
P nullum. Bacca fit receptaculum commune seminum, rotundo-ovata, pulposa, mollis, magna, colorata, basi truncata, decidua.
S numerosa, minima, per superficiem receptaculi sparsa.
E . Cup one-leafed, flat, ten-cleft: the segments are alternately exterior, and narrowed.
B five-petalled, nearly round, spreading, and inserted into the calyx.
C . Threads twenty, awl-shaped, shorter than the blossom, inserted into the calyx. Tips like a half-moon.
P . Seed-buds numerous and small, collected into a head. Shaft simple, inserted into the side of the germ. Summit simple.
S - none. The berry becomes the common receptacle for the seeds, is of a round ovate form, pulpy, soft, large, and coloured, cut off at the base, and deciduous.
S numerous, small, on the outside of the receptacle, scattered.
SPECIFIC CHARACTER.
F foliis tripartitis: foliolis ovatis, acutis, crenatis: petiolis longis: calyce decemfido, inferne piloso: quinque exterioribus rotundatis, crenatis: interioribus ovatis, acutis: pedunculis longis: floribus luteis: fructu rubro, insipido. Rami pilosi, repentes.
S with three-divided leaves: leaflets ovate, pointed, and scolloped: footstalks long: empalement ten-cleft, and hairy beneath: the five outer ones are rounded and notched: the inner ones are ovate, and pointed: peduncles long: flowers yellow: fruit red and insipid. Branches hairy, and creeping.
REFERENCE TO THE PLATE.
1. The empalement, seed-buds, chives, and pointals.
2 The same shown from the under side
3. A petal.
4. Seed-buds, chives, and pointals.
5. A seed-bud and pointal.
6 The same magnified
7. A seed-bud from the ripe fruit.
8. The same magnified.
T new species of Fragaria, from the lively yellow flowers and brilliance of its fine red fruit, is desirable as an ornamental plant, but is in no other respect estimable, from the insipidity of its fruit, which is entirely destitute of flavour. It is a native of the north-east parts of Bengal. Our figure was made from the only plant that has as yet flowered in England, in the gardens of the Honourable C. Greville.
