Wynwood Arts District Thriving Post-Pandemic
By Charles Maxwell
In the 1980s, Wynwood, Miami, was considered an unsafe lower-to-middle-class inner-city neighborhood. Filled with drugs and plagued with crime, the neighborhood was far from a tourist destination but close enough to the design districts of Miami to catch the eyes of developers.
Now, just three miles north of downtown Miami lies a lively art district boasting an assortment of bars, restaurants, world-class art galleries and a slew of hard-working immigrants unwilling to conform. Everything that the neighborhood of Wynwood, Miami, consists of is a canvas. Telephone poles, businesses, benches, walls, sidewalks, and street signs are all dressed by a paintbrush or can of spray paint. The people and the artists who visit share their stories in the form of pictures emulated on whatever blank space is allowed.
There are no rules here. Well, there probably are, but who knows if anyone enforces them?
The inclusivity and diversity of those who make up the Wynwood Arts District have created a place that feels almost lawless. Any idea is welcomed with open arms, resulting in one big beautiful mess.
A mob of tourists and Miami natives decide that the crosswalk is wherever they step off the curb. A double-decker party bus filled with drunk 20-somethings weaves between the murals blasting hip-hop music in the middle of the afternoon. Their reckless dancing is encouraged by middle-aged men wearing rainbow-colored dresses, whose attention quickly redirects back to the half-naked cartoon woman painted on the storefront behind them.
For most, this sounds like a once-in-a-lifetime experience- meaning you visit once in your lifetime and decide you never want to go back. For Italian immigrant and restaurant owner Diego Pasqualicchio, this is paradise.
“Miami is one of the greatest cities in the world,” says Pasqualicchio as he hands a customer one of his famous Arancini, a rice ball stuffed with filling, coated in breadcrumbs, and deep fried. “Everybody is so friendly and accepting, you know, it’s truly beautiful.”
Pasqualicchio’s Italian-style takeout restaurant, “ArincinuS,” has been operating out of an office suite in downtown Miami for the past two years. Along with his brick-and-mortar store, every Saturday, Pasqualicchio sets up a vendor’s tent at Wynwood’s “Smorgasburg,” the largest weekly open-air food market in America. At the entrance to Smorgasburg sits a sign that kindly reminds its visitors that “EVERYONE FROM EVERYWHERE IS WELCOME HERE.”
The so-called “Woodstock of food” features vendors from around the world, each sharing their own stories through cuisine. Seafood, Mexican, Turkish, American, and vegan are all some of the many options available.
“They’ve got every type of food here,” says 21-year-old South Florida resident Blake Cain. “I think it’s supposed to be a reflection of the community. A joint effort from a bunch of different people to make one big thing. It’s kind of like a big work of art in the middle of a bunch of art,” Cain says as he chuckles, holding a platter of carne asada tacos.
The city of Wynwood and its inhabitants’ art have no limits. Inside the front doors of the famous Wynwood Walls Museum, a set of tires from an army tank are repurposed and used as benches. Tourists sit down and indulge in a people watchers paradise as women covered head to toe in tattoos — and a few pieces of clothing here and there — strut through the lobby. With so many things drawing the attention of the eyes, everybody free of the disability experiences ADHD for the first time, struggling to focus on one subject.
As the sun sets and the visual art of Wynwood starts to fade, a crowd gathers around the Los Felix record bar and indulges in auditory pleasure as the vinyl record DJ begins her set. A day in the neighborhood ends without a dull moment — or structure.
