Visitors to South Beach these days see the gleaming condo towers, the throngs of tourists on Ocean Drive, the jet ski traffic streaking across the aquamarine waters of Biscayne Bay. But a relatively short time back, in the 1980s, it was quite a different scene. South Beach back then is often described — with fondness, of course — as either “a war zone” or “God‘s waiting room.”
The population was elderly. The mood was sad. The only knowledge the world seemed to have of the city came from either Miami Vice or Scarface.
Then, in the early ’90s, a paradigm shift occurred: South Beach became a gay mecca. Cheap rent, male models in Versace, and the soothing comfort of Golden Girls reruns fueled a real estate renaissance. But the beach was still a rough place, not for the faint of heart. Many well-heeled snowbirds back then still gravitated to the more sedate communities of, say, Coconut Grove or Coral Gables.
Certainly, one would have thought either of those communities would have suited Clark Reynolds better. A buttoned-up banker from Boston, he was instead completed entranced by South Beach’s aura of danger and beauty.
His other half, Dennis Leyva, currently Public Art Coordinator for the City of Miami Beach, grew up here. Arriving in 1958 from Cuba with his parents, he remembers seeing the film, Sweet Charity, at the Colony Theater on Lincoln Road when he was six years old. And his enthusiasm for the city remains undimmed. Regarding the soon-to-be unveiled transformation of Lincoln Road between Alton and Lenox, he exults: “It’s going to be beyond anyone’s expectations. There has never been anything that spectacular, that beautiful.”
Reynolds and Leyva met at an art opening at the Bass Museum and have lived together now for over 20 years. As South Beach evolved so did their lifestyle. At first they had a house, on one of the Venetian Islands. “But whenever you’re living on the water,” says Dennis, “the maintenance is constant.” Eventually, the simplicity of condo living appealed to them. “There’s one key, one door.”
Buying pre-construction, they purchased two adjacent apartments with direct Biscayne Bay views and requested the developer skip the buildout — just deliver the raw space. With architect Richard Barbeiri and designer David Sheppard, executive director of Design Industries Foundation Fighting Aids (DIFFA), they created an open, flowing floor plan that would maximize the never-before-seen Biscayne Bay views. In the developer plan, the master bedroom would have been rectangular but Reynolds and Leyva instead created a diagonal runway that literally launches guests upon entry from the foyer directly to a jaw-dropping vista of downtown Miami.
“It’s all about the view,” interjects Reynolds. “You build from there.”
To anchor the living room, David Sheppard unearthed an enormous original Vladimir Kagan “Omnibus” sofa that had been in storage for 25 years. “They’re tearing down the storage building” he gasped. “I’m going to send it to you. I think you would like it.”
It still looks brand new.
Ten years later, Reynolds and Leyva asked designer Luis Pons to come in and refine the space even further. To showcase their art, Pons used six shades of gray to absorb the strong Miami light as it changes throughout the day. He also added his signature “Frame” chest at the foot of the master bed.
Over the years, however, one motif has remained: the apartment stays modern, uncluttered, open. “I’m always obsessively getting rid of things,” says Leyva. “I love to edit, edit, edit.”
Meanwhile, the city continued to reinvent itself. One seminal event that altered the perception of the city forever is, of course, Art Basel. In just six years, the vast art world gathering has introduced Miami Beach and Miami Dade to thousands of art lovers from around the world. Dennis and Clark, along with numerous other visionaries from the local art and real estate arenas, were there for its origins.
“In 1999,” says Leyva, “I was introduced to Lorenzo Rudolph, the art director of Art Basel (and the person who had developed the idea of having a sister fair in Miami Beach) by Mera and Don Rubell. The following week we went to the Miami Beach Convention Center to check for the availability of dates in 2001 for the first edition of Art Basel Miami Beach. Due to 9/11 the first edition in 2001 did not take place. The following summer I was sent to Basel by the City of Miami Beach to man a booth at Art Basel to provide assistance to galleries and individuals that would be coming in 2002.”
That visit to Basel ignited a passion for Chinese contemporary art and their collection shifted from that day forth. Suddenly, favored Mapplethorpe’s and other American artists were forced to share wall space with emerging Chinese stars such as Xiang Liquinq and Liu Zheng. Blatantly political pieces secured pride of place. Shaoyinong and Muchen’s The Assembly Hall Series 2002, a photograph of a massive assembly hall seems without mystery until Leyva mischievously points out, “This is where they used to brainwash the dissidents.”
Their other pieces are by turns incendiary, melancholy, or just plain rude. These choices seem to hint at a desire to disrupt the profound placidity of the bay view. A view such as theirs, with kayaks and sailboats and dolphins and a beautiful skyline in the distance is incredibly soothing. But soothing is not always what is needed. For that there are Golden Girls reruns. Their Chinese art is a reminder that cities rise and fall, grow and change, and young people take over. Where there was once decrepitude, there is re-invention. In fact, the art of Leyva and Reynolds perfectly mirrors the spirit of those long-lost, bad old days of South Beach.
