Faena Residences, Recycling the Bones
What is it with Faena and bones?
From the mammoth on the beach to the towers on the river, is this the beginning of a series? Alan Faena: The Bone Collector. Season two just dropped, and this time, the bones aren’t fossilized… they’re being built.
Faena knows how to turn preservation into permanence. Collecting, exhibiting and elevating.
Take Damien Hirst’s Gone but not Forgotten: a 24-karat gold-dipped woolly mammoth, on display in the garden of the Faena Hotel Miami Beach, like it’s waiting for its next act. It’s art as relic. Myth as decor. A skeleton held up as a reminder that even extinction can be curated.
But across the bridge, it’s not preservation, it’s revival. A new kid coming to the river is dressed in familiar skin.
photo by Nadia Bouzid
photo by Nadia Bouzid
Faena Rebranding | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Faena Residences Miami River is the brand’s latest launch. New interiors, fresh branding, a clean pitch. But the foundation? Still Viñoly’s. Twin towers. Skybridge. The same architectural skeleton drawn nearly a decade ago for One River Point.
The project? Faena Residences Miami River.
The design? Twin towers linked by a dramatic skybridge.
The architect? The late Rafael Viñoly.
And if that sounds familiar, it should.
This was supposed to be One River Point, a Viñoly vision commissioned years ago by KAR Properties. The project launched sales, made headlines, and then quietly dissolved…. crickets… just silence.
Now, the same developer, in partnership with Alan Faena and Fortune, has pulled Viñoly’s old drawing out of the archives, slapped a new name on it, and reintroduced it to the market.
I’m not here to knock the project. I work in real estate. Some of these residences will be extraordinary. But I also don’t buy into anything quickly, not emotionally, not professionally. Whether I’m advising a client or walking through a new concept, I need to understand it fully. It has to make sense, architecturally, culturally, structurally. I’m not a quick-sell. And I’m definitely not an easy sell.
That’s how my mind works, that’s just how I process things. And when I see a building like this, one that’s been recycled from a previous era and reframed under a new brand. I don’t run from the questions. I lean in.
Viñoly passed away in 2023. This might be a tribute, a design carried forward after his passing. But calling it visionary feels like a stretch. The bones haven’t changed. Same towers. Same bridge. Same seductive views.
date: 12/2018 | photo by Nadia Bouzid
date: December 2018 | photo by Nadia Bouzid
What’s different now is the packaging. The Faena stamp. Reds, velvet, cultural capital. But the core is the same. So, is this evolution or just revival?
Architecture doesn’t live in renderings. It lives in sunlight, humidity, salt, and the way a building actually shows up when the drawings are long forgotten. That’s why being awake matters, because reputation doesn’t cast shadows, but glass does.
Let’s not forget Viñoly’s 20 Fenchurch Street in London, for many the "Walkie-Talkie." Its curved glass facade turned the building into a kind of architectural magnifying glass, focusing sunlight so intensely that it warped cars, cracked tiles, and disrupted life on the street below. The press called it the “Walkie-Scorchie.”
To be clear, this Miami project looks nothing like it. Different form, different intent. But it's worth remembering that even legendary architects aren’t immune to unintended consequences. Especially in cities like Miami, where sunlight is relentless, and the river turns every surface into a reflector. Design doesn’t exist in isolation, it exists in climate, material, and time. While aesthetics matter, so does engineering…. food for thought.
The studio will likely see it through, that’s usually how this works. But the architect is gone. And even with the best intentions, a vision can shift quietly when it's passed from hand to hand. From architect to studio, to developer, to marketing team. That doesn’t mean it’s doomed, it just means someone has to keep asking if the spirit of the design is still intact.
The site- date: May 2021 | photo by Nadia Bouzid
The site - date: July 2019 |photo by Nadia Bouzid
Still, I come back to what matters most to me: location, intention, and what a building gives back to the place it's in.
What I do believe in is the river.
In a city that worships the beach and bay views, the river has been the underdog. But every major city is built on one. London. Paris. Chicago. Buenos Aires. Rivers carry history and momentum. They hold the tension of grit and grace. And the Miami River is just starting to flex.
This project is proof that the river is rising. And I believe in what that means for the city.
You’re not just buying Viñoly. You’re buying a story that was paused, renamed, and rebooted. For some, that’s poetic. For others, it’s a flag.
Recycling and repurposing, It’s very now, very on trend. More reinvention, low-waste, wrapped in luxury resale.
We’re living in an age where everything gets a second act.
Recession hair. Recession nails. Recession silhouettes. The Gen Z cycle is all about making something out of what already exists, and wearing it like it’s brand new.
So maybe a recycled high-rise with a skybridge fits right in.
The only difference is, when I buy something recycled, I like to know exactly where it came from, and whether it still works.
This is for those of us who don’t believe the first thing we’re told.
For the buyers who ask too many questions.
For the agents who can’t stand templated pitches, and don’t just walk through granite countertops.
If that’s you — welcome.
In the News
The Miami River Is Waking Up
— Beyond Square Footage
It always starts quietly. A few cranes. A restaurant opening that actually stays open. Rumors of a hotel group buying land "just west of Brickell." Then one day you look up and realize: the Miami River isn't a secret anymore. It's a storyline.
For years, the river was overlooked. Too gritty. Too industrial. Too in-between. Developers mentioned it in pitch decks, but very few followed through with anything worth walking into, let alone investing in. It wasn’t the bay. It wasn’t the beach. It was a place you passed on your way to somewhere better.
But that was then. And this? This is a very different moment.
The Miami River is waking up and the real players are already circling.
This isn’t hype. It’s a shift. The kind HNW buyers, family offices, and first-movers recognize before the brochures catch up. Hospitality groups that don’t gamble on maybes are locking in sites. Restaurants that don’t wait for foot traffic are making moves. When Cipriani signs on one end and the Aria team makes moves on the other, you know this isn’t speculation. It’s direction.
Multifamily and mixed-use developers are mapping the future around marinas and waterfront zoning. Because the smart money is realizing what’s been hiding in plain sight: the river has the location, the grit, and the scalability that other neighborhoods spent the last decade losing.
It has drivers. Real ones.
Proximity to Brickell. You get the adjacency without the gridlock or premium.
Zoning flexibility. The riverfront is one of the few remaining corridors where creativity isn’t punished by policy.
Infrastructure momentum. The city is paying attention. Improvements aren’t theoretical. They’re funded.
Character. And not the manufactured kind. The boats. The mix. The kinetic energy. The contrast between raw and refined. The river still has texture and attitude.
This is the rare slice of Miami where the vision-to-value gap hasn’t closed—yet. Where your build can still change the narrative. Where real estate can still be storytelling. Where you’re not just buying into a location, you’re shaping the next one.
The Miami River isn’t a maybe. It’s a next. The water's already moving. So is the money.