The murals are watching, because Downtown Miami does have a Soul
Downtown Miami has always been more than the sum of its square footage. It’s a place where old buildings lean into each other like elders in conversation, and yet, so many of those structures sit silent now.
Abandoned. Gutted. Waiting.
By day, the district moves: people walking to and from, lunch crowds spill out, deliveries stack up. But at night, much of it dims. The lights go off. The rhythm fades.
Except for the walls.
There’s a moment, around 8:47 p.m. when Downtown Miami feels like the city forgot it. But the murals stay. Watching.
On the west-facing wall of Mana Common’s headquarters, a bold, larger-than-life Mona Lisa faces Flagler Street, not framed, but commanding. On the south side of the building, a vibrant take on Girl with a Pearl Earring holds her own above the traffic and tired storefronts. Both murals were painted by Spanish artist René Mäkelä, known as Makelismos and together, they’ve added more than paint to Downtown. They’ve added presence.
You don’t just see these murals, you feel them. And suddenly, Downtown doesn’t feel so empty.
These aren’t marketing. They’re urban acupuncture, small but powerful interventions that remind us how much visual culture matters, especially in a city where so much is still being built.
And at night? They deserve better lighting. Because these murals don’t just belong to business hours, they should light up the city after dark, the same way they wake it up by day.
Across Downtown, the pulse is getting stronger. At the Southeast Financial Center, French artist Mantra has placed hyper-realistic butterflies across the rooftop, surreal, delicate, and impossible to ignore. “Legacy in Levity” by Maren Conrad stretches across concrete with unapologetic color, proof that beauty still wants to live here.
Artist: Maren Conrad | Title: Legacy in Levity mural | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Artist: Makelismos | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Artist: Makelismos | photo by Nadia Bouzid
While these pieces can’t fix the whole picture, they’re signals.
Signals that this part of the city isn’t finished, not yet.
And still, places like Soya e Pomodoro hang on, inside the once-grand Shoreland Arcade, now sprouting literal weeds. The food still hits. The music still plays. The building breathes, barely. Freddy’s, the downtown institution inside the Seybold Building is moving to the street-facing side. La Casa de las Viejas, a fabric shop that served generations, has been priced out. So much of Downtown retail is disappearing quietly. Not because no one came, but because the rent came faster.
Not every building needs to be survive. Some outlived their purpose. But let’s stop treating every teardown as an upgrade.
Architecture shouldn’t just be about square footage and spreadsheets. It should be creative, a reflection of Miami’s layers, contradictions, and potential.
This city is a canvas. And every project is a chance to design something that speaks, not just stacks units.
Legacy isn’t built in height alone. It’s built in intention. In how we shape space to reflect who we are, and who we want to be.
Too many new towers go up with no rhythm, no story, no soul. Glass, steel, and ROI, dropped into the city like they could’ve come from anywhere.
CVI.CHE 105 Downtown Miami | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Because not all old buildings are blight. Some are anchors.
Miami Tower | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Take the Miami Tower, designed by I.M. Pei. It doesn’t scream. It doesn’t flex. But its color-shifting lights are part of the city’s language now. It’s a landmark not just in height, but in identity.
We don’t need to freeze Downtown in amber. But we do need to build forward with intention.
Developers talk about ROI, amenities, absorption rates. But ask yourself: what makes people fall in love with a place?
A mural that stops you mid-step. A building that nods to what came before. A rooftop that invites conversation, not just cocktails. A sidewalk that feels like a canvas, not a corridor.
These details don’t just beautify Downtown, they brand it.
Downtown resists by making legends.
In 2008, when the country was on its knees, the Peruvian chef Juan Chipoco opened CVI.CHE 105 in Downtown with twenty seats and a dream. Today? His restaurants serve thousands across the city. But it started here. In the middle of the rubble, he built an empire.
Motek did the same. In June 2020, the hospitality group launched their first restaurant inside the historic Seybold Building at 36 NE 1st Street. A pandemic, an economic standstill, and still, it worked. Today, Motek is woven into the Miami food scene with locations from Aventura to Coral Gables. But the soul? Started Downtown.
The good news? We’re not too late. Downtown Miami is still in its adolescence, a little raw, a little awkward, but full of potential.
We don’t have to make it look like anywhere else. We don’t need more “luxury” without legacy.
What we need is intention. Art. Identity.
Because this isn’t Brickell. It’s not Wynwood. It’s Downtown.
And if we get it right, that’ll mean something.
One Flagler by Morris Lapidus | photo by Nadia Bouzid
Downtown Miami doesn’t need to be saved. It needs to be seen.
By night. By light. Through murals, rooftops, and the spaces in between.
Let’s stop rushing to erase and start building something that introduces itself.
Because the best stories aren’t written from scratch, they’re uncovered, elevated, and given a reason to shine.
And maybe that’s the truth about Downtown: it doesn’t need fixing, it needs seeing. It needs people willing to walk its streets with their eyes open, to notice what’s growing between the cracks, not just what’s been overlooked or left behind. The soul’s still here.
This is where dreamers should be looking.
The chefs with a wild concept, the developer who wants to build something that lasts, the artists, architects, and business owners who want more than another glossy launch. Downtown doesn’t need to copy what’s worked elsewhere, it can be the place where something new starts.
There’s space here. For grit. For beauty. For bold ideas that don’t fit anywhere else. Downtown doesn’t just deserve a second act, it’s inviting one.
And the murals? They’re not watching out of nostalgia. They’re watching for what’s next, holding the door open, already part of the story being written.
