Gatsbyesque Eclecticism and The Vizcaya Museum and Gardens

James Deering was somewhat of a Gatsbyesque figure. He amassed a fortune as a leading executive of his family’s company, the Deering Harvester Company, a then-quasi-monopoly founded by his father, William Deering, around 1870. The company became a titan of the American Industrial Revolution and one of the most powerful corporate empires in the age of gilded America by pioneering the manufacturing and sale of agricultural machinery.

Villa Vizcaya, as it was originally called, was born as a winter retreat. Deering Jr. was plagued by poor health and thought of South Florida’s warmer climate as the perfect place to build his dream estate. The inspiration for the name came from the 15th-century Spanish merchant and explorer Sebastián Vizcaíno, in a deliberate attempt to connect the estate to the early history of exploration in South Florida.

It was constructed primarily between 1914 and 1922 at the then-enormous cost of about $15 million and was conceived as a whimsical, modern interpretation of an 18th-century Italian villa. The creative team was comprised of Paul Chalfin as artistic director, Francis Burrall Hoffman Jr. as the main architect to work on the physical structure, and Colombian-born architect Diego Suarez in charge of the gardens. The trio of relative neophytes was deliberately picked by Deering instead of established architects of the time to avoid “autocratic” figures dictating the design.

Despite its European aesthetic, the estate was designed to adapt to Miami’s unique climate: an open-air central courtyard, thick walls, and expansive loggias maximize cross-breezes and withstand tropical storms. The main house comprises 34 rooms arranged around a central courtyard in an eclectic interior style that deliberately combines elements from different historic periods, from Italian Rococo to stricter Neoclassical. It is said that this was an attempt to give the impression that the estate had been accumulated by an aristocratic family over several generations.

That is the main criticism that an architecture layman can make: when walking around Vizcaya, it is rather easy to perceive the obsession with transposing European grandeur into the soil of the new continent and a rather excessive eclectic streak that turns the whole thing into a pastiche, almost a theme-park version of an Italian estate. This is essentially the kind of architectural theatricality that old money bought when it was still new money.

The formal gardens span around 40,000 square meters and blend French and Italian Renaissance geometry with the native flora of southern Florida. They include intricate maze patterns, hidden grottos, and historic fountains.

The stone barge is one of the estate’s most iconic elements: it is essentially a limestone breakwater in the shape of an ornate barge positioned directly in front of the house. It was adorned with mythical sea creature carvings by the American sculptor Alexander Stirling Calder and originally featured mature trees to welcome guests arriving by boat.

The secret garden is particularly beautiful. It was designed by Diego Suarez and Paul Chalfin to mimic an enclosed sunken Italian Renaissance courtyard. The contrast between the stucco walls in soft ochre yellow, the native coral limestone pillars, and the intense green of the plants induces an impression of traveling back to a time and place where this kind of organic, colorful, and rock-textured beauty was possible. It evokes a perfect Spanish garden somewhere under the Mexican sun, perhaps.

The south tower spiral staircase is also a sight to see. Viewed from above, it forms a tight, perfect geometric spiral that gives the illusion of endless depth, leading the eye toward a mosaic floor medallion. The steps are cut from solid stone blocks that have developed an abundant patina since their construction.

Finally, the Casino on the Garden Mound, which used to function as a tea house, features classical architecture: 18th-century Italian and French garden design inspired by Italian Renaissance garden lodges. It feels like a shaded sanctuary from the harsh Floridian sun, framed by a dense canopy of ancient oak trees. The landscape architect Diego Suarez placed it on top of an artificial hill at the southern end of the estate’s main axis.

Vizcaya is a must-visit for anyone who sets foot in Miami, if only to catch a glimpse of the opulence of the American Gilded Age and witness firsthand the legacy of a character that seems to prove reality has its ways of eclipsing fiction, no matter how Gatsbyesque the latter may be.