The villa was as colorful as it was charming, the formal gardens, among the most elaborate in the United States, serene and green. I think I might have just died and gone to a subtropical heaven.
Just a little cottage by the bay.
Actually, Jimmy and I, along with Lynda/my sister/host/activities director had gone to see this twentieth century “jewel among Miami’s skyscrapers and subdivisions” on a winter day this past January, a day magically and wonderfully bereft of polar vortexes and grey skies.
Magically, the place was also bereft of the usual crowds of people that typically flock to see stunning and culturally significant National Historical Landmarks (2,528 in the US alone). It was our lucky day, as in a “Very Vizcaya” day!
Magically, the place was also bereft of the usual crowds of people that typically flock to see stunning and culturally significant National Historical Landmarks (2,528 in the US alone). It was our lucky day, as in a “Very Vizcaya” day!
That’s right, “Very Vizcaya” day, as in a truly remarkable and memorable experience that embodies the complexity and contradiction of this truly remarkable estate on Miami’s Biscayne Bay, International Harvester heir John Deering’s Villa Vizcaya.
My picture doesn't do this mansion justice! The water & boat/barge kept getting in the way of a good picture.
Where to begin? My head is spinning with memorable encounters with ancient Roman sculptures,
Oops, a little wardrobe malfunction makes this R-rated.
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Very little wardrobe to speak of for this fair maiden.
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Renaissance architecture,
I'll take one of these for my back yard, please.
Spanish merchants,
The famed Spanish explored, Vizcaino, graces the entrance to his namesake, Vizcaya.
Chinese ceramics and Neo-classical furniture (sorry, no pictures allowed inside this astounding villa), and charming formal gardens.
I'd have to say, the formal garden was ah-mazing!
Oh, and one rather large and colorful iguana you may remember meeting already, if you’re a regular to this blog (here’s a link if you’re wondering about my encounter with Iggy; it was posted two weeks ago).
There's Iggy being his big, bad self.
Deering, a retired millionaire in his fifties in 1910, wanted his Italian villa to look old (certainly a prerequisite when it comes to Italian villas), and yet offer the latest in modern conveniences like refrigeration, generators, an intercom system, heating and ventilation, a central vacuum-cleaning system and a partly automated laundry room.
Thanks Wikipedia; and John Singer Sargent, for this portrait.
An astute businessman (educated at Chicago's Northwestern University and the Massachusetts Institute of Technology), Deering was Vice President of International Harvester, overseeing the Illinois manufacturing plants before retiring) was relentless in pursuing his dream. He and artistic director Paul Chalfin devoted six years to traveling Europe collecting artifacts and exploring architecture to insure each room in the house (household staff lived in 12 of the 34 rooms furnished; there were 70 rooms total) was authentic.
When they were ready, Deering handed his project over to a young, unknown architect, Francis Hoffman, who would have no qualms bending to his wealthy client’s expectations.
Milan was the inspiration for Vizcaya’s Music Room (loved the harp), Palermo inspiration for the Reception Room. Deering’s personal suite was masculine yet ornate, the furniture from the Napoleonic era.
From whimsy (Deering’s billiards table flipped to reveal a roulette wheel; a panel on a wall in the Living Room opened to reveal a pipe organ) to wall coverings, furniture to fixtures, Vizcaya became an eclectic mix of old and new reflecting the period in which the villa was born, the American Renaissance, a testament to Deering’s refined and cultured status as a Renaissance man.
I loved the two-story open-air courtyard around which the house had been built. No pictures, again; sorry. Suffused with sunlight and fresh air (a huge skylight was added in the 1980’s, updated in 2012), it was a place of beauty filled with trees, orchids and all manner of tropical plants. Wonder if it was filled with mosquitoes and gnats back in the day.
After all, the waterfront property on which Deering built his Italian villa was originally little more than a jungle of mangrove trees at the turn of the century (Deering situated his villa close to the water to salvage as much of the mangrove forest as possible; not the wisest choice as a property owner, but certainly favorable as a conservationist), much of Florida an uninhabitable swamp.
Miami boasted a population of 10,000; a thousand of those inhabitants found work helping Deering build Vizcaya. Deering even built a small village west of his winter home to house many of the workers and eventually the staff.
Transporting building materials to the site (the automobile had just been invented when Deering began planning his winter home in 1910; paved roads were another decade coming) required Deering build a railroad tract to connect with the Florida East Coast Railway. He also dredged a channel in the shallow waters of Biscayne Bay so boats could deliver passengers, supplies, furnishings and works of art to the remote site.
When they were ready, Deering handed his project over to a young, unknown architect, Francis Hoffman, who would have no qualms bending to his wealthy client’s expectations.
Milan was the inspiration for Vizcaya’s Music Room (loved the harp), Palermo inspiration for the Reception Room. Deering’s personal suite was masculine yet ornate, the furniture from the Napoleonic era.
From whimsy (Deering’s billiards table flipped to reveal a roulette wheel; a panel on a wall in the Living Room opened to reveal a pipe organ) to wall coverings, furniture to fixtures, Vizcaya became an eclectic mix of old and new reflecting the period in which the villa was born, the American Renaissance, a testament to Deering’s refined and cultured status as a Renaissance man.
I loved the two-story open-air courtyard around which the house had been built. No pictures, again; sorry. Suffused with sunlight and fresh air (a huge skylight was added in the 1980’s, updated in 2012), it was a place of beauty filled with trees, orchids and all manner of tropical plants. Wonder if it was filled with mosquitoes and gnats back in the day.
After all, the waterfront property on which Deering built his Italian villa was originally little more than a jungle of mangrove trees at the turn of the century (Deering situated his villa close to the water to salvage as much of the mangrove forest as possible; not the wisest choice as a property owner, but certainly favorable as a conservationist), much of Florida an uninhabitable swamp.
Miami boasted a population of 10,000; a thousand of those inhabitants found work helping Deering build Vizcaya. Deering even built a small village west of his winter home to house many of the workers and eventually the staff.
Transporting building materials to the site (the automobile had just been invented when Deering began planning his winter home in 1910; paved roads were another decade coming) required Deering build a railroad tract to connect with the Florida East Coast Railway. He also dredged a channel in the shallow waters of Biscayne Bay so boats could deliver passengers, supplies, furnishings and works of art to the remote site.
Whatever floats your boat. This one sported a bridge for accessing, live plants, and a trellis back in the day.
No, this wasn’t one of the boats run aground along Deering’s waterfront property. This was Deering’s Spanish caravel, a monumental cement breakwater Barge reminiscent of the boats of past explorers (the name Vizcaya is Deering's clever adaptation of the Spanish explorer, Vizcaino, who was believed to have explored the Americas in the early 1600s) where sculpted mythical Caribbean creatures joined guests in an evening of memorable entertainment on the water.
Yep; plenty of mythical Caribbean creatures to keep this boat afloat.
And of course, there were the magnificent gardens to explore, which I'll share tomorrow. We had to take a break for lunch after touring the villa.
Excuse me while we eat. It's rude to talk with my mouth full!
Excuse me while we eat. It's rude to talk with my mouth full!
The café menu was a palate pleasing sophisticated blend of salads, sandwiches and wraps - of course.
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