Design Miami unfolded as a sequence of moments rather than a single event. Days moved through conversations, gestures, silences, and encounters that slowly accumulated meaning. From the very first hours, the booth became a place people stepped into, not simply passed by. A space to pause inside the intensity of the fair.
This was my first solo booth at Design Miami, presented as both an interior designer and a Latin American voice within the collectible design landscape. I conceived the installation as a world of its own, immersive and tactile, where objects, material, form, and light could exist in quiet dialogue. A space where design edges toward sculpture, and where objects hold presence beyond function.
Throughout the days, the booth remained full. Collectors, designers, editors, and friends gathered organically, drawn by the atmosphere and the material language of the work. Some stayed silent, taking their time with the pieces. Others asked about process, scale, and materiality. Many returned with someone else, wanting to share the experience of the space.
Amber resin became a point of conversation. Its warmth, translucency, and depth invited people closer, revealing itself slowly as light moved across its surface. The pieces lived somewhere between familiarity and otherness, grounding the installation while allowing it to feel porous and luminous.
Gifting became part of the ritual. The totes and newspapers were conceived as small extensions of the booth, objects meant to travel beyond the fair. The newspaper held images and words that traced the collection and its intentions, while the totes carried fragments of Design Miami into the city and beyond. These gestures felt important, quiet ways of continuing the conversation outside the booth.
Mirror I quickly revealed itself as a focal point. People gravitated toward it instinctively. Its scale, topographic surface, and reflective depth anchored the installation, becoming one of the most photographed and discussed objects. Watching people see themselves within it, framed by amber light, felt deeply intimate.
Design Miami was also about connection. Conversations with galleries, press, institutions, and fellow designers unfolded naturally, many of them without agenda. Some encounters were brief, others felt like the beginning of longer dialogues. Being part of this context reaffirmed my place within the global collectible design conversation, while remaining rooted in my Latin American perspective.
As the fair came to an end, what lingered most was a sense of momentum. Design Miami did not feel like a conclusion, but an opening. An invitation to continue building spaces and objects where material carries memory, where design becomes experience, and where people are invited to step inside and stay, even if only for a moment.
