On April 4, Naples couple Kelly and Mike Mahigel woke up to the news that Gaetano Pesce had died. For many, the news was a blip. The design aficionados among us lamented the loss and maybe raised a glass to the maestro of radical design, who broke all the rules to bring about furnishings that were as probing as they were joyful. To the Mahigels, a pair of postmodern collectors and dealers, the news was everything. “He’s considered this huge enigma for bringing art, fashion and design together,” Mike says. “And, he’s had this incredible renaissance at the end of his life and has been doing some of his best work in recent years.” 

It’s hard to calculate exact figures in the collectible design sphere, but the couple believes they have the largest repository of Gaetano Pesce’s work in the country, with 35 of the designer’s genre-defying pieces. That morning, one of Pesce’s Senza Fine chairs went for $20,000. “People were just starting to discover him in recent years from his partnership with Bottega Veneta and grander exposure in the art world,” Mike says. “He died in a parabola of exposure.” 

Spontaneous design dissertations are common at PDA Gallery, the Mahigels’ new Naples Design District showroom, on the corner of Tamiami Trail and Ninth Street South. Nearing 40—with two kids and ready to retire from careers in asset management and real estate—Kelly and Mike moved to Naples last summer and quietly opened PDA in the fall. By January, the word was out.

The showroom is an expression of all the things the duo love. “It’s like the name says—this is a public display of our affection,” Kelly says. “Everyone thinks we’re trying to be ethereal, and no, we’re on the nose—we want people to understand it.” 

If you’re into design, it can feel like a mirage when you stumble across the strip mall gallery. You might see living room-like arrangements with a translucent Shiro Kuramata Ghost lamp next to a Tetris-like, robot-shaped Alessandro Guerriero Filosofo cabinet, and a Carl Fredrik Svenstedt undulating, wooden bench nearby. Sometimes, they hone in with an exhibit, covering a subgenre from their 200-plus-piece collection that’s constantly being replenished (currently, an ode to Pesce; next month, it may be Japanese postmodernism, with Kuramata and Shigeru Uchida). 

Exposure and education are part of the mission for PDA, which emphasizes experimental postmodern design from the 1970s to early 2000s. “That’s when you have the pendulum swing from utility-driven true modernists—Le Corbusier, Charlotte Perriand—to complete ornamentalism and decoration,” Mike says. “It’s a very controversial era.” 

Always ones to march to their own beat, the Mahigels like to live in that space of discovery. While they trade in any collectible design that’s rare and radical, their specialty is out-of-production postmodern works.

Mike compares their avant-garde design with sushi. “It’s like uni,” he says. You might be familiar with and love the salmon and tempura shrimp rolls, but the slimy, oceanic sea urchin is an acquired taste. You have to acclimate to the foreign piece in front of you, get to know it, learn its materiality, where it came from, how it was made, what was happening when it emerged. 

Growing up, Kelly and Mike had both been counterculture kids into thrifting and vintage (“I was obsessed with Space Age Modern,” Kelly says). In adulthood, their collecting gateway was the estate sale-find of a 1966 Pierre Paulin Ribbon Chair, about 10 years ago. “The pool became an ocean,” Mike says. Mike, a research-driven asset manager by training, dove into the history and throughlines—how furniture design connects to architecture, design, fashion, art and informs our cultural narrative. He thinks of collectible design as others think about wine or cars. “It becomes this cultural diaspora,” he says. Kelly was drawn to the thrill of the hunt and the beauty of the furnishings. 

Around 2016, the couple started flipping houses. With every new home, they’d skip the neutral, turn-key palette developers hope will appeal to the masses. “We always furnished and styled the home in the manner the home demanded,” Kelly says. A 6,000-square-foot Midwestern manse with Old English vibes might get wall-to-wall houndstooth wallpaper and Mastercraft brass vitrines. Instead of displaying fine china, they filled the cabinets with funky Memphis Milano ceramics. 

[caption id="attachment_68940" align="aligncenter" width="850"] The Mahigels constantly rotate objects from their 200-plus-piece collection between their home and showroom. Floral Alessandro Becchi Le Bugie chairs may sit next to pastel-hued Memphis Era cabinet. In the gallery, the couple hosts topical exhibits, like Gaetano’s Garden, running through early May. (Photo by Dan Cutrona)[/caption]

While Mike is the walking design encyclopedia, Kelly is the aesthete and offers design services and consults for people who want to branch out. “We want to show people that these pieces can work in any space,” Kelly says. 

The couple owns their entire reserve outright. “If we’re not willing to own it, why would we sell it?” Mike posits. Furnishings move between their Design District gallery, Downtown Naples home, and a series of 10-by-20-foot storage units scattered across Southwest Florida at higher, hurricane-weary ground. Less-precious pieces that can take a beating from their 3- and 5-year-olds go to their North Naples apartment. 

Despite its 2,500-square-foot size and lakefront locale, the Mahigels’ Downtown Naples home isn’t exactly a beaute by modern-day standards—and they’ll be the first to tell you that. One of those dated, 2000s Tuscan builds, the house still has its dark trim, raised-panel cabinets and a wealth of arches. But, it looks charming and inspired against the bombastic furnishings, like the pair of Memphis Milano cabinets in the living room—one a 2000s reissue, the other an original. Across the room, there’s a museum-worthy Ettore Sottsass Tartar Table that’s thought to be a prototype, and in the living room, a pastel-hued Alessandro Mendini cabinet. Afghan prayer rugs underfoot somehow tie it all together. Kelly likes to quote Leah Ring, of California, experimental design studio Another Human: “Life is way too short for a beige sofa.”   

The post PDA Gallery Sets a New Standard for Design in Naples appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

Whether fresh Gulf seafood on a waterfront patio, tender meatballs or a pour of rare Scotch, we’re always on the hunt for a delicious, can’t-stop-thinking-about-it meal. These are those spots.

The New Fifth Ave Hotspot

Well-loved Chicago restaurant Le Colonial followed snowbirds south, opening its doors on Fifth Avenue South in December. The retro French-Vietnamese-inspired design—lush palms, louvered shutters and mahogany millwork—feels tailor-made for balmy Naples nights. The menu includes the restaurant’s familiar favorites spicy lemongrass chicken stir-fry and shaking filet of beef, with a greater emphasis on seafood as a nod to the coastal setting. Nab a seat at the bar suggests Gulfshore Life marketing consultant Holly Baldwin, where Le Colonial recently debuted a new cocktail program curated by Danilo Dacha Božović, who co-founded the Miami outpost of cultish New York City speakeasy Employees Only.

The Whiskey Den

Connoisseurs who know their Pappy from their Macallan can seriously geek out over two dozen pages of single-malt Scotch, rye and bourbon at the new Naples Design District restaurant Warren. But even whiskey neophytes will be impressed, says publisher Carin Keane. “From the minute you walk in, you feel the energy,” she promises. “The Old World-meets-Wall Street design makes you feel like you’re in a big city.” The kitchen turns out haute bar snacks, like Korean fried cauliflower and a bourbon-glazed burger, and those looking to splurge can pony up $10,000 to join the private club, which includes access to a posh private room, exclusive single-barrel offerings and tasting events.

The Fresh Take on Seafood

Restaurateur and hotelier Peter Tierney’s latest seafood-forward foray (you already may have sidled up to the raw bar at his The Claw Bar) is a true celebration of our waterways. On an inlet off the Gordon River, The waterfront patio at The Syren Oyster & Cocktail Bar is our digital media marketing manager Brittney Kleis’ favorite new spot for seafood standards like platters of oysters, lobster dishes and fresh catches from the Gulf. (Brittney knows what she’s talking about—the Florida native is married to a Florida Fish and Wildlife Commission guy.) In place of popular grouper and bass, the restaurant champions lesser-known local species in dishes like triggerfish schnitzel with lemon-caper butter and simply grilled sheepshead or yellowtail.

The Family-Run Red Sauce Joint

It’s not only brand-new spots that have us buzzing; Gulfshore Life senior editor Emma Witmer is partial to the tried-and-true Bruno’s of Brooklyn and its milestone move. When Emma relocated to town, her brother took her to the Downtown Fort Myers restaurant. “He wanted me to see one of the places that makes this region truly special, and as much as I hate to admit it, my brother was right,” she says. Opened in 2014 as an homage to red sauce cuisine from the owners’ New York hometown and family roots in Sicily, the restaurant excels at multigenerational family recipes (the tender meatballs and rich lasagna are musts), backed by house-made mozzarella and sausages, imported pantry staples and local produce whenever possible. This summer, Bruno’s moves to a century-old building on First Street, with a grand opening and ribbon-cutting to follow on their 10th anniversary, September 18th. The owners have spent the last year and a half refurbishing the space, preserving the original fireplace and brick masonry, converting the bank vault into a wine and fine Cognac cellar, and adding a dessert lounge on the second floor. 

The post Our Team Picks their Favorite New Restaurants for 2024 appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

Florida’s nickname, the Sunshine State, may pay tribute to our abundant bluebird days, but I prefer the moments just before dark, when the light bends and melts over the coast in a fiery gradient of oranges, reds and pinks. Even after seeing some of the most jaw-dropping places in the world over the past year as a travel writer, Southwest Florida is still unrivaled in her beauty at sunset. Now, I’ve finally found the best seat to catch the fiery show: Sunseeker Resort Charlotte Harbor. Tethered to the Peace River in Punta Gorda, Sunseeker opened its doors in December, after nearly six years of anticipation.

Budget airline Allegiant spent more than $650 million on this plush, 22-acre resort that’s equally attractive for local staycationers and global travelers. A stay in one of the 785 rooms—many of which are suites with bedrooms, full kitchens and private balconies, with water views—unlocks a host of exclusive amenities. Topping the list are the rolling fairways at the nearby Aileron Golf Club—an 18-hole course designed by Kipp Schulties Golf Design, the architects behind more than 50 courses in the state, including The Legends in Fort Myers and Naples’ Vanderbilt Country Club. 

The 20 onsite dining and drinking establishments (also open to the public) likely mean those suite kitchens will go largely unused (though they’ll be good for storing snacks and drinks for nightcaps). Split colossal tiger prawns and a monstrous tomahawk at Maury’s steakhouse, sip more than 100 tequilas at coastal Mexican Blue Lime, or book a table for  farm-to-table Italian at Stretto. I particularly love the Harbor Yards Food Hall, which has vendors devoted to perfecting a single specialty, from gelato at Charlotte Parlor to charcuterie boards at Chartisan. (Don’t worry, you can work off all the overindulging later at the Technogym-stocked fitness center, where walls of glass grant a 180-degree view of Charlotte Harbor.)

Still, the main focus of your visit is on the views across the waterfront, seen from the resort’s bounty of westward-facing amenities. On the first day of my staycation, lounging in the ground-level pool with a cocktail in hand, I watch as a brilliant sunset casts pastel streaks across the sky. Eight stories above, other guests gather around the adults-only rooftop pool, where the view is even more glorious, sweeping across the glassy Charlotte Harbor toward the endless horizon beyond.

Around here, there’s really no bad seat in the house when the sun takes its final bow; wherever you are on the property, it’s sure to be a stellar performance.   

The post Charlotte Harbor’s New Ultraluxe Staycation is for SWFL Sunset Lovers appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

Everyone is a regular at Unidos. Easy interactions punctuate visits to this Latin fusion restaurant, where the hospitality channels the attention of notoriously generous Hispanic grandmothers.

Soon after the restaurant opened in January, a friend and I sidled into one of the peony pink banquettes for supper. The dining room was already alive with the buzz of cocktail hour, and the late afternoon sun blazed through the wall of windows into the chic, midcentury-meets-coastal hacienda space—and directly into my eyes. Within seconds of clocking my discomfort, the hostess pressed a button to lower the shades (soon after, she raised them again, as if on cue, for sunset).

With an emphasis on remixing Latin American flavors and traditions with global culinary cornerstones (French, Italian, Asian, Spanish), the Naples Design District restaurant introduces something new to Southwest Florida. While hotspots like Bicyclette Cookshop, Warren and Le Colonial have claimed the media spotlight for the past few months, Unidos—from the trio behind Chicago-based restaurant Unidad—started with a quiet rollout, flying relatively under the radar.

For our team, the vibrant Ninth Street South newcomer is the undisputed standout of the year. Our Colombian-American editor-in-chief claims it was love at first bite when she had Unidos’ delightfully golden, crispy empanadas (“Who knew the original could be improved?” she says). The presentation and vigorous flavors resonated with our former food editor Andrew Atkins, too, who ranked the pork shank tacos in the realm of the divine. As for me, I was hooked by the service—all the attention of white-glove hospitality, with the relaxed feel of being with friends. The elements all add up to create a place that seems like it’s been there forever.

Around the open kitchen, barstools tempt guests to belly up for a front-row seat to the action. From our nearby perch, we can see executive chef Melina Martinez putting the finishing touches on our order of crispy yuca fries, a staple on many South American dinner tables. The 30-year-old, Mexican-born chef started as a dishwasher at Unidad when she was a teenager. Melina worked her way up the ranks until landing the lead role at Unidos. “We knew we had a person in Chicago who’s young, aggressive and a superstar in the kitchen,” says Carlos Angel, who is  Colombian and owns Unidos with husband-wife duo Sal and Jaime Muñoz. “[Melina] was the first to understand [our idea of] fusion.”

Melina, Carlos and Sal collaborate on the menus, playing with cooking traditions and flavors from gustatorily rich Latin American countries, including their native lands, as well as Argentina, Cuba, Brazil and Peru. Three-hour testing sessions are standard as the trio reinterprets heritage-driven recipes through the lens of popular global cuisines—and vice versa. Italian risotto gets tropicalized with passion fruit sauce-enveloped salmon, and in a riff on Asian crispy rice, Peruvian ceviche is perched atop croquettes of fried rice, served with Argentine chimichurri.

Every recipe harkens to a place—whether it be the team’s childhood family tables or the slate of restaurants they’ve scouted in the Americas in search of inspiration. The elote fritters—Unidos’ smashed, tempura-covered version of Mexican street corn with cult-favorite Japanese Kewpie mayonnaise—embody the spirit of teamwork, experimentation and underlying pride-of-place that anchors the restaurant. “It takes me back to my childhood,” says Sal, who lived in his family’s native Mexico for a couple of years in his youth.

Like the kitchen, the bar is central to the design and open to diners. High-spirited bartenders mix Latin libations like the pisco sour and caipirinha, as well as spins on classic cocktails, like an old-fashioned with a blended mezcal and rye base. Tropical sippers, like the blueberry-jam mojito mocktail I enjoyed, offer something equally intriguing for non-imbibers.

A festive atmosphere permeates the space as pop favorites remixed with Latin beats (think: Coldplay songs by a cumbia band) play in the background. At the heart of the operation is the flaming Santa Maria grill (similar to an Argentine parrilla but more versatile), fueled by high-heat South American Quebracho hardwood that imparts the intensely smoky, earthy flavor of Argentine barbecue. This beast of a machine is responsible for the envy-inducing pork tacos—a whole slow-cooked shank with meat that slides off the bone, served in a mini cast-iron skillet with greens and blue corn tortillas. Colombian chef Boris Alverez mans the grill, using two cranks to raise and lower the grates for the perfect level of caramelization on Argentinian vacío de novillo (flap steak), Brazilian picanha (juicy top sirloin) and cauliflower steak with passion fruit-coconut sauce.

[caption id="attachment_68676" align="aligncenter" width="683"] Carlos Angel, Sal Muñoz and Jaime Muñoz opened Unidos in January. Our editors were struck by the under-the-radar restaurant’s welcoming atmosphere, intuitive service and vibrant, Latin American flavors. (Photo By Brian Tietz)[/caption]

Housed in a former Starbucks, Unidos stylishly blends into the setting with its gray wraparound metal overhang and black-framed windows. Inside, Jaime worked on the design, mixing rattan pendant lights with pink diner-style booths and rock-cage benches for a Latin midcentury-meets-coastal aesthetic. Ornate tiles, imported from Colombia, add to the sense of place, while the exposed ceilings and quartz bar keep the look decidedly contemporary.

Warm, spirited hospitality is a trademark of Latin American culture, and in this area, Unidos follows its muse to the T. Servers and guests quickly become friends, and Sal and Carlos often stroll the dining room, bussing tables, recommending dishes or offering special pours of late harvest Malbec. The restaurant embodies its name, Unidos, a.k.a. Together—everyone feels part of one, knitted, palate-expanding experience.

As we leave the restaurant, I’m sated and warm—like how I feel leaving a family member’s table. Many restaurants strive to create an ambiance that feels like home; Unidos perfects the vibe.  

The post Raising the Bar on Latin Food in Naples appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

It doesn’t take much for bartender Edgar Sierra to know what kind of drink you’ll like when you slide up to the bar at Bicyclette Cookshop, the sleeper-hit restaurant that has taken Naples by storm since opening last fall. Small context clues, like your spirit of choice, lead to inspired delights: a gin-based sipper with a hibiscus tea reduction and citrus-curd puree (a far more complex take on flavored lemonade) or a spicy tequila espresso martini, like the one that earned him top place at this year’s Tromba Tequila Master of the Margarita competition.

The improvised libation was inspired by his Mexican grandmother’s café de olla (clay pot coffee). “It’s the same clay pot she uses for her chilis, beans—it’s multiuse,” he says. The porous surface retains the flavor, lending the coffee residual spice and earthiness. Edgar hopes to one day open a Mexican bar in Naples to showcase the true spectrum of his family’s native culture—the unsung spirits like fragrant raicilla and earthy bacanora; the blended diasporas that have influenced Mexico’s UNESCO-recognized culinary heritage; and the peoples’ familial-driven vivaciousness. “Hispanics have a big culture of partying, but there’s this beautiful side, where, although it’s a party, people really engage with one another,” he says. 

While it’s been a few years since I put down my cocktail writer pen (I used to write a column for Southern Living about the American South’s then-exploding cocktail scene), I still appreciate a proper bar experience. In its most devout iteration, the industry draws highly creative, well-read, charismatic folks with a deep curiosity about the world around them. When I met Edgar, I saw all of this as he whipped up three- and eight-ingredient drinks with equal finesse, translated preferences into new creations, and expounded on spirits’ provenance with ease.

Starting his career in the kitchen at farm-to-table pioneer Blue Hill and the now-shuttered molecular gastronomy legend wd~50, Edgar learned to perfect the basics (his collection of culinary books is 200 deep and counting), honor tradition (he has deep reverence for the 20th-century classic and neoclassic cocktails) and to play adventurously with flavors. “Just because someone says something doesn’t work, doesn’t mean it won’t—we just haven’t found the way to make it work yet,” he says.

He moved to Naples in 2021 and worked at Rocco’s Tacos and Tequila Bar and District’s back-room speakeasy, Staff Only, before transitioning full-time to Bicyclette. The Vanderbilt Beach Road restaurant—with its innovative chef and kitchen—provides a perfect playground for professional bartenders like Edgar. By the end of his shift, the 31-year-old, New York transplant may have sous vide tequila with super spicy chile de árbol and smoky, chocolatey chile morita to rapidly infuse it for an árbol de tequila tincture; turned leftover citrus peels into a flavor-rich puree; and painted a chamoy puree rim onto a glass, which he then chills for a subtle tequila drink. The hardened condiment imparts delicate savoriness with each sip.

The term craft cocktail gets thrown around lightly these days, but here, it’s exemplified: drinks composed as stories. Edgar tells me about the New York icons like Pegu Club and Angel’s Share, where he began his self-education about 10 years ago, and his time working at ATLA (from the group behind The World’s 50 Best Restaurants standout Cosme). Places that, through osmosis, taught him the mechanics of a proper cocktail: nothing too sweet, nothing watered-down—you need a perfect balance of flavors and a nice, weighty mouthfeel. “It’s like a good wine, the flavors should dance in your mouth,” he says.

Edgar sees Southwest Florida’s bar culture as being at a tipping point, with modernist cocktailery taking root and possibilities abounding. He looks to places like Naples’ new Unidos Restaurant & Bar, with its singular focus on reinterpreting Latin American food and drink, and Chartreuse Craft Cocktail Lounge in Bonita Springs. “They have spirits you won’t find anywhere, like multiple varieties of Haitian rum,” he says.

Before closing down the bar, we toast to a night well spent. Edgar shakes up a gin martini with the addition of Yellow Chartreuse, St-Germain, orange blossom water and bitters. He splits the drink into three shot glasses and tops mine with a disc of candied citrus, brûléed and chilled on the spot. It’s the most sophisticated shooter I’ve seen. “The sugar crisp on the side mellows out all those strong flavors on your palette,” he says.   

As I sip my uniquely smoky-meets-herbaceous mini martini, I’m reminded that you often don’t have to go further than your neighborhood bar to expand your palette and mind. And if your closest drinking den happens to be Bicyclette, go pull up a seat, ask for Edgar, and let him play.

The post Meet the Bartender Shaking Things Up in Naples appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

When he opened Andre’s Steakhouse in 1993, Andre Cottoloni (an alum of Brooklyn’s legacy steakhouse Peter Luger) brought a taste of the New York City chophouse experience to Naples—and not much has changed since. “Andre’s is one of those hidden gems,” says Gulfshore Life community advisory board member and architect David Corban. “It’s not a place that’s buttoned down. You can get loud.”

Within the wood-paneled room with rows of beer steins as the only decor, the focus is decidedly on the beef. Thick-cut, dry-aged, USDA Prime steaks are tossed under the ripping-hot broiler, carved into rosy slices and presented tableside on sizzling platters. (Get the massive porterhouse for two to sample the richly marbled strip and tender filet.) Sliced tomato and onion salad, veal chops, buttery German fried potatoes and crispy shoestring onions—old-school steakhouse standards that have gone out of vogue at trendier restaurants—are still very much the norm here.

To accompany the massive cuts, there’s a Wine Spectator Award of Excellence bottle list. And, if you’re still looking to indulge after a night of carnivorous hedonism, the dessert menu includes five iterations of liquor-spiked coffee drinks, topped with fresh whipped cream. 

The post Inside Andre’s Steakhouse—An Enduring Slice of 1990s Naples appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

Dwayne Bergmann is used to discussing tile and lighting, area rugs and ceiling finishes, and satin versus matte paints. He has dealt with these subjects since opening Dwayne Bergmann Interiors in Fort Myers in 2013.

But, when he’s not poring over fabric samples or picking wood stains, Dwayne has another love: food—and he has strong opinions about the best places to enjoy a meal around Lee County. “The culinary experience here has evolved significantly, especially over the last three to five years,” he says. “When I started coming to Fort Myers 20 years ago, it was quite challenging to find much of anything beyond the typical offerings.”

By “typical,” Dwayne means pizza, pasta, burgers, fried shrimp and lots and lots of chain restaurants. That was the Lee dining scene of the late 1990s and early 2000s. Now, he sees an abundance of options, a diverse range of culinary talent and oh so many wonderful restaurants to which he is eager to return.

While his background is in design, the food is what matters most to Dwayne at restaurants. “There has to be good food—then, service,” he says. “If a restaurant can do both well, then I’ll certainly be back.”

High on Dwayne’s list of local favorites is the tiny but mighty Azure. At this South Fort Myers restaurant, owners Eddy Garces and Lee Riley treat their customers like close friends. Azure’s menu blends classic French fare—coq au vin, escargot, frisée salad—with dashes of Mediterranean spice in the form of paella, marinated olives and a Moroccan-braised leg of lamb that Azure’s kitchen twirls with house-made ribbons of pappardelle.

Another South Fort Myers restaurant layering great food with great service is Osteria Celli. “It is a very underplayed location,” he says of chef Marco Corricelli’s 9-year-old locale, which sits at the end of a Publix-anchored shopping plaza on Summerlin Road. “He has such a loyal following. No matter the day, there’s always a nice hum of people in there.” The branzino and salmon are two of Dwayne’s favorites. “And the pastas, of course, are incredible,” he adds.

For a broader array of seafood dishes, the designer ventures across the Caloosahatchee River to Cape Coral’s Lobster Lady Seafood Market & Bistro, a New England-inspired spot that Dwayne says has the bustling vibe of an Old Florida fish house and “the best lobster we have in this market.”

When his seafood cravings lean raw, Dwayne’s go-to is Maks Asian Kitchen & Sushi on Fiddlesticks Boulevard in South Fort Myers. Here, brothers and veteran sushi chefs Billy and Kevin Mak craft vibrant rolls from perfectly seasoned rice and plate glistening slivers of salmon and hamachi alongside exquisite hunks of otoro—bluefin tuna belly, marbled pink with fat.

While Maks also offers Mongolian tofu and fried rice dotted with shrimp, scallops and pineapple, Dwayne opts for the simplicity of sashimi. “You need fresh, high-quality fish for sashimi to be good, and Maks is the very best,” he says.

[caption id="attachment_68862" align="aligncenter" width="850"] Dwayne’s top pick for sashimi, Maks Asian Kitchen & Sushi in Fort Myers, serves up prime cuts. “You need fresh, high-quality fish for sashimi to be good, and Maks is the very best,” he says. (Photo by Scott McIntyre)[/caption]

For a more casual taste of Asia, Dwayne heads to the nearby Thai Star. Wedged between a smoothie joint and a pizza chain, Thai Star is a restaurant you really have to look for to find. But the search will be worth it, thanks to the velvety curries and a coconut noodle soup Dwayne calls “to die for.”

While all of Dwayne’s picks are tucked into strip malls or plazas, some spots outshine others. Such is the case for Liberty, where cousins and chefs Bob and Richee Boye have turned this 30-seat South Fort Myers space into one of the area’s hottest reservations, with an inventive and ever-changing menu of small, shareable plates.

And then, there is Harold’s, a longtime Dwayne favorite from long-beloved local chef Harold Balink. Dwayne appreciates the chef’s farm-to-table ethos and the simple (yet perfectly executed) dishes that allow quality ingredients to shine. “I think everyone knows it by now, but Harold is just incredible,” Dwayne says. “He’s one of the chefs that really changed the dining scene here for the better.”   

The post Food-Loving Designer Dwayne Bergmann Dishes on His Favorite Lee County Restaurants appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

“But, this is good.”

Mally Khorasantchi punctuates many sentences this way, speaking in her lilting German accent. Noshing on a dulce de leche-stuffed croissant from Bonita Springs’ Wolfmoon bakery, the artist frets playfully about her figure. “But, this is good.” The reflexive phrase signals her contentment and matter-of-fact wisdom. Overlooking the creek behind the Bonita Springs dream home she and her husband built together—the one completed just months after he suddenly passed away—Mally says the house can feel too big for one person. “But, this is good.”

Mally Khorasantchi is not one to dwell on what could be or what might have been. Her life occurs moment-to-moment, her mind fixed on the present, even when her heart wanders into the past. The last two years have been a shifting tide for the painter, but this period of upheaval—stemming from the loss of her husband and the move from Naples to a verdant tract in Bonita Springs—has settled into a contemplative quietude. Mally’s painting jeans tumble in the laundry more often now as she focuses on a new series: The Sun Also Rises, an apparent opus on life, love and a connection to nature influenced by the flora and fauna surrounding her.

“If you overthink things, you never do this. You know?” she says of immigrating to the United States from Germany some 32 years ago. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision to move halfway around the world. The decision seemed rash to some, but at 43, she still felt young and adventurous. Her kids, by then grown, had moved to the United States. The house in Düsseldorf was too big and the weather too dreary. When Mally Khorasantchi and her husband visited their son for parents’ weekend at University of Pennsylvania, the pair allotted a week for a vacation to Southwest Florida. They quickly fell in love with the silky air and the smells and sounds of nature by the Gulf. “Why don’t we do this?” Mally remembers asking her husband. “Why do we live on the other side of the world with this ugly weather and the Germans, who are not so funny?” In a matter of three months, the two closed on a property in Naples’ Bay Colony community.

Mally paints botanicals—big ones—and abstract scenes interspersed with clippings from her favorite French fashion and architecture magazines. One day, while she flips through a publication, she’s inspired by the flourishing hemline of a pink, ruffled petticoat. Mally neatly slices the image from the page and places it into the woven basket she keeps at her side for just such moments—piecemeal parchment flutters in the container. 

The pink fabric’s movement and hue hold meaning, but she hasn’t deciphered it yet—that will take time. First, the artist must remove herself from the work. She’ll read a book, listen to music or sit by the creek and watch the manatees swimming in concert with the easy current. Then, some innocuous word, melody or blooming flower strikes a cord, and the swooping skirt reappears in her mind as a cluster of petals. Soon, this image bleeds into the magenta hues of her 2024 painting The Sun Also Rises VI. There is a narrative behind each of Mally’s paintings. Beneath the billowing petticoat, a bowl of fruit blends into blue, tendril-like leaves; a simple, white bed hides amid the texture of tree bark. In this way, life’s little monotonous moments are framed as part of a natural process—order and chaos in tandem. Everything is as it should be; everything flows along life’s current.

[caption id="attachment_68908" align="aligncenter" width="850"] Mally Khorasantchi’s larger-than-life artwork, which blends painted botanical imagery with collage elements, is a favorite for Gulfshore Life advisory board chair and trustee for Naples Children & Education Foundation Denise Cobb. “I love the colors and themes and especially love the fact that every piece is so unique, but you immediately know it is Mally,” she says. (Photo by by Christina Bankson)[/caption]

Steal Like an Artist, a book by Austin Kleon, further influenced Mally’s collage works. The author frames art as an iterative process and encourages readers to pluck inspiration from the imagery surrounding them; there is greater meaning in the context of individual experience. The Hidden Life of Trees, by German author Peter Wohlleben, forged Mally’s belief in the interconnectedness of life and nature.

The artist is an avid reader and collects fragments of ideas from books. Last year, Mally Khorasantchi and her lifelong best friend took a cruise to Key West and stopped by The Hemingway Home and Museum. She’d visited the site before, but this time, the artist purchased the author’s first novel, The Sun Also Rises. She hoped the book, where characters search for meaning after tragedy, would help her process the grief of losing her husband, Ali.

Reading the novel, Mally noted the telegrams Hemingway’s characters sent between New York and Europe—it made her think of the many messages Ali sent during business travels. Originally from Iran, Ali ran his family’s oriental rug company and would jet to foreign locales to visit manufacturers. He’d send telegrams back to his wife in Germany: “zur muttertag gratuliere iche liebe dich beste schone mutter der wel: dein mann” (‘Happy Mother’s Day, I love you, the most beautiful mother in the world: your husband.’). His messages were short—each word cost five Deutschmark (roughly $2.50 at the time), but with his voice now gone, each word carries more weight. “Today, we have all the words in the world and nobody cares. It’s overflowing. But this was so short,” Mally says. “I took the telegrams and put all the lines into my paintings. This is recycling my love,” Mally Khorasantchi says. These slices of affection reflect on the importance of our words and find their way into each piece from her current series.

Inside her artsy, eclectic home—which mixes Mally’s modern maximalist, antique and coastal sensibilities—stacks of works-in-progress line the hallway leading to her studio. Before construction ended, the artist worked out of the property’s only existing structure, a backyard shanty surrounded by the tangle of native plants and animals that first drew her to the green oasis near Old 41 Road in Downtown Bonita Springs. She would peer out the window, observing the way Spanish moss dripped from the overhead canopy or how seed pods went from fuzzy to rigid as they dried, and pull these small glories into her work. Mally’s massive canvases barely fit into the cottage, leaving little space to step back and adjust her perspective. To get a good look, the 76-year-old painter would drag her work out into the yard over and over again (no small feat after a spinal fusion in 2021) to check the light and refine each detail.

Once a work is complete, Mally releases it to galleries, museums or private buyers without reluctance. This piece of her was meant to be shared, not hidden away. “A painter is like a storyteller or a dancer,” Mally says. “We have to be naked there and present ourselves. And then, we have to wait for somebody to love us. You’re not really in charge after you make something. That’s the end of your story, but then, it takes its own little trip.”

Over the past decade, Mally Khorasantchi has refined and locked into her aesthetic. The vibrant hues of her modern-day work starkly contrast her paintings before moving to America. Dark-toned works have evolved into her current expressive and emotional style, inspired by Southwest Florida’s natural environment.

[caption id="attachment_68909" align="aligncenter" width="850"] Mally’s home reflects her artsy, eclectic style. Modern maximalist, coastal and antique elements blend seamlessly in the comfortable, open-concept living space. Various paintings from throughout the artist’s career adorn the walls, and stacks of works-in-progress line the hallway to her studio. (Photo by Amber Frederiksen)[/caption]

While her early work was more subdued, Mally’s personality never was. She was born shortly after the end of World War II in a culture that she says emphasized self-doubt over her natural boldness. Mally was certain she would be an artist, even when life challenged her dreams. At 9, she won an art contest at Düsseldorf’s annual lantern festival. At 12, she lost her father. Two years went by, and Mally began looking at art schools. Then, her mother was diagnosed with cancer. The artist reluctantly attended business school—the more stable option, impressed by her family—and married a man who was only good on paper. By 28, Mally was divorced and had two children. “Then I met my neighbor, later husband, Ali. He was short and Muslim and everything that my mother prayed against,” she says laughing. “But, we made it nearly 46 years, and it was very good fun. We had a wonderful relationship.” 

During her years with Ali, Mally Khorasantchi studied art and produced two popular exhibitions in Germany. The couple’s arrival in America, though a welcome change of scenery, once again impeded the artist’s work. She could not paint; she needed to work to get a green card, so for eight and a half years, Mally ran a nail salon, where she learned what it meant to be American. The women she worked with were fiercely independent, fearless and unapologetic—qualities that felt authentically ‘Mally’ in a way Germany never did. The couple became American. Then, they became citizens. Then, Mally returned to her canvas.

She opened a studio in the Naples Design District in 2001—the first studio on Shirley Street, now brimming with artists—and found representation locally with Harmon-Meek Gallery. Her work can be seen in the United States, Germany and Russia. The artist served as president of United Arts Collier between 2010 and 2011, planning events and raising money. She still attends events sometimes, but she’s learned to enjoy solitude and visits from friends. The backyard of her Bonita Springs home provides more than enough inspiration for her creative flow. Her little black cat, Mr. Tucker, stalks birds from behind a screened-in pool, and she drinks sparkling wine in the evenings. It is quiet and beautiful and lively and lonely. “But, this is good.”   

The post Revered SWFL Artist Mally Khorasantchi’s New Series Collages Life’s Cycles and Seasons appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

Marcus Jansen looks up in awe. Splashes of fireman yellow reflect in his eyes, pulling dominant hues from the assortment of Purvis Young paintings collaged into murals within the Bob Rauschenberg Gallery at Florida SouthWestern State College in Fort Myers. There is an undeniable kinship between Marcus, a respected painter from New York City’s Bronx borough, and Purvis, the lauded, Miami-bred, self-taught expressionist. Though the two men never met, their artistic agendas mirror one another, so much so that a 2020 exhibit in Fort Lauderdale, Divided We Fall, emphasized the parallels in their practices. Marcus Jansen is the perfect guy to show me around the Purvis Young: Honey in the Sky exhibit, running through July 13.

The exhibit showcases more than 75 original paintings spanning more than 40 years of Purvis’ career. Among the gritty, pastel-tinged works, you’ll see Purvis’ knack for gestural paintings splashed onto pieces of reclaimed wood, canvas, burlap, cardboard and paper, with elements from African folk art and European masters, such as Vincent van Gogh and El Greco. Symbols (wild horses for freedom, cages for oppression, angels for hope and boats for migration) recur throughout the canvases, documenting the cacophony of urban life and strife Purvis saw around him in Miami. Most of the paintings are unnamed, so the viewer is free to draw their own conclusions. “It’s a big part of what good art provides us—something that stimulates your intellectual capacity,” Marcus says. “It makes each individual feel or see something differently because you bring something [of yourself] to the table.”

Marcus discovered the late artist’s work around 2005 through a mutual friend and now owns five of Purvis’ pieces. The two come from different generations and places, but the artists’ work is innately similar. Both explore themes of class, race, humanity and spirituality with vivid colors. Growing up in the inner city informed the Afro-Caribbean artists’ perspectives. Where Marcus’ contemporary depictions of colonial soldiers explore the deeply rooted issues of capitalism, Purvis’ abstract expressionist paintings serve as a lifetime thesis on the Black American experience.

Swells of sorrow, awe, nostalgia and joy roll through Marcus as he traces the visual narrative, which includes images of black, red and yellow figures depicted behind bars; kids’ faces floating in the sky like angels; and Black and white figures dancing in harmony. “I think he had deep human concerns, which is the same in mine—the underlying tone in my work is human concern,” Marcus says. “You’re really looking at his soul when you look at his work.”

Marcus is drawn to a simple pink and yellow landscape framed by what looks to be a fractured piece of wood paneling. Purvis’ use of found materials reminds us of the gallery’s namesake, Robert Rauschenberg, who would also walk around looking for pieces of his environment to incorporate into collages. Inside the thick frame, Purvis connected three strips of canvas to paint a high-rise building with his signature squiggle figures lining the street and roof above—a testament to his raw, innocent style. While the figures may look childlike in technique, each curved body is meticulously painted with one brushstroke.

For inspiration, Purvis looked to issues within his community, as well as global matters past and present. “We were both critiquing and commenting on the system, on an oppressive system for the Black and Brown people in America, which is not overly shown in the visual arts.” 

Purvis lived in the mostly Black, underserved community of Overtown, just south of Miami’s Wynwood area, from his birth in 1943 until he died in 2010. “[Overtown] was a rough area, but he was able to produce something so pure in that environment,” Marcus says. Purvis taught himself to paint and often incorporated found materials, like wood and carpet as frames, fabric as canvas, and leftover paint gifted to him by local firefighters (the source of many of Purvis’ yellow-toned works).

Looking at his paintings, you feel the Miami heat and hear the traffic. It’s as if you’re with him on the street, documenting the strife, celebrating the people and dreaming of a better life. Purvis would use proceeds from his works—which sold for $20 in the ’70s—to help his neighbors. The love for his hometown comes through in every quivering, calligraphic stroke. “That purity is what people are paying attention to,” Marcus says.

While Purvis’ works are now shown in prestigious institutions, from The Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City to the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, D.C., the artist spent much of his life struggling to make ends meet. “[His work] was often labeled as primitive art, outsider art,” Marcus says. “I never saw anything like that; it was always very much insider, very much contemporary art. It’s just a matter of how you label things, right? I never liked these labels anyways.” Marcus revels in the expanded inclusivity that’s emerged since the Black Lives Matter movement in 2020 helped shine a light on artists of color. Inclusion, Marcus explains, is not a matter of reinvention but rather recognition. “That’s exactly what’s been missing, the idea that he’s included [in the world of fine art]. That goes for many Black and Brown painters over the decades—we want to be included. It’s not so much about changing anything, but it’s a matter of saying, ‘Hey, this work has a value stamp on it,’” he says.

Like Purvis, Marcus started his career selling works on street corners in his city, stacking canvases against the buildings in hopes a buyer would bite. Marcus points to the arrangement of Purvis’ works within the Bob Rauschenberg Gallery, cleverly cluttered onto the walls as Purvis would have done on the outside of abandoned buildings throughout Overtown. “This is really inspirational,” Marcus says, stepping closer to the expressive display. “You feel freedom when you’re standing here. He was completely free and direct.”  

The post Fort Myers artist Marcus Jansen guides us through a tour of an iconic expressionist artist appeared first on Gulfshore Life.

Few things awaken us to the need to protect our wild spaces like a stirring work of art. Audubon Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary—which recently launched an artist-in-residence program—is one of those Southwest Florida oases that provides endless inspiration to creatives and budding conservationists.

New York-based textile artist Tamara Kostianovsky found her muse on a morning jaunt through the preserve before her recent Botanical Revolution exhibit at Artis—Naples, The Baker Museum. The Argentinian-bred artist explores consumer culture, violence and environmentalism via stitched sculptures and panels of flora and fauna in various states of decay and rebirth. Working with recycled fabrics—her medium—softens and humanizes everything while speaking to the ecologically taxing fashion industry.

Recent works take the artist deeper into her ecological focus. In Botanical Revolution, birds perch on cushiony, dangling butchered animals (see: Carcass With Egret, inspired by her time in Naples); tree stumps (made from her late father’s wardrobe) depict fleshy tones and arterial ridges; and botanical tapestries brim with wildlife, reflecting the hope for the renewal of exploited regions. Gulfshore Life community advisory board member and Naples restaurateur Ingrid Aielli recalls the show as her favorite of the season. “You feel like you’re in nature even though you’re in the museum,” Ingrid says. She loved Tamara’s Southwest Florida-inspired Morning Walk at Corkscrew Swamp, which emerged from the artist’s visit.

Tamara was about to leave Corkscrew defeated, not having seen any wildlife, when she spotted the alabaster egrets that inspired the piece. “I was mesmerized by the sculptural nature of those beaks—so pointy and twisty,” she says. The brilliant blue comes from the artist’s first day in Naples, sitting outside Kunjani coffee shop. “I looked up, and [the sky] was the most incredible shade of blue—it almost belonged in a Disney movie,” she says.

Part of Tamara’s Fowl Decorations series—which recreates historic French wallpapers that flaunted non-native peacocks and other exotic birds to market in the New World—the piece aims to right historical fallacies. “It’s trying to repopulate French ornamental floral design with native birds in the Americas,” she says.

The triptych diverges slightly from Tamara’s focus on using flesh wounds to talk about cultural norms around violence and excessive consumerism. “It takes more of a zoomed-out look … at colonization as a violent act ecologically speaking—it’s a wound to the land—and how to repair the record,” she says.

Now part of The Baker’s permanent collection, Morning Walk at Corkscrew Swamp is a fitting tribute to the preserve’s 70th anniversary this year. “When you go out on that boardwalk, you get an opportunity to explore this cypress forest, spend time with the wildlife and experience what Florida was once like,” Corkscrew director Keith Laakkonen says. You may even find a little creative inspiration of your own. 

The post This New Textile Triptych at The Baker Museum pays tribute to Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary appeared first on Gulfshore Life.