An Allapattah arts space has closed. In pricey Miami, it’s a cautionary tale
In a corner of Allapattah, a colorful building with “Black Lives Matter” painted on its roof was a hub for cultural events and programming for nearly a decade. With no outside funding, Fabian Martinez ran Esquina de Abuela — “Grandma’s Corner” — at a property his Cuban grandmother bought in the 1980s after she arrived in Miami.
Over the years, Esquina became a center for community and underground art events. Visual artists from around the world graffitied the property and transformed the site into a living, breathing gallery. Rappers Future, Rick Ross and Kodak Black shot music videos there. But the business’s financial woes persisted in the background.
In March, Martinez was evicted from the site following years of legal battles, during which he struggled and ultimately failed to pay down loans on the property.
Martinez considers Esquina de Abuela’s eviction a cautionary tale for other creatives about the difficulties that can arise when running a mission-driven business in a highly expensive real estate market like Miami. As property values have surged and millionaires and billionaires have moved in, informal community centers and gathering places like the Center for Subtropical Affairs and Wood Tavern have closed.
“Esquina was difficult because it wasn’t just about running the business,” said Martinez, 49. “I was doing that [while still] doing community work and helping people.”
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Martinez saw his work as a continuation of his grandmother’s 30 years of work in their community and, like any entrepreneur, only wanted to thrive.
His grandmother, Zoila Caridad Guerra, had moved to Miami in the early ‘80s from Venezuela. To earn money, she sold flowers, tomatoes and melons.
In 1985, Guerra purchased the Allapattah property for $67,000. She obtained a license to sell secondhand products like used furniture and started a business that endured for 30 years. Allapattah neighbors quickly nicknamed her “La Capitana” (Spanish for “The Captain”) for her serious approach to business and community service.
“It was the Cuban ‘Sanford and Son,’” Martinez said.
When Guerra broke her hip in 2015, Martinez moved in to help his grandmother and eventually took over ownership of the property. After assessing the work that needed to be done to renovate the property and pay back taxes that amounted to just over $200,000, he received a loan in 2016 for $400,000.
The only condition for Martinez to receive the loan was for him to establish an LLC, and he launched Esquina de Abuela that same year.
After getting the loan, Martinez began cleaning the property up during the day and would spend his nights at Wynwood’s now-defunct Wood Tavern. He met artists from around the world and began letting them paint Esquina de Abuela. With the artists needing somewhere to stay, he also began renting out the property, creating an additional stream of revenue.
“By April 2018, I started doing Airbnb and had 240 RSVPs in nine months,” he said. “I told people we were building a cultural center and that every payment for a room was building toward that.”
But the pandemic’s effects on Martinez and his business were swift and crushing. He estimates that he lost 97% of his income, and he went from making $10,000 a month to about $500.
“Now my loan is in default because I couldn’t refinance or pay for water and electricity,” he said. “Everything started catapulting.”
With much of the world in lockdown, Esquina had an added appeal to rappers like Future and Rick Ross, who needed attractive film sets for videos and photo shoots. Martinez was able to charge between $3,000 and $4,000 for each shoot.
“Even with all the issues, I just brought Future to Allapattah,” he said. “By December of that same year, I had Rick Ross and Gunplay.”
Kodak Black eventually shot three videos at the cultural center. The video that reggaeton artist Anuel AA filmed at Esquina has received 116 million views on YouTube.
But for all of the center’s popularity, its new business opportunities had come a little too late for Martinez, who had been fighting a foreclosure action since 2019 after failing to find the money to pay back the loan.
Martinez said that multiple lenders offered to help fund Esquina de Abuela but wanted him to remove the “Black Lives Matter” phrase from its roof. He sharply declined each time.
“Being a lightskinned Cuban, I stand with my [Black] grandmother’s integrity,” he said.
Martinez said a developer reached out to him with a loan but charged 18% interest. The loan only ended up putting Martinez in a deeper financial hole, and he lost the financial equity he had built as the property owner.
“Last year, another developer offered me $2 million for Esquina,” he said. “I turned it down.”
By 2024, Martinez had declared bankruptcy four times to save the property, but it didn’t work out in his favor. The property that housed Esquina de Abuela eventually sold for a little over $1 million.
Kevin Cox, a Florida Atlantic University business professor who has worked with community-minded entrepreneurs, said he sees similar situations play out “a lot.”
“It’s particularly challenging when family is involved or things that are passion- or mission-driven. You really care about bringing something to life or having something important in the community, but you can’t allow that to supersede the financial viability,” he said.
Cox said that entrepreneurs who have a focus on community improvement need to have a realistic and well thought-out business model.
“I like social entrepreneurship and impact entrepreneurship,” he said. “[You’re] not necessarily structuring something as a nonprofit but building sustained revenue-building year to year.”
Even after being evicted, Martinez said he has never regretted turning down offers for his property. To quote his late friend and Miami activist Daniel “Danny Basquiat” Agnew, Martinez wanted to put “people over profits.” Selling Esquina would’ve only embittered Martinez, he said.
“If I would’ve sold Esquina last year for $1 million, I’d be unhappy,” he said. “In a weird way, God put me in this predicament to help me continue to fight for Miami.”
Despite losing the property, Martinez still sees it as his mission to support people from underserved communities like Allapattah. He continues to work as a tour guide and event curator and maintains that Esquina de Abuela is about more than a physical location.
“Esquina is not a location, but a movement,” he said. “Knowing that, we’re not going to stop fighting for it.”
As Martinez reflects on Esquina de Abuela, he recommends that other creatives hoping to launch cultural hubs connect with others and build community. While dealing with the business’ financial challenges, he was mainly focused on improving his own situation and believes he missed out on connecting with people who could’ve helped him or shared resources.
“Sometimes we get caught up with our mission and could connect more [with others],” he said. “It’s important for us to connect with others because that’s how you get a chance to learn and learn from other people’s mistakes.”
This story was originally published May 5, 2025 at 5:00 AM.
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