There are times when talking to strangers—and subsequently following them to a remote location—is actually a good idea.
In 2006, then-20-year-old Beatriz Chachamovits’ love affair with the ocean and all its mesmerizing inhabitants was in its infancy. An art student in landlocked São Paulo at the time, Chachamovits was vacationing on Brazil’s Boipeba island, sketching the seaweed and algae, when a man about 20 years her senior approached and looked at her drawings. He said, “I want to show you something,” and then left, returning with snorkels and masks.
“Sometimes your gut tells you to trust,” says Chachamovits, who now resides in Miami’s Little River neighborhood. She followed him into the ocean and the two descended to a tiny cave covered in exquisite corals. Little silver fish darted about, a spotted ray swam by, sunlight filtered in from above. “I thought, ‘Oh my God, our planet is magical.’”
When she emerged, she knew she’d found both her muse and her calling. “I had the fog of an understanding that there was an ecosystem down there, but I’d never seen it,” she says. As for the man, she never saw him again. “I don’t know his name, but the dude changed my life in so many ways.”
Today, Chachamovits is a lauded environmental artist and educator, whose ceramic sculptures of corals and ocean environments transfix and, she hopes, transform. Her pieces (which Vogue has described as “breathtaking” and “mesmerizing”) seek to evoke wonder, while compelling people to care about an imperiled ecosystem they might not ever see in person.
“Coral is a fixer for all of these problems,” she says, noting most immediately its ability to protect coastlines. “We will never understand we are nature and that we belong to nature.”
Chachamovits’ earlier works sought to highlight the phenomenon of coral bleaching, depicting deathly white invertebrates, plastic debris embedded among them. “For the longest time, I would create installations that talk about their demise,” she says. “Eco-anxiety started to really mess me up.”
She has since chosen a more uplifting message, adding vibrant colors to her works. This isn’t to sugarcoat the dire future of coral reefs—which support 25 percent of all marine life and face threats from warming oceans, pollution, and human interference—but rather to showcase some positive news about them. One example: a 2021 marine science paper highlighting the survival of brain corals at the Port of Miami.
“I see resilience in coral reefs,” says Chachamovits. “There’s always something to be hopeful for.” That’s the message she imparts in her popular workshops, which allow people of all ages to sculpt corals out of clay—and perhaps learn to care about the real thing.
It’s just one more way life in Miami, her home for six years, has surpassed her expectations. “I adore this city. In São Paulo people thought I was ‘the crazy coral girl,’ but this city held space for me in such a phenomenal way.”
She has no plans to leave, but she would like to see her work travel beyond South Florida. “The plight of coral reefs doesn’t just concern people on the coast. The whole world is dealing with it.”
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