A Spanish ship emerges from the sands on Miami Beach for Art Week. Here’s how to find it
By Amanda Rosa
December 3, 2024
White sails flutter in the wind on Miami Beach. The towering mast juts from the sand as if the rest of the wrecked 15th century ship is buried underneath. Unlike its historical predecessors, this “ship” doesn’t bring colonizers. It brings a message spray painted on the sails: “What are we going to give up to burn the sails of empire? What are we going to build for our collective liberation?”
The unfurling of the sails was one of several installations and events that kicked of Miami Art Week, seven days of exhibitions, parties, art fairs and, of course, Art Basel Miami Beach. The artwork, which is part of nonprofit Faena Art’s programming for this week, is by Nicholas Galanin, a renowned cross-disciplinary Alaska-based artist of Tlingit and Unangax̂ descent whose work often explores issues that impact indigenous communities. An internationally recognized artist, Galanin’s work is featured in permanent collections of several institutions including the Museum of Modern Art and Whitney Museum of American Art in New York City, Princeton University, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Art Institute of Chicago and The National Gallery of Canada. Faena Art is known for installing massive, eye-catching spectacles on the beach during Miami Art Week. Last year, there was the viral football field-sized maze by Chilean artist Sebastian Errazuriz. “By bringing these groundbreaking artists to Miami Beach, we not only honor their innovative practices, but also provide a transformative space for immersive experiences that engage local and global audiences,” Faena developer and hotelier said Alan Faena in a statement. Galanin’s work often critiques the spaces they are displayed in. At the 2020 Biennale of Sydney, Galanin dug a grave for a monument of colonizer James Cook, the 18th-century British Royal Navy captain who arrived in what is now Australia.
In 2021 in California, Galanin erected 45-foot tall letters that spelled out “INDIAN LAND,” referencing the famous Hollywood sign. In Miami Beach, “Seletega” is no different. “I’ve done work called land art in the past in various forms and this is in line with a lot of my practice in general,” he told the Miami Herald. “Speaking towards indigenous language, indigenous place, things like capitalism and colonization.” The artwork, made to look like a Spanish galleon’s masts, sails, and rigging, rises over 45 feet above the sand. Just behind it, picturesque waves crash on the shore. Seagulls squawk and fly between the sails. The metal pieces of the rigging clang in the wind and ring like a bell.
The artwork mimics the sails Native Americans saw in the distance centuries ago. The name of the work is a word from the Calusa, a Native American tribe from southwest Florida. Seletega roughly translates to “run, see if people are coming.” The Calusa language is thought to be closely related to the language of the Tequesta, the people indigenous to what is now Miami. The Tequesta language was not recorded. Rode Napoles and Carlos Ramos view “Seletega” a 90-foot-long sculpture of a wrecked Spanish galleon, partially buried in the sand by artist Nicholas Galanin on the sands by the Faena Hotel in Miami Beach. Lex Foderé Lex Foderé for The Miami Herald “Many things came with [the ships]. Genocide of indigenous communities, removal of our language, extraction of our land and resources. It all started with the sight of these sails,” Galanin said. “There’s oral history of seeing these sails in our communities.” Written in English and Spanish, two of the first European languages to colonize the Americas, are two questions Galanin spray painted onto the sails. “What are we going to give up to burn the sails of empire? Qué vamos a renunciar para quemar las velas y los aparejos del imperio? What are we going to build for our collective liberation? Qué vamos a construir para nuestra liberación colectiva?” The work’s messaging references a particularly brazen moment in history.
In 1519, conquistador Hernan Cortes ordered his men to scuttle, or deliberately sink, the ships to avoid a mutiny and “motivate” them to keep marching to the Aztec empire, what is now Mexico. Cortes is often attributed to the Spanish saying “quemar las naves,” which essentially means “there’s no turning back.” Galanin said he hopes people who see the work reflect on “what our contributions can be toward collective liberation.” “The no turning back for humanity for certain things. The way we care for place, environment, water, climate conversations, I feel like that’s embedded in this work. Humanity and collective liberation is embedded in this work,” Galanin said. “When we think about the violence around the world and communities that are facing that through imperial powers that are funding and perpetuating it, I think this work includes that conversation, too.” The artwork was a pleasant surprise for friends Gabriela Sanchez and Marissa Lopez as they walked on the beach in the afternoon. The two came to the beach to see “The Great Elephant Migration,” a viral art installation also on the sand. They kept walking a couple blocks south and ran into “Seletega.” “We were like, ‘Is that a pirate ship?’” Sanchez said. Without reading the sign next to the work that explains who the artist is and its meaning, Sanchez and Lopez said they were struck by its message. “It was pretty powerful,” Sanchez said. “Just the idea of collective liberation, it’s so broad it can mean anything to anyone.” “It’s liberation from the ego. Liberation from our thoughts, our emotions, from war, from hatred,” Lopez added. The two were happy to see a prominent artwork discussing indigeneity during Miami Art Week, especially since so many indigenous cultures have been oppressed and erased throughout history, Sanchez said. “They were here before us,” Lopez said. “They have wisdom to share to all of us.”