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Across four days in October, roughly 800 feet off the coast of Miami’s South Beach, 22 cars were lowered from a barge and submerged underwater. Far from an ecological disaster, these cars — made of a marine-grade, pH-neutral, low-emission concrete blend — are a permanent art installation resembling a traffic jam by Argentine artist Leandro Erlich. The surfaces of the cars are equipped with specialised technology for coral regrowth. “Concrete Coral” is part of an ambitious underwater sculpture park called Reefline, which when complete some 10 years from now, will feature additional art installations, a marine learning and visitor centre and eventually span seven miles.
The idea for Reefline began in 2019 when artist and curator Ximena Caminos was thinking of ways to make public art more meaningful. Originally from Buenos Aires, Caminos had been living in Miami for several years, working with the local government on projects like The Underline, a public urban trail with an art programme. “I asked myself, am I doing enough?” she says.


Speaking with marine biologist Colin Foord, Caminos learned that there had once been coral reefs thriving off the coast of Miami Beach. “Up until about 50 years ago, the ocean was coming up to Ocean Drive and you could snorkel right off the beach,” Foord says. “Then in the 1970s, the city dumped sand in the water to create the beach and smothered the reef.”
The conceptual leap from coral reefs to underwater art was inspired by another of Foord’s Miami facts. “Colin told me that in 2000, someone sunk a concrete Jose Cuervo bar off the beach,” Caminos recalls. The bar is now home to coral and fish. “It became our proof of concept,” she says. With Foord on her team as director of science, Caminos enlisted Shohei Shigematsu of the architecture firm OMA to create a masterplan. To fund the endeavour, Reefline needs to raise $40mn. So far, it has received private donations, funding from the Knight Foundation and a $5mn bond from the City of Miami Beach.
Coral reefs provide protection against flooding and coastal erosion, and are crucial to maintain fish populations. But they face significant threats, including bleaching, in which corals expel algae as a result of an external stressor like changes in temperature or light. When this occurs, the corals turn white and can die. “There are other factors like pollution, but when all is said and done, climate change is the primary danger to coral reefs worldwide because it kills the corals themselves,” says Richard Aronson, head of Florida Tech’s department of ocean engineering and marine sciences.
Regrowing coral reefs is difficult, costly (estimates range from thousands to many millions of dollars per hectare depending on the complexity) and can include risks like introducing diseases or invasive species. Moreover, the new corals might not even survive.


For its process, Reefline’s scientists are trimming small, native coral fragments from resilient strains that survived a 2023 bleaching incident and nurturing them in its Miami Native Coral Lab. The samples grow for four to six months on Coral Loks, a tool that allows them to essentially screw the corals into the surface of the concrete sculptures, helping the samples to withstand currents and storms. The goal is to plant one million throughout the seven-mile park.
Reefline expects to begin planting in the coming months. Over time, Erlich’s installation will hopefully become covered in corals and “lose its original appearance as it fulfils its purpose”, the artist says.

While the ecological mission is admirable, experts are careful to put coral regrowth into perspective. “To some extent, I think this is ‘feel-good’ stuff,” Aronson tells me. “Without controlling carbon emissions, this is going to come to naught. Because even if we can get corals that are resistant to heat, even if we can successfully outplant them from nurseries, it’ll be a temporary fix unless we control global temperatures.”
Still, such regrowth projects can serve as valuable case studies. “People call Miami Beach ‘ground zero’ for climate change, but we like to consider ourselves a living laboratory,” says Lindsey Precht, assistant director of environment and sustainability for the City of Miami Beach. “Even imperfect coral interventions teach us what to do better next time. Each project leaves behind more than just coral. It leaves behind data, insight, and momentum.”
Caminos acknowledges Reefline is “not saving the world”. But, she adds, “it’s important to understand the impact beyond marine life or eco-tourism. It’s also about awakening people to the problem. It’s seven miles of hope.”
thereefline.org
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