My eyes trace the extraordinary ivory cascade of antique Mexican wedding dresses stitched together to form a sort of matrimonial spider web. It’s one of the first works guests encounter at Casa Malca, a boutique resort on the Caribbean coastline of Mexico’s Riviera Maya.
Over 80 gowns make up these towering mirrored sets of “dress curtains”. Trains on the bottom row pool on either side of a striking tree bark-lined complex, each fluffed into crescents over an autumnal-hued rug that staff roll out fresh each morning and pack away each evening during Tulum’s rainy season from June to October.
My gaze wanders up to the highest tier, at nearly three storeys high. No two dresses are the same. The exquisite details suddenly sharpen into focus – the unique beading, lacy embellishments and lustrous satins in spectrums of white. Between them are lounge chairs suspended from rust-cloaked chains, a dusty pink Victorian-style sofa, and twin faded terracotta-hued armchairs. They’re not just for display; you can take a seat.
The curtained installation, which theatrically frames the compound, was commissioned specifically for the property, which, in a former life, was owned by one of history’s most infamous cartel figures, Pablo Escobar.
Did I forget to mention that?
The resort’s admittedly fascinating narco-connection barely registers, so enraptured am I with the display. The artwork is like something out of a surrealist dream, I think, while taking another sip of the champagne ferried to me moments ago at reception.
It’s only the following day, on one of Casa Malca’s afternoon art tours, that I learn the installation did, in fact, originate from a dream – the hotel’s owner, prominent New York-based art collector and gallerist Lio Malca, supposedly dreamt about the web of dresses. Upon waking, he thought, what a wonderful way to welcome guests, eventually turning his whimsical vision into a reality.
It’s astonishing the measures taken to preserve the monumental outdoor display, exposed to the full spectrum of tropical extremes: sometimes-cyclonic winds, intense rain, sun, salty air and near-constant damp. Staff tenaciously attend to stains and signs of mildew. Every six years the entire work is disassembled and removed offsite for deep cleaning, we’re told (the expense and logistics of this feat alone boggles the mind).
Much has been made of the resort’s history as a beach retreat for the world’s most notorious drug kingpin – the same whose life story forms the basis for the Netflix series Narcos. Details about the property’s bulletproof walls have been grossly overstated by TikTokers (and staff may suppress eye rolls if you enquire about it); in any case, it’s hardly the most interesting thing about Casa Malca.
The hotel is also home to Head of a Madman beach club, named for the artwork by American Neo-expressionist Jean-Michel Basquiat. Non-hotel guests can reserve a spot at the namesake restaurant and tuck into wood-fired pizza with the sand between their toes or snag a day pass to use the pools and uncover its most Instagrammed spots.
Chief among them is the lair-like subterranean grotto hidden beneath the resort’s main outdoor pool, accessible by a discrete set of stairs and a water wall (when we visit, the underground pool flickers with colourful atmospheric lighting that feels more rave than grotto).
Twilight art tours on Fridays and Saturdays introduce visitors to the myriad oversized sculptures along the beach, in the lobby, bar and tucked between buildings and vegetation. There’s a playfulness and sense of scale to Malca’s collection, many of which hail from some of the world’s most revered contemporary artists, from Fabien Verschaere and Keith Haring to Brian Donnelly (known professionally as Kaws).
A squiggly, glossy red sculpture, Scary Guy (Red), by American artist Kenny Scharf, cuts a bold and cartoonish figure over the pool. It’s only when you view it at a certain angle that a ghoulish face with sloping, furious eyes and jagged white teeth emerges.
At the beach end of the pool, a leafy canopy constructed into the shape of a camera lens frames the ocean, but you’ll have to wait your turn to stroll through – the passage is in constant flux as a backdrop for phone-snapping visitors and marriage proposals.
Before the tour concludes, our group of eight gathers in Haring Bar, itself an art installation. Pop artist Keith Haring created The Pop Shop in New York in 1986 as a place to sell graphic T-shirts and articles featuring his works, and that of his contemporaries. In 1987, Haring took the concept to Japan to create Pop Shop Tokyo, transforming two 40-foot containers and hand-painting the wooden panel interiors. Like in New York, it was a space for sharing art and making it accessible to all. The containers disappeared for a long time, their whereabouts unknown, until Lio Malca located them, and they joined his collection in 2004.
Even if you’re unfamiliar with the name, Haring’s style is unmistakable – a frenetic repetition of stylised shapes or figures deeply influenced by America’s graffiti subculture of the 1980s. In Haring Bar, the artist’s original hand-painted black-and-white walls sit in opposition to a lounge area heaving with antique chandeliers and sumptuous purple velvet curtains – giant framed photographs of Mexico’s mysterious Olmec stone heads, said to date back to 1200 BCE to 400 BCE, watch over the opulence in quiet judgment. We finish our cocktails on the rooftop, with 360-degree views of the beach and jungle.
The ashen compound is a perfect minimalist canvas for Malca’s exuberant taste. We pass yet another room of art and curiosities on the way up to our suite – a loft tucked above the lobby featuring two patina-hued vintage dentist chairs next to an ornate floral lounge set. Overhead, mounted to the wall, is a mechanical-looking ant fashioned from two faux-scorched human skulls – like something out of a Mad Max film. Like the beach sculptures, which are eroding gradually in the elements, the room’s contents are in various states of decay: frayed and rusted, coaxed on by the briny sea air. It makes for a hauntingly beautiful vignette.
Our suite is one of just 71 uniquely styled accommodations. The space opens to a huge, lush balcony terrace with a daybed overlooking the beach; inside, rough-hewn concrete ceilings and vivid contemporary works pair purposefully with vintage furnishings, sumptuous velvet curtains and Persian rugs.
We pin down one piece as the handiwork of How and Nosm, the art duo (and identical twin brothers) Raoul and Davide Perré from Spain, known for their distinct large-scale street murals. It’s a maze of swirling spirograph-like patterns in gradient pinks and greys, rippling around a crush of black-and-white objects and figures too intricate and surreal to decipher. I’m obsessed.
The term “art hotel” gets bandied about by marketers. But Casa Malca isn’t trying to be an art hotel. There’s none of the usual clashing wallpaper prints or in-room record players. Rather, its owner’s genuine lifelong passion for modern art and beautiful objects seems to organically steer the aesthetic. What results is a five-star hotel that is foremost a cutting-edge modern art museum. It’s what every self-styled art hotel wishes it could be.
The details
Stay
From $880 ($US571) a night. Casa Malca, KM 9.5, Carr. Tulum-Boca Paila, 77780 Tulum. Phone: +52 984 980 0679. See casamalca.com
Eat
Casa Malca has three onsite restaurants, including casual all-day diner Philosophy, contemporary Asian diner Ambrosia, and wood-oven grill Head of a Madman. For reservations, see casamalca.com/restaurants
Do
Casa Malca runs free art tours at the property every Friday and Saturday at 6pm. Tours conclude with cocktails in Haring Bar.
The writer stayed as a guest of Casa Malca.