Richard Boprae, right, along with noted photographer Iran Issa Khan, attends a design event at West Elm in Midtown Miami.

This column follows up a May 17 article by Alfredo Triff and Michelle Weinberg (“Art! Boom! Bust!”) on the current state of affordable housing for artists (or lack thereof) by going straight to the source and interviewing several artists in their Wynwood Art District studios.

The Miami development and PR machine waved its magic wand over Wynwood as soon as a whiff of artist activity was detected, and seized the opportunity to blitz the consciousness with a highly visible campaign touting a vibrant artist community.

Then, the smoke cleared, the condo market went south and the land grab was over and done before the artists even woke up.

A lot of local art world personalities are asking, “What happened to the Miami art scene?” In the lives of other cities, a scene rises out of an actual neighborhood that attracts artists because of its affordable live/work space. People actually live close to one another, have beers together, work in concert, open cafes and clubs, and grow services to make the community thrive. In the case of Miami, a central location hasn’t really materialized, even though Wynwood houses most of the contemporary art galleries and some affordable work spaces.

The area superficially resembles art districts in other cities insofar as it occupies an industrial zone. But this search for a scene like those in other cities may be fruitless, like the search for life on Mars. Prospectors return from that other planet reporting confidently there is no life there, because it doesn’t look like the Earth life they know. Maybe the scene of Miami is about individuals working in isolation, and driving occasionally to evening openings (with liquor sponsorship as an extra incentive) to reassure themselves that they are not alone? Maybe the art scene in Miami has a rhythm all its own, moving in fits and starts or circles, with sporadic bursts of marketing fanfare like fireworks, private lunches and cliquish get-togethers. Maybe it’s a big mistake to obsess over the lack of an art scene like they make ’em up North, or anywhere else. Miami has always been about creating a private paradise and launching far-fetched (or visionary) entrepreneurial maneuvers in communication with select, like-minded compatriots. The bright side is there are no fashion police, no culture mafia, no glass ceiling. And why fuss about legislating a scene when one is organically taking its first baby steps? Let it grow in its own wayward manner.

If each artist practitioner focuses on turning out quality product, it may just take care of itself.

Adler Guerrier’s studio is in a hospitable building that houses a gallery, some other artist studios and several small manufacturing offices. He points out that gentrification doesn’t really apply in the Wynwood Art District, as no people were living there to begin with. He mentions that the boundaries of the area are a bit fuzzy and describes the district as “a cartoon, a weird sci-fi thing here.” He mourns the absence of practical living spaces in Miami, which, for him, would mean comfortable living for himself and his wife, both artists, and their young daughter. Practical living might ideally include proximity to other artists, which Guerrier describes as “indispensable.”

To surmount the isolation built into a city like Miami, he and Kathleen, an artist and publisher of the popular art blog www.thelastfewhours.com, have discussed one-night events or interventions in which artists could participate. As a DASH and New World School of the Arts graduate, Guerrier reminisced that the Design District was a remarkable thing in his imagination as a student, but that the “loft dream” thing was never really that important to him.

A few blocks away, artist Alejandro Vigilante was positively buoyant at acquiring his new studio, a cozy, well-lit and air-conditioned bunker. A self-styled “serial Miamian,” Vigilante, originally from Argentina, has given the Magic City a second chance, after a tenure in New York. Of the neighborhood, Vigilante is passionate. “I feel special flavors from the industrial buildings. It’s mysterious. There are many surprising entities here. A shadow of a homeless person appearing on the street next to you has excitement and danger, like you are underground. And then a fashion model appears. Where did she come from?” Vigilante has become enamored of the Internet, creating new works generated by e-mails, scrambled and reconfigured digitally. He agrees with Guerrier that “To be an artist is a lonely job,” and if the vibe is good with other artists in one’s building, that is most desirable. He finds more opportunity in Miami than in New York, not to mention an affordable studio.

One artist, Richard Boprae, seemed unconcerned with the Wynwood Art District’s rise, fall or otherwise, despite the fact he was the poster boy for the Cynergi “artist lofts,” a condo under construction at 27th Street and North Miami Avenue. His likeness was splashed on billboards and promotional materials during that fire-hot moment when real estate was the party engine in town. Boprae, originally from Montreal, arrived in Miami eight years ago and is about to pull out of town and head to Denver, Colo., where he is buying a building, a 7,000-square-foot dream studio in a former synagogue.

Previously a model, Boprae is leaving his imprint on this town. Aside from a lobby installation for Cynergi, his sculptural interior installations are featured prominently at Miami mega restaurant Karu & Y. He recently returned from a successful debut at the International Contemporary Furniture Fair in New York. During his time in Miami, Boprae honed his craft, and is now “ready to take it on the road.” A Wynwood resident for four years, Boprae says Miami was pivotal in his career, affording him the space and contacts that nurtured his business. He never really concerned himself with the burgeoning Wynwood community, preferring to focus inwardly to develop his creative vision. As for Wynwood’s future, he projected: “Unless they pump a lot of money into it and plant a lot of trees, it’s still gonna be scary here.” A true pioneer of the neighborhood, Boprae described it aptly as “capsules of dreams.”

These artists graciously submitted to a completely unscientific survey. Next, can we hear from some girl artists, please?

Michelle Weinberg is an artist and writer in Miami Beach and New York. Find her online at www.michelleweinberg.com.