Benicio Niels

Painter. Culinary visionary. Sensualist. Founder-in-progress of a scuola di cucina & vineyard. Street artist turned patron of flavor, memory and slow kisses. Father. Lover. Gentle force.

Born between Copperdale’s trattoria kitchens and Windenburg’s Mansarden, Benicio grew up with garlic smoke in his hair and sunlight on his canvases. Mentored by his legendary uncle Plutarco, he once tagged trains with borrowed saints, denim sleeves rolled, fire in his chest. Feeding people, through recipes, brushstrokes, or words, taught him that generosity is ritual and art is never revenge: it is return.

He throws open the world for Leandro Niels-Carter, Leoncino, born in a Tartosian boat under a lightning storm. Breakfasts spill laughter onto the floor, afternoons chase sunlight in parks, evenings read poetry until voices tumble into night. Benicio wants Leoncino to taste every color, feel every flavor, know that love is loud, boundless and unafraid. Nyla, his emotional support dog and his circle of chosen friends move alongside, each gesture naturally radiant, a chorus to the joy he hopes his son carries like a mantle.

Hyacinthe “Cyn” Carter, his ex-wife, remains an elusive icon and public force. Their love ended in recognition: some mirrors only reflect. Their bond endures as covenant, shaping Benicio into a man who gives presence and pleasure freely, unafraid of tenderness, unafraid of fracture. He moves through life in loose sleeves, oil-stained cuffs, mornings in quiet, nights with wine and unfinished poems. He doesn’t seek perfection, he seeks poetry. He lets the wine introduce him, the food whisper your name, and every gesture becomes an act of love: messy, radiant, human. Also, he might be the reason your wife is reading poetry again.