WEST TOWN — Tala Chicago, a new contemporary art gallery inspired by Philippine mythology, is quickly making a name for itself on Chicago Avenue and will premiere its latest exhibit Friday.
The exhibit, “Blinked Twice,” is Tala’s third since opening April 12. It spotlights Los Angeles-based Chicanx artist Vani Aguilar and focuses on “transformation and remembrance in the contemporary rapidly changing urban landscape” — be that Los Angeles or Chicago.
Aguilar’s art pieces “draw upon friends, front lawns, construction sites and dogs at play to remember and reimagine moments of vitality, celebration and brilliance — blink twice and you’ll miss it,” according to Tala’s description of the exhibit.
Aguilar’s work is made of various mediums, from airbrushed acrylic to colored pencil drawings. This is Aguilar’s first solo exhibition in Chicago.
The opening reception is 7-10 p.m. Friday at Tala Chicago, 1644 W. Chicago Ave., with DJ Jenny Fox playing a live set. The exhibit runs through Oct. 6.
For each of Tala’s three exhibits, owner Francine Almeda has platformed artists from Chicago and around the world, as far as Berlin and Paris.
Tala’s inaugural exhibit, which closed June 20, featured a dozen artists, including locals Kiam Marcelo Junio, Knowlden, Farah Salem, Roland Santana, Corrine Slade, Kushala Vora and Jasmine Huaimin Yeh.
And while Tala’s exhibits include a variety of artists, pieces and mediums that can seem vastly different — from writing and sculptures to paintings and even fragrances — they’re always tied together through underlying themes, Almeda said.
“I’m big on confluence right now, so things that otherwise seem different coming together,” Almeda told Block Club about a month after opening Tala.
That rings true not only for the exhibits but for the entire gallery, which is inspired by pre-colonial Philippine mythology, Almeda said.
Almeda, who is Filipino, named her gallery Tala for the Tagalog word meaning “bright star.” In Tagalog mythology, Tala is the name of the goddess of the morning and evening star, Almeda said.
“Her journey is one of making constellations and moving from morning to night with these orbs of light, so that those who are lost at sea can follow them,” Almeda said. “I heard about this mythology a year ago [when] I actually signed the lease to the space.”
Tala Chicago’s layout mirrors this lore: The gallery is comprised of three rooms that thematically fade from day to night as visitors walk through.
First, at the entrance, there’s Tala’s sunny “atrium marketplace.” There, Tala sells items made by Chicago-based and -bred creatives. Product prices range from $10-$600, Almeda said.
It’s an “homage to Tala’s morning beginnings” and where visitors are welcomed into the gallery.
Beside the marketplace shelves lined with goods, there are cushioned benches with outlets and mini tables so guests can sit down and hang out.
Next is a traditional gallery space, where Almeda curates the main exhibits, like Aguilar’s. It’s bright, white and open.
Beside it sits Almeda’s sky-blue office, where she spends most of her time. It has a cutout in one wall so it feels integrated into the space.
Finally, there’s Tala’s library and listening room, a deep purple section of the gallery that houses arts and culture books handpicked by Almeda. This includes Chuquimarca’s art library and art resources that focus on the Global South, Indigenous perspectives and other diasporas.
There are books on Philippine studies, Black feminism, land cultivation and stewardship, art writing, nightclub architecture and musicology, zines and beyond.
The room also has a hi-fi speaker system and stadium-style bench seats with mohair cushions.
Tucked below the bookshelves, there’s a non-alcoholic drink fridge curated by Monday Coffee, a Black-owned, Chicago-based roasted coffee company. It carries coffee, sparkling water, kombucha and more.
Almeda thinks of Tala as more than a traditional art gallery — it’s a journey, she said. It’s also a third space where people can see art, shop, read or just hang out, making contemporary art more accessible and inviting.
“From this very first area [the atrium marketplace], it’s metaphorically and physically breaking down barriers,” Almeda said. “Not only can people of all interests find something that they enjoy here, but artists can participate in a way that a typical commercial gallery might exclude them from.”
Almeda, who studied philosophy in college and originally planned to go to medical school, said she’s always been interested in figures like the goddess Tala “who provide guidance and safety to others.” She wanted that represented throughout the gallery — even in the logo, which is a gold star.
“There’s the star quality that keeps coming through,” Almeda said. “I wanted to translate that mythology into a spatial experience that is still centering contemporary art and understanding its context on this street, which is the gallery district of Chicago.
“Now, there’s like eight galleries alone on Chicago Avenue. So what does it mean to have a space that is also so centrally located in the heart of what is contemporary art now, and just kind of doing things that really can provide needs [for the community]?”
Almeda sees Tala as another form of healing beyond traditional medicine, which wasn’t the right fit for her as a career.
“I think that in relation to art, it’s a very special contrast that is not often done enough,” Almeda said. “Because art really is such a saving field, or cultural sector. I think that art really saved me.”
After going to college in Austin, Texas, Almeda moved back to her native Chicago, where she worked at the Museum of Contemporary Art and later Wicker Park’s Heaven Gallery. There, she learned about working in the arts, arts administration and how to be a manager, she said.
The neighborhood and Chicago art community have welcomed Almeda and the gallery with open arms, she said. Tala’s opening night drew over 600 attendees and “spilled into the street.”
“The reception from people that I don’t know and people within my community has been so inspiring,” she said. “This desire that I discussed … for alternative spaces, for gathering spaces, has been totally mirrored back to me, where people are like, ‘This is something I didn’t even know I wanted.’
“It’s amazing that this still feels so welcomed by Chicago, that they feel like it’s something that reflects them.”
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