Between 1995 and 1996, I lived for a year in Chicago. It was one of the most intense years of my life. And a very dramatic turning point, too.
At that time, I was 25 and doing a very bad job at trying to survive as a freelance journalist. My main clients were Metromix, a pioneering website at the time, and Exito!, the Spanish weekly published by the Chicago Tribune. For both outlets I covered cultural events, and for Exito! I wrote art and theater reviews.
And that is how I met Aldo Castillo, the charismatic art dealer and curator, at the center of a romantic memory in a key scene of our play "Tables and Beds, an unromantic comedy".
The references to Aldo Castillo and his gallery are always received with complicity by a large number of our audience members. And that is because if you're a gay man of a certain age in Chicago, chances are you know Aldo and/or you have many friends in common with him. Who hasn't partaken or witness the following conversation? "Hey! Wait. I think I know you! We met at Aldo's Gallery!"
In that faithful year of 1996, I got to spent a lot of time in his iconic art gallery, at that point in its second incarnation at 675 N Franklin St (Close to the Chicago Brown Line.)
For me, Aldo's gallery was my little Rabitt's Hole from Alice in Wonderland. For two reasons. First, the artwork. I remember very vividly so many of the artists he represented and represents as well as the perfectly curated exhibitions he organized. Just to mention one, I remember an incredible exhibition by the otherworldly Colombian painter Luis Fernando Uribe.
The second reason? The clientele. Every opening at Aldo's was not just another opening but an EVENT! The participants in Aldo's soirees were from my impressionable young perspective the quintessential sample of glamour and sophistication. At Aldo's openings, there was always enough beautiful people and back-stage drama to make anybody feel, if only for one night, that they were not in Chicago but in New York or London. (And let's face it, at times, that is the secret dirty daydream of many artsy people in Chicago.)
17 years ago this weekend, I left Chicago for Washington D.C., to work once more for CNN. My hope was always to come back to Chicago one day. When I finally did in July of 2011, Aldo's Gallery was closed. A friend told me he had moved to Florida...
But Aldo's legacy persists in many ways. And that's why I wanted to pay tribute to him in the American version of "Tables and Beds".
Away from Chicago, now, Aldo manages very far-flung international art projects. Visit
http://www.aldocastilloprojects.com/index.html But most impressively, in Chicago, Aldo continues to be present in hundreds of conversations every single night.
Let's face it, if I could have a quarter for every time I hear Aldo Castillos' name at a party in Chicago, I would be richer than Mark Zuckerberg!
At that time, I was 25 and doing a very bad job at trying to survive as a freelance journalist. My main clients were Metromix, a pioneering website at the time, and Exito!, the Spanish weekly published by the Chicago Tribune. For both outlets I covered cultural events, and for Exito! I wrote art and theater reviews.
And that is how I met Aldo Castillo, the charismatic art dealer and curator, at the center of a romantic memory in a key scene of our play "Tables and Beds, an unromantic comedy".
The references to Aldo Castillo and his gallery are always received with complicity by a large number of our audience members. And that is because if you're a gay man of a certain age in Chicago, chances are you know Aldo and/or you have many friends in common with him. Who hasn't partaken or witness the following conversation? "Hey! Wait. I think I know you! We met at Aldo's Gallery!"
In that faithful year of 1996, I got to spent a lot of time in his iconic art gallery, at that point in its second incarnation at 675 N Franklin St (Close to the Chicago Brown Line.)
For me, Aldo's gallery was my little Rabitt's Hole from Alice in Wonderland. For two reasons. First, the artwork. I remember very vividly so many of the artists he represented and represents as well as the perfectly curated exhibitions he organized. Just to mention one, I remember an incredible exhibition by the otherworldly Colombian painter Luis Fernando Uribe.
The second reason? The clientele. Every opening at Aldo's was not just another opening but an EVENT! The participants in Aldo's soirees were from my impressionable young perspective the quintessential sample of glamour and sophistication. At Aldo's openings, there was always enough beautiful people and back-stage drama to make anybody feel, if only for one night, that they were not in Chicago but in New York or London. (And let's face it, at times, that is the secret dirty daydream of many artsy people in Chicago.)
17 years ago this weekend, I left Chicago for Washington D.C., to work once more for CNN. My hope was always to come back to Chicago one day. When I finally did in July of 2011, Aldo's Gallery was closed. A friend told me he had moved to Florida...
But Aldo's legacy persists in many ways. And that's why I wanted to pay tribute to him in the American version of "Tables and Beds".
Away from Chicago, now, Aldo manages very far-flung international art projects. Visit
http://www.aldocastilloprojects.com/index.html But most impressively, in Chicago, Aldo continues to be present in hundreds of conversations every single night.
Let's face it, if I could have a quarter for every time I hear Aldo Castillos' name at a party in Chicago, I would be richer than Mark Zuckerberg!
Emilio Williams
Art dealer, Aldo Castillo
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