The urban observations of Daniel Petraitis at Rebekah Templeton – Knight Foundation
Arts

The urban observations of Daniel Petraitis at Rebekah Templeton

Once again, Rebekah Templeton Contemporary Art on the fringes of North Philly highlights quality local art in the solo exhibition “Can I Live To My Last Day” by Daniel Petraitis. Here, Petraitis who works in both sculptural and photographic mediums for this show, examines the symbols of life in culturally and visually saturated urban areas – specifically Philadelphia, of course.

Daniel Petraitis, “Bic.”

A particularly riveting piece, and coincidentally the artist’s only two-dimensional inclusion, is the inkjet print entitled “Bic.” On a blizzard-like field, perfect for bidding farewell to winter, an image of the ubiquitous Bic lighter floats amidst the white out. The lighter itself is white too (allegedly bad luck in stoner circles) and blends almost seamlessly with the enveloping background. By studying the very faint and uncertain outlines of the device, one can easily get lost and drawn into the print for long intervals, not unlike the addicting drag of nicotine for cigarette smokers; it really does feel difficult to quit this image. Although no hand is nearby to work the lighter, a flame extends eerily upward from its tip. This depiction is a more than familiar sight in any city and brings to mind the sparking click of flint and brief orange glow of street corner smokers at night.

Daniel Petraitis, "Middle Finger."

A bowl containing the series “Middle Finger.” An entire hand is also exhibited elsewhere in the show, complete with extended finger.

Taking the place of this incorporeal lighter’s missing human element, Petraitis includes a disembodied, prosthetic rubber hand elsewhere to tie up any loose ends. Perhaps even more recognizable, especially to the inner city drivers among us, is the middle fingered gesture often accompanied by a flurry of car horns. This digital urban salute is so common that it has nearly lost its genuinely offensive connotation and become more of an amusement or annoyance than an actual insult. The artist also includes a series of magnetic middle fingers that would surely make a quirky addition to any refrigerator.

Daniel Petraitis, "Security Snowflake."

Daniel Petraitis, “Security Snowflake.”

Of the other four works in the show, three are cast in metal. One sculpture molded in brass takes the form a microphone, representing the focal point of every rock show, rap battle, panel discussion, and comedian in town. Petraitis also takes some liberty with the metal security bars which cover windows in many not-so-safe areas by bending the typically bland rods into a twirling snowflake pattern. Presumably just as strong as its boring, vertical counterparts, this piece is a pleasant variation on a somewhat troubling theme.

Daniel Petraitis, "Crown Victoria, Rear Windshield."

Daniel Petraitis, “Crown Victoria, Rear Windshield.”

Petraitis also includes a to-scale model of the rear window from a Ford Crown Victoria… except cast in silvery aluminum. Clearly (or perhaps opaquely) this window is non-functional, but it would fit into any repurposed police car just the same. Even the thin, black defrosting strips of the original glass window are visible, as is the space for the brake light.

The final object in the show is a found one. Petraitis discovered and smoothed down an apparently marble stair from an old stoop, and stood the slab tall in the corner. Originally designed to carry weight and lead into a building, it now stands as a testament to the stony, concrete landscape in which we reside. Its title, however, is the address of its former home – “1421 N. Front St.” – in case anyone wants to visit.

Daniel Petraitis does well to break down Philadelphia, or really any modern urban area, into a few of its notable components. While there are many more images that could demonstrate a cityscape, this show includes a very concise spread of objects that comprise the communal locales in which we reside.

Rebekah Templeton Contemporary Art is located at 173 W. Girard Ave., Philadelphia; [email protected]rebekahtempleton.com.