A massive spider dominates the rooftop of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, its face twisted into an enigmatic grin. While the spider might appear menacing, its demeanor softens due to the presence of a small bird resting on one of its bent legs, wings poised as if ready to soar.
The pair presents a striking tableau. Yet, from certain perspectives, they blend into the cityscape behind them, becoming just another oddity in New York's sprawling ecosystem. In heavy rain, the smiling spider might disappear from view entirely.
Petrit Halilaj, a 38-year-old artist from Kosovo, has created these animal sculptures for his commission on the Met's rooftop. The Met has launched nearly a dozen such commissions, each crafted by a different artist every summer. While most have been large, ornate, and sometimes garish, Halilaj's work stands out for its simplicity and minimalism, making it arguably the finest among them.
Halilaj is familiar with large-scale sculptures, having earned recognition at the 2010 Berlin Biennale with a life-sized replica of the framework of his family’s home in Prishtina. For the Met's rooftop, he has constructed another house-like installation, populated with a stick figure and a golden star. Visitors can walk beneath this structure and look up to see a Picasso-like eye gazing down at them.
The installation titled Abetare (2024) by Petrit Halilaj, aside from the house and spider elements, primarily features steel structures that are understated, moderately sized, and semi-abstract. This is perhaps as close as Halilaj's work comes to being ideal for Instagram.
Embedded within many of these sculptures are words that hint at Halilaj’s inspirations. For instance, "Runik," the name of Halilaj’s birthplace, is incorporated into one piece, while "KFOR," an acronym for the Kosovo Force, appears in another. These elements serve as poignant reminders that Abetare, named after the alphabet books used by Kosovar children, draws deeply from Halilaj’s experiences during the disruptive Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s.
During the Kosovo conflict, Petrit Halilaj, then a teenager, found himself displaced to a refugee camp in Albania. It was there that Italian psychologists encouraged him to take up drawing. For Halilaj, creating art served as both a creative escape and a means of survival, helping him to cope with his tumultuous circumstances by depicting mountainous terrains and armed soldiers. As an adult, he has often revisited these early sketches, sometimes enlarging them into new pieces of art.
However, Halilaj’s own drawings are not the sole focus of his captivating sculptures. More recently, his works have incorporated drawings he discovered in Kosovo's schoolrooms, and his artistic exploration has broadened to include reflections on other Balkan nations as well.
For example, the spider sculpture originated from a well-worn desk in Skopje, North Macedonia, initially featuring drawings related to Pokémon, which are now missing. In another piece, a heart-shaped figure is juxtaposed with a phallus and the word "tiddies." Halilaj doesn't just replicate these images; he blends them, hinting at a form of unity among adolescents—both the innocent and the libidinous—across national divides.
By reinterpreting these youthful scribbles, Halilaj affectionately elevates them to the status of noteworthy art. Unfortunately, it's impossible to know who these young artists were, as their names have not been preserved. The installation Abetare conveys a sense of impermanence, reflected in the delicate appearance of these steel works.
However, the seeming delicacy of these sculptures might be deceptive. Halilaj has noted that the Met stipulated his artwork must endure hurricane conditions. Beyond meeting contractual obligations, Halilaj has transformed these children's sketches into monumental works that not only withstand the ravages of time but also, it seems, the challenges posed by climate change.
Although Abetare delves into the fragile nature of national histories, Halilaj intelligently incorporates elements of humor. Make sure to notice the cat figure hanging from a flower-covered pergola as you exit, and the grinning cat positioned near a bench.
Also, take a moment to reflect in front of a louvered screen set in a low wall. Adjacent to this, Halilaj has positioned a poignant word: HERE. This could allude to a city (New York), a museum (the Met), or a specific part of a facility (its ventilation system). Originally from the Balkans, this HERE has found a fitting new setting, blending seamlessly into its quirky surroundings.
Selena Mattei