Vladas Urbanavičius is undoubtedly the best known Lithuanian sculptor of the 21st century. Paradoxically, it was not his works of the Soviet era that made him famous, but rather the 2009 sculpture Quay's Arch built near the Neris river in Vilnius and popularly known as “The Tube”. An excellent work, although not his best one. It just so happened that intelligent manipulating of information by politicians and journalists working for them made of Urbanavičius' object the bone of contention between philistines and the cultural elite, highlighting the division between artists loyal to the regulated aesthetics inculcated during the Soviet era and those thinking in Western categories. It also created a powerful stream of public speeches. Articles about Quay's Arch were written, television and radio broadcasts and even Internet blogs were created, its phenomenon was being analysed in books by art historians and sociologists, while its imagery became popular in advertisements and souvenirs about Vilnius. Now it is one of Vilnius' icons, competing with the Gediminas Castle and the TV tower.

Unexpectedly brought into the spotlight, the sculptor felt bad. Attention from the media weighted him down, even though throughout his life he got accustomed to unfavourable assessment of his work. It is in 1985 that the artist made a decisive turn against the current. His sculptures from that year Four Hillocks, The Leaning Cone and Ragged represent nothing but themselves. They require willingness and determination of the viewer to enter the adventure of cognizing artistic expression by liberating thinking and imagination. In Soviet times, such art was considered dangerous and therefore obstructed in every way. Urbanavičius knew this all too well and yet decided to cut the cord that had previously tied his works with real prototypes, thus protecting from censors' condemnation. All the more so because the sculptor had been aptly naming the prototypes of his sculptures, thus giving a laconic and clear name to an almost abstract form, along with a key to the image: Hand (1979), Leaves, Pleats, Finger (all from 1981), Wings (1982), Prop (1983).

In his first solo exhibition at the Lithuanian Soviet Socialist Republic's Art Workers Palace (currently the Presidential Palace) Urbanavičius exhibited twelve bronze objects that were titled by inventory numbers: Sculpture no. 1, Sculpture no. 2 and so on. These refined compositions of minimalist shapes marked a turning point in the development of modern Lithuanian sculpture. It is likely that without a tense political background of the time that foreshadowed radical changes in the life of the state, Urbanavičius' works would not even have come to light. However, this was well the case and his name went down in the history of art, although known only to art professionals.

After 1990 Urbanavičius' works sprang to light from the pocket space of his workshop (until then he had only built five sculptures in Klaipėda Sculpture Park and one in Upper Paneriai – after the concrete sculpture symposium that took place in 1985). The artist was being invited to participate in symposia, tried not to miss any of the monumental competitions taking place at the time, created Church-commissioned works (made church accessories and was even asked to design a monastery) and became popular as a creator of tombstone sculptures (most of his tombstones are in Antakalnis cemetery in Vilnius, but some can also be found in other cemeteries in Vilnius and other cities and towns).

The year 2000 saw Urbanavičius enter the phase of using found objects in sculpture (e.g. Ball, Hood, both from 2000; Pillar II, Ring, both from 2001), culminating in 2003 in the exhibition "Borrowed Forms" held at gallery “Lietuvos aidas”. Intense reflection on the sculpture as a spatial object and its relationship with the environment and the perceiver at once propelled to create site-specific objects of art. The first attempt, object Lintel (2005), was built in the square of the railway station on the occasion of Vilnius Quadrennial of Contemporary Art; while the 2006 installation To find oneself in the sculpture space was installed in gallery “Lietuvos aidas”. This was a sort of rehearsal before taking up an object that was gigantic on the Lithuanian scale: Hanging Stones, erected in the “Sculpture zone” on Taika Avenue in Kaunas in 2006, is one of the most ambitious Lithuanian art projects of the beginning of the 21st century. It was funded by private sponsors, which lends the work additional exclusivity.

It is not only Hanging Stones that testifies that Urbanavičius' attitude to sculpture and its expression is beginning to take root. It was precisely this sculptor that was chosen by the Partisan Warrior Antanas Kraujelis Memorial Commemoration Fund to mark the place of death of the longest fighting Lithuanian partisan. One cannot miss the monument created by Urbanavičius that was unveiled near the turn to Kvykliai on the Utena–Vilnius road in the autumn of 2014. Its silhouette emerges from afar and, as one keeps approaching the monument, the stainless steel lettering and the edging of the Cross of Vytis begin to shine with silver in the background of rusty metal. Such a monument cannot be threatened by the unstable Lithuanian climate or vandals, neither is it impacted by the dirt coming off the wheels of the cars zipping down the road: it is resistant to time and transience.

Urbanavičius' ability to combine monumentality and refined elegance led to him being commissioned to create the tombstone for the painter and collector Kazys Varnelis, famous for his especially subtle taste and rich culture (2016, Antakalnis Cemetery, Vilnius).

Urbanavičius' recent commissioned works are yet another paradox, among the many in his professional career: the one Lithuanian artist who has received the most public criticism is being invited to do commissions that are of great importance on the social and even national levels.

Giedrė Jankevičiūtė