In January of 2010, Patti Smith released the heart-wrenching memoir, Just Kids, detailing her early days in New York City spent in obscurity with her unexpected cohort, photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. Before either of them knew what they wanted to do with their lives--before Mapplethorpe became truly aware of his sexuality--all they had was each other, and that was all they ever needed.
The Belle of Brooklyn
Smith arrived in Brooklyn by way of Deptford Township, New Jersey. Immediately getting off at the slightly seedy Hoyt-Schermerhorn stop, she was secretly expecting some friends she knew to give her a place to stay until she could plot her next move. Tragically, her friends were no longer there, though she did come across Mapplethorpe for the first time, lying in his aloof way on a bed in the apartment. He led her to their new address on Clinton Avenue. Incidentally, her friends never showed up, leaving her no choice but to sleep on the stoop. Although obviously, it was not a complete waste, as she never would have met her future partner in crime--her soul mate in a city of desertion and loneliness.
"Was It Destiny? I Don't Know Yet."
Smith happened upon Mapplethorpe again in what was perhaps a case of happenstance, but, upon closer examination, was more than likely a case of destiny. How else can one explain the fact that she worked at the uptown branch of Brentano's and he at the downtown branch?
It seemed that the existence of fate was proven in Smith and Mapplethorpe's reunion at Brentano's, the bookstore where Smith wrangled her first job in the city. Smith manned the jewelry section of the store and one day Mapplethorpe strolled in and bought her favorite Persian necklace. She boldly asserted, "Don't give it to any girl but me." He responded, "I won't," and their devotion to one another was solidified.
Living on Love, Books, and Records
It is difficult, in the current epoch in which we inhabit, to imagine a time where two people could be content simply reading and listening to records because they had absolutely no extra source of income to spare on outside entertainment. But that is exactly how Smith and Mapplethorpe functioned for most of the late 1960s.
The intensity of unspoken emotions between them is succinctly elucidated as Smith recounts, "Wordlessly we absorbed the thoughts of one another and just as dawn broke fell asleep in each other's arms. When we awoke he greeted me with his crooked smile, and I knew he was my knight." Their days--years--of struggling through the class-obsessed culture of New York were made bearable by knowing that they could always count on one another for support.
Things Change at the Hotel Chelsea
Smith and Mapplethorpe came to find themselves at the Hotel Chelsea out of desperation. Mapplethorpe was at a particularly low point in terms of his drug haze and contraction of gonorrhea (which he then passed on to Smith). Hearing that the hotel would take on tenants in exchange for art, Smith made the executive decision to move them there. It was a life-altering choice.
The rotation of artists that lived in and frequented the hotel was the step that Smith and Mapplethorpe needed to get them back on the path to both of their respective artistic careers. Mapplethorpe's art was finally allowed to take shape in the form of visceral, groundbreaking photography and Smith was able to meet the people who would encourage and bolster her ultimate realization that she was meant to be a musician. Surrounded by prominent figures of the New York art scene, Andy Warhol's posse included, it was only a matter of time before they both received the recognition they deserved.
Never Really Gone
In spite of each of them achieving independent success and, eventually, mass admiration, Smith and Mapplethorpe always carried one another within themselves. Smith's viability as a singer was confirmed with the hit single "Because the Night" in 1978. In 1980, she went on to marry Fred Sonic Smith and later gave birth to their two children, Jackson and Jesse. Mapplethorpe's connections with John McKendry, the curator of photography at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, propelled his renown in the art world, earning him respect and acclaim before he died of AIDS in 1989.
In the final pages of the book, Smith discusses her agony over Mapplethorpe's death, for it was as though she had lost a sizable portion of herself. But then she imagines what Mapplethorpe would say to her in consolation: "Smile for me, Patti, as I am smiling for you." And that is the most important lesson to take away from Just Kids.
Sources:
- Smith, Patti. Just Kids. HarperCollins Publishes: New York, 2010.
Genna Rivieccio - Genna Rivieccio's brain was designed specifically to retain an amalgam of pop culture images, references, and sound bites.
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