Five excerpts from Just Kids, Patti Smith 2010 (Bloomsbury Publishing)

In 1967, at the age of 20, Patti Smith moved from a small town in New Jersey to New York. She found a job at
Brentano's, a bookstore, where she met Robert Mapplethorpe. The two young people started a love relationship
and first lived in Brooklyn. Robert was a graphic-art student at the Pratt Institute of Brooklyn, and Patti also
5 developed a great interest in all forms of art (painting, photography, literature…).

Excerpt 1 - chapter 2: Just Kids (pp.64-65)

In those days, Brooklyn was very much an outer borough, and seemed far removed from
the action in "The City". Robert loved to go to Manhattan. He felt alive when he crossed the East
River, and it was there he later went through rapid transformations, personally and artistically.

10 I lived in my own world, dreaming about the dead and their vanished centuries. As a
young girl I had spent hours copying the elegant script forming the words of the Declaration of
Independence. Handwriting had always fascinated me. Now I was able to integrate this obscure
skill into my own drawings. I became fascinated with Islamic calligraphy, and sometimes I would
take the Persian necklace out of its tissue wrapping and set it before me when I was drawing.

15 I was promoted as Scribner's (1) from the phone desk to sales. That year, the big sellers
were Adam Smith's The Money Game and Tom Wolfe's Electric Kool-Aid Acid Tests, summing up
the polarization of everything that was rampant in our country. I identified with neither. I felt
disconnected from all that was outside the world that Robert and I had created between us.

I my low periods, I wondered what was the point of creating art. For whom? Are we
20 animating God? Are we talking to ourselves? And what was the ultimate goal? To have one's
work caged in art's great zoos—the Modern the Met, the Louvre?

I craved honesty, yet found dishonesty in myself. Why commit to art? For self-realization,
or for itself? It seemed indulgent to add to the glut unless one offered illumination.

Often I'd sit and try to write or draw, but all of the manic activity in the streets, coupled
25 with the Vietnam War, made my efforts seem meaningless. I could not identify with political
movements. In trying to join them I felt overwhelmed by yet another form of bureaucracy. I
wondered if anything I did mattered.

Robert had little patience with these introspective bouts of mine. He never seemed to
question his artistic drives, and by his example, I understood that what matters is the work: the
30 string of words propelled by God becoming a poem, the weave of color and graphite scrawled
upon the sheet that magnifies His motion. To achieve within the work a perfect balance of faith
and execution. From this state of mind comes a light, life-charged.

Picasso didn't crawl in a shell when his beloved Basque country was bombed. He reacted
by creating a masterpiece in Guernica to remind us of the injustices committed against his
35 people. When I had extra money I'd go to the Museum of Modern Art and sit before Guernica,
spending long hours considering the fallen horse and the eye of the bulb shining over the sad
spoils of war. Then I'd get back to work.
(1) Scribner's: a publishing company in New York where Patti worked at this time
 Excerpt 2 - Chapter 3: Hotel Chelsea (p.101)
40 In 1969, Patti and Robert moved to the Chelsea Hotel. The hotel owner, Stanley Bard, welcomed all kinds of
people, some extremely famous, artists, writers, actors, film directors, rock stars, eccentrics… They could stay
for just a few days or weeks, or live their more permanently. Some (like Patti and Robert) who could not afford
it, did not pay any rent but gave Stanley some of their works of art in exchange for a room.

Possibly the most influential person we met at the Chelsea was Sandy Daley. She was a
45 warm and somewhat reclusive artist who lived next to us in room 1019. It was a completely
white room; even the floors were white. We had to take off our shoes before we entered. Silver
helium pillows from the original Factory (2) drifted and suspended above us. I had never seen
such a place. We sat barefoot on the white floor and drank coffee and looked at her
photography books. Sandy sometimes seemed a dark captive in her white room. She often wore
50 a long black dress and I liked to walk behind her so as to observe her hem trailing the hallway
and the staircase.

Sandy had spent much time working in England, the London of Mary Quant (3), plastic
raincoats, and Syd Barrett (4). She had long nails and I marveled at her technique of lifting the
arm of the record player so as not to damage her manicure. She took simple, elegant
55 photographs and always had a Polaroid camera on hand. It was Sandy who lent Robert his first
Polaroid camera and served as a valued critic and confidante in critiquing his earliest
photographs. Sandy was supportive to both of us and was able to ride, without judgement, the
transitions Robert went through as a man and an artist.
(2) The Factory: an art studio, founded by Andy Warhol, and a regular meeting place for dozens of artists and musicians
60 (including Jean-Michel Basquiat, Keith Harring, David Bowie, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, Madonna, Lou Reed and many
more).
(3) Mary Quant (born 1930): An English fashion designer, who has contributed, amongst others, to the invention of the
"mini-skirt".
(4) Syd Barrett (1946-2006): Co-founder and former member of Pink Floyd. He left the band after their first album, due to a
65 mental breakdown and was replaced by David Gilmour. He lived the rest of his life as a reclusive. The song Shine on you
crazy diamond is about him and his mental illness. Even though his musical career was very short, many artists have said to
have been largely influenced by him.
 Excerpt 3 - Chapter 3: Hotel Chelsea (pp.124-125)
Our room was getting cluttered. It now contained not only our portfolios, books, and
70 clothes, but the supplies Robert had stored in Bruce Rudow's room: chicken wire, gauze, spools
or rope, spray cans, glues, Masonite board, wallpaper rolls, bathroom tiles, linoleum, and piles of
vintage men's magazines. He could never throw any of it away. He was using male subject
matter in a way that I had never seen, cuttings from magazines he had gotten from Forty-second
Street integrated in collages with intersecting lines that served as visual pulleys.

75 I asked him why he just didn't take his own pictures. "Oh, it's so much trouble," he'd say.
"I can't be bothered and the printing would cost too much money." He had taken photographs at
Pratt, but was too impatient with the time-consuming process of the darkroom.

(…)

Sometimes his choice of imagery mystified me, as it did in Brooklyn, but his process did
80 not. I had made cuttings from fashion magazines to make elaborate costumes for paper dolls.

"You should take your own pictures," I'd say.

I said that over and over.

Occasionally I took my own pictures, but had them developed at a Fotomat. I knew
nothing about the darkroom. I got a glimpse of the printing process from watching Judy Linn (5)
85 work. Judy, having graduated from Pratt, had committed herself to photography. When I would
visit her in Brooklyn, we would sometimes spend the day taking photographs, I as her model. As
artist and subject we were suited for each other, because we shared the same visual references.
(…) She shot stills from our imagined movies. Although I didn't smoke, I would pocket a few of
Robert's Kools (6) to achieve a certain look. For our Blaise Cendrars (7) shots we needed thick
90 smoke, for our Jeanne Moreau (8) a black slip and a cigarette.

When I showed him Judy's prints, Robert was amused by my personas. "Patti, you don't
smoke," he'd say, tickling me. "Are you stealing my cigarettes?" I thought he would be annoyed,
since cigarettes were expensive, but the next time I went to Judy's, he surprised me with the last
couple form his battered pack.

95 "I know I'm a fake smoker," I would say, "but I'm not hurting anybody and besides I gotta
enhance my image." It was all for Jeanne Moreau.
(5) Judy Linn: A photographer and friend of Patti and Robert. Patti regularly modeled for her between 1969 and 1976.
(6) Kool: A brand of menthol cigarettes
(7) Blaise Cendrars (1887-1961): A Swiss/French writer.
100 (8) Jeanne Moreau (1928-2017): A French film actress.
 Excerpt 4 - Chapter 3 – Hotel Chelsea (pp.204-205)
In the first few years of the 1970s Robert became more and more attracted to men and he admitted
to Patti that he was becoming homosexual. This led to the end of their love relationship, but they kept
105 living together for a while and they remained very close friends until Robert's death in 1989. In 1975,
Robert met his life-partner, Sam Wagstaff. By this time, he had started a career as a photographer,
primarily using Polaroid cameras and had made a few exhibitions in New York.

I was out the first time Sam came to visit, but by Robert's account Sam and he spent the
evening studying his work. Sam's reactions were insightful, stimulating, and tinged with playful
110 innuendo, and he promised he would return. Robert was like a teenage girl, waiting for Sam to
call.

He entered our life with a breathtaking swiftness. Sam Wagstaff had a sculptural
presence, as if he were carved from granite, a tall and rugged version of Gary Cooper with a
Gregory Peck voice (8). He was affectionate and spontaneous. Sam was attractive to Robert for
115 more than his looks. He had a positive and curious nature and, unlike others Robert had met in
the art world, did not seem tormented about the complexity of being a homosexual. He was less
open, as was typical of his generation, but not ashamed, or divided, and seemed delighted to
share Robert's willingness to be open.

Sam was physically virile, healthy, and mentally lucid in a time when the rampant use of
120 drugs made sober communication about art or process challenging. He was rich yet unimpressed
with wealth. Knowledgeable and enthusiastically open to provocative concepts, he was the
perfect advocate and provider for Robert and his work.

Sam appealed to us both; his maverick side to me, his privileged to Robert (…).

Sealing their seemingly predestined union was the fact that Robert and Sam shared the
125 same birthday, twenty-five years apart. On November fourth, we celebrated at the Pink Tea Cup,
a true soul food kitchen on Christopher Street. Sam, with all his money, liked the same places we
did. That evening, Robert gave Sam a photograph and Sam gave Robert a Hasselblad camera.
This early exchange was symbolic of their roles as artist and patron (9).

The Hasselblad was a medium-format camera fitted with a Polaroid back. Its complexity
130 required the use of a light meter, and the interchangeable lens gave Robert a greater depth of
field. It allowed him more choices and flexibility, more control over his use of light. Robert had
already defined his visual vocabulary. The new camera taught him nothing, just allowed him to
get exactly what he was looking for. Robert and Sam could not have chosen more significant gifts
for one another.
135 (8) Gary Cooper and Gregory Peck: Two iconic Hollywood actors.
(9) A patron is a financial benefactor
 Excerpt 5 - A note to the reader (pp. 287-288)
On March 8, 1989, Robert and I had our last conversation. The last, that is, in the human
form. He knew he was dying and yet there was still a note of hope, a singular and obdurate
140 thread, woven in the timber of his voice. I asked him what he wanted me to do for him and he
said take care of my flowers. He asked me to write an introduction to his flower book. They are
color flowers and I know you prefer the black and white ones so perhaps you won't like them. I
will like them I said and I will do it. I told him that I would continue our work, our collaboration,
for as long as I lived. Will you write our story? Do you want me to? You have to he said no one
145 but you can write it. I will do it, I promised, though I knew it would be a vow difficult to keep. I
love you Patti. I love you Robert. (…)

(…) There are many stories I could yet write about Robert, about us. But this is the story I
have told. It is the one he wished me to tell and I have kept my promise. We were as Hansel and
150 Gretel and we ventured out into the black forest of the world. There were temptations and
witches and demons we never dreamed of and there was splendor we only partially imagined.
No one could speak for these two young people nor tell with any truth of their days and nights
together. Only Robert and I could tell it. Our story, as he called it. And, having gone, he left the
task to me to tell it to you.
155 May 22, 2010

Robert Mapplethorpe died of AIDS on March 9th 1989, at the age of 42. His work is shown in many major
museums across the world.
Patti Smith is 72. She has released 12 albums since 1975 and has had a major influence on a large number of
160 singers and bands until today. She has published many books, including her two best-selling memoirs, Just Kids
(2010) and M Train (2015). Amongst her most famous songs are Gloria, Pissing in a River, Because the Night,
Rock'n'roll Nigger, People Have the Power and Dancing Barefoot.