Essay by Patti Smith: Art Rats in New York City
In 1967, I arrived at the Port Authority Bus Terminal carrying a plaid suitcase, driven by a dream to become an artist. Though I may have lacked some skills, my determination to grow was strong, fueled by a deep belief in my calling. It came to me as a vivid vision, without any Faustian bargain or divine promise. I knew I was on my own but still hoped to find a companion, and fate introduced me to one.
Robert Mapplethorpe was an American boy raised in a strict Catholic household. He played saxophone in his high school band and earned an R.O.T.C. scholarship to study graphic arts at Pratt Institute. His mother hoped he would become a priest, while his father imagined a military career supported by commercial art skills. Robert had pale skin, green eyes, and close-cropped dark curly hair.
Following his father's path granted Robert an apartment, polished knee-high leather riding boots, and a steady allowance. At Pratt, he excelled as a draftsman and briefly adhered to expectations. Yet, beneath the surface, another identity was emerging. By age twenty, Robert had abandoned his saxophone, his choir robes, and his rifle. Facing the mirror, he no longer saw a priest or an R.O.T.C. cadet.
"There was no Faustian pact connected with my vow, no expectations from godly elements. I knew I would be on my own, yet still hoped for a compatriot, and Providence led me to him."
"At the age of twenty, Robert laid down his saxophone, his robes, and his rifle. He looked in the mirror and saw neither a priest nor a future captain in the R.O.T.C."
Author's summary: Patti Smith recalls her arrival in New York City and her meeting with Robert Mapplethorpe, capturing their youthful defiance and search for identity beyond imposed expectations.