In late August I was at a local used book sale near my hometown. Last year I had found a lot of cool books for a steal — five books for about $20! This year’s sale was kind of a bust, there wasn’t a lot of gems. But honestly, that’s okay. Because sometimes, you really just need one brilliant one.
That one brilliant gem I got this year was Patti Smith’s iconic memoir, Just Kids. I’ve been dying to read it for so long too, and I found one hardcover edition in great shape. I started reading it that day and since I finished I’ve been thinking about her story for so long.
Just Kids is the story of rock n roll legend and visual artist Patti Smith and her relationship with fellow visual artist and photographer Robert Mapplethorpe. It’s her first book of prose, and in it she chronicles their journey to New York City in the late ’60s, finding each other and growing together as artists through the early ’70s in snapshot stories and vignettes. It’s an incredibly honest story of friendship, companionship and life as an artist.
What really struck me when reading about Smith’s early years was how hard she worked for her “big break.” She was working towards being a real working artist since the first day she step foot in New York City. Despite facing rejection for years, she kept worked at developing her talent and skills. There was nothing else for her to be but her true self — an artist working at her craft. She writes about being surrounded by her unfinished poems scattered around, and how for months she’d go without finishing something.
Through working with Mapplethorpe, she would work at her keeping up with his growing talent with her own art. She wasn’t naturally a great and respected poet, lyricist and artist. She worked at it. It was something she loved, and loved so very much that she put in the time and effort to develop it into something real and valuable.
There was a story Smith told about midway through Just Kids, right around when she was still starting to perform her work live. She had been offered a small recording contract, and yet she turned it down. She knew she wasn’t ready, there was more work she had to put into her craft before it was her time to rise. I can’t stop thinking about how she was that intuitive to know it wasn’t her time yet. There was still more she needed to learn and experience before she could become the Patti Smith.
Throughout her early years in New York, rejection followed both her and Mapplethorpe around constantly. No one would publish her work, nor would anyone show his art. They fought tooth and nail for that inch of progress and in rising the ranks of the city’s art world. And in her honesty she admitted it would often get to her. The constant drain of giving all her effort to produce nothing towards her goals. She would go months without finishing poems, her productivity slowing down.
Key words: slowing down.
She never stopped trying. She kept swinging, kept chasing her dream. Because she knew it was better to go for it than to not do anything towards it at all. It’s one of the biggest things from Just Kids I can’t seem to shake. That she was never the best when she started out. It was through consistent effort and her own passion for the craft she grew to be so great.
I have to keep the concept of constantly evolving in mind as I move forward with my postgraduate life. I’m still growing, I’m still creating myself. Graduation doesn’t mean that’s over. Maybe I didn’t graduate as the best like I had hoped I would be. That’s fine. But I have to keep moving forward, keep improving myself.
It’s not about where you land, or even how long it took you to get there — it’s about how you never quit the journey. Even if it seemed impossible, you kept moving forward.
I’ll end this post showing my gratitude for reading this incredible memoir when I did. Thank you, Patti Smith. Thank you for writing yours and Robert’s story, giving me what I needed to understand.