Essay by Patti Smith: Art Rats in New York City

In 1967, I stepped out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal with a plaid suitcase and a fierce wish to become an artist. My abilities were uncertain, but I had the drive to refine them because I believed in the truth of my calling. It came to me like a revelation—free of any pact or divine expectation. I knew I was alone, yet I secretly hoped to meet an ally, and fate soon introduced me to one.

Meeting Robert Mapplethorpe

Robert Mapplethorpe was an American boy from a Catholic family. He had once played saxophone in his high school band and earned an R.O.T.C. scholarship to study graphic arts at Pratt Institute. His mother dreamed of seeing him become a priest, while his father pictured him rising through the military ranks, using commercial art as a practical skill.

Robert had pale skin, green eyes, and short, dark curls. Accepting the path laid out by his father afforded him an apartment, tall leather riding boots, and a small allowance. At Pratt, he quickly proved to be a gifted draftsman and, for a time, followed the expected route. Yet, few realized a different self was awakening within him.

At twenty, Robert put aside his saxophone, his robes, and his rifle. Looking in the mirror, he saw neither a priest nor a soldier.

Author’s Summary

In the quest to become artists, Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe embodied youthful faith, choice, and transformation in late 1960s New York.

The New Yorker — 2025-11-01