#4 - Patti Smith: Got to Lose Control and Then You Take Control

Patti Smith gives me a portrait. (Happy Birthday, Patti)

I wasn’t expecting to post again before the New Year, but I just remembered that it was Patti Smith’s birthday.

In the summer of 2014, I was assigned by the New York Times to photograph her and Klaus Biesenbach, the director of MoMA PS1 at the time, for an article previewing a show they curated at Fort Tilden called Rockaway!

Most New York Times assignments just get dropped in your lap with very little time to get your mind around what you need to do, but in this case I had a few days. Having recently read Just Kids, I was aware of her deep creative relationship with Robert Maplethorpe and knew she would be a very discerning subject when it came to working with a photographer. I was much more intimidated than excited.

A publicist from MoMA drove me out to the community center in the park grounds at Fort Tilden. Patti’s Land Camera polaroids were in the process of being sequencing and hung in the gallery space. She arrived shortly after and strolled the space, inspecting the progress of the installation with Klaus. Envisioning a massive spread in the Arts section, the enterprising photographer in me started snapping some casual documentary photos to add context to the piece. About seven shots in, Patti got annoyed and told me to stop. Damn! I’d already blown it! I was embarrassed and stammered that this was just some BTS crap to make my editor happy. But what she said was actually an opening. I’m pulling this from memory, but it was something like, “I’m not ready yet, I don’t want you to take pictures, I want to give you a picture.” After my nerves settled, I realized she had just expressed her willingness to be a subject and give me the opportunity to make something together. I was in!

The offending photograph.

When it was time, we went to into a heavily graffiti’d room of an old military building nearby that had a giant cistern in the middle of it and soft window light. Reading the energy in the room together we found our spots. I directed her nervously when necessary, but she already knew photogenic positions of the hands and arms and I was relieved to let her lead. I did my part suggesting things to try while asking questions about Tom Verlaine and Fred ‘Sonic’ Smith, trying to be sensitive to those pauses where it’s better to move on to something else than keep shooting the same photo. She gave me a very unhurried 12 minutes, but it came and went in a blur.

I shot some safety images on a digital camera but switched over to a Leica M6 that I had acquired recently and shot a roll. (I think it was the first roll I ever shot with that camera, thank G-d I loaded it correctly.) It was from those frames that I felt the most connection.

The Times never ran any of it—I probably didn’t even have time to develop and scan the negatives before needing to file the assignment—but looking at it now, that was the shoot. Those were the pictures Patti gave me.

Afterwards, we had to photograph something else nearby at Klaus’ house. Klaus, Patti and I were in a small car driving over there and Patti apologized for being snappy (which was not necessary). We talked a bit about other shoots she’d been on where she could just sense things weren’t right. Then she casually said, “but you seem to know what you’re doing.”

And that’s what I’ll put on my tombstone.

Thank you, Patti, and Happy Birthday.

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