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ArtBlog.sk – Hudba, Film, Divadlo, Literatúra | December 18, 2017

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Leto, ktoré zmenilo Patti Smith život

Leto, ktoré zmenilo Patti Smith život

| On 13, Sep 2010

Bolo to leto, kedy zomrel Coltrane, leto lásky a protestov, leto, kedy dvadsaťročná Patti Smith prvýkrát prišla do New Yorku, aby tam uskutočnila svoje sny, leto, kedy stretla Roberta Mapplethorpa. Ich vzťah prerástol do celoživotného priateľstva a oddanosti jeden druhému, a pred jeho smrťou v roku 1989 mu Patti sľúbila, že napíše ich príbeh. Stalo sa, a tak tu máme na pozadí New Yorku šesťdesiatych a sedemdesiatych rokov miestami až lyrický príbeh dvoch ľudí, ktorí si sľúbili, že budú chrániť jeden druhého pred svetom a ktorí zasvätili svoje životy umeniu.

Keď sa Patti a Robert prvýkrát stretli, neboli slávni, boli to „len“ dve deti, ktoré si snažili nájsť svoju cestu. Bez jedla a často bez peňazí na zaplatenie nájmu spoznávali New York od Coney Island až po Štyridsiatu druhú ulicu, až si našli svoje miesto v slávnom hoteli Chelsea. Vždy odhodlaní tvoriť a spoznávať tajomné cesty umenia, poháňaní svojimi snami, starali sa jeden o druhého počas prvých rokov v New Yorku, ktorý sa zmietal v atmosfére lásky, rock and rollu, poézie, sexu a drog, svete Andyho Warhola a Jimiho Hendrixa.

Today was Monday; I was born on Monday. It was a good day to arrive in the New York City. No one expected me. Everything awaited me.

It was the summer Coltrane died. The summer of „Crystal Ship“. Flower children raised their empty hands and China exploded the H-bomb. Jimi Hendrix set his guitar in flames in Monterey. AM radioplayed „Ode to Billie Joe“. There were riots in Newmark, Milwaukee, and Detroit. It was the summer of Elvira Madigan, the summer of love. And in this shifting, inhospitable atmosphere, a chance encounter changed the course of my life. It was the summer I met Robert Mapplethorpe.

Asi najmagickejšie pôsobia spomienky na ich čas strávený v hoteli Chelsea:

I had no concept of what life at the Chelsea Hotel would be like when we checked in, but I soon realized it was a tremendous stroke of luck to wind up there.

I loved this place, its shabby elegance, and the history it held so possessively. There were rumours of Oscar Wilde’s trunks languishing in the hull of the oft-flooded basement. Here Dylan Thomas, submerged in poetry and alcohol, spent his last hours. Thomas Wolfe plowed through hundrends of pages of manuscript that formed You Can’t Go Home Again. Bob Dylan composed „Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands“ on our floor…

I was thinking what a magical portal this lobby was when the heavy glass door opened as if swept by wind and a familiar figure in a black and scarlet cape entered. It was Salvador Dalí. He looked around the lobby nervously, and then, seeing my crow, smiled. He placed his elegant, bony hand atop my head and said: „You are like a crow, a gothic crow.“

A my tam dokonca nájdeme aj kúsok vlastnej histórie, keď Patti opisuje, ako vznikala jej skupina:

I found my third man in an appealing Czechoslovakian. In his appearance and musical style, Ivan Kral upheld the tradition and promise of rock much as the Rolling Stones celebrated the blues. He had been an emerging pop star in Prague, but his dreams were shattered when his home country was invaded by Russia in 1968.

Začínali ako milenci a končili ako priatelia, keď Robert, ktorý smeroval k fotografii, zistil, že má viac vzťah k mužom než k ženám. Je to portrét dvoch umelcov, ich predohra k sláve, a zároveň obraz New York City v celej jeho kráse aj ošarpanosti. Je to príbeh spomienok s atmosférou listu milencovi, príbeh, kde sa mihnú William Burroughs, Allen Ginsberg, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, a mnohí iní. Dozvieme sa z neho mnoho zaujímavých udalostí, ktoré sa odohrali na uliciach New Yorku či v hale hotela Chelsea, dozvieme sa, ako sa z Patti vyvinula pesničkárka a z Roberta fotograf. Kniha obsahuje viacero fotografií z týchto prvých rokov a aj vďaka nim má nostalgickú atmosféru.

A ešte niekoľko citátov na záver:

I was completely smitten by the book. I longed to read them all, and the things I read of produces new yearnings.

But secretly I knew I had been transformed, moved by the revelation that human beings create art, that to be an artist was to see what others could not.

Often I´d sit and try to write or draw, but all of the manic activity in the streets, coupled 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.

Laughter. An essential ingredient for survival. And we laughed a lot.

We were like fishermen throwing out our nets. The net was strong but often we returned from ventures empty-handed.

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