Self portait, December 2012
If you’re an admirer of Patti Smith, you will know it was the 40th anniversary of the release of Horses this year. That she galavanted around the world on tour performing the album. As those who know me, will only be too aware, she is one of my key influences and biggest inspirations, my hero in fact (which is a term I never thought I’d use). The time has now come where I am sitting down and dedicating time to write in honour of Patti Smith, this fasincation and why I feel she is still so deeply relevant to our times.
Watching the footage of her perform at Glastonbury this year is uplifting and fills me with joy and renewed optimism about the mighty force within us. At nearly 70 she still has the gusto and passion that she did as a young woman in the 70s. Her spirit is strong and that goes beyond age.
In these strange, confused dark ages we are living through, it is absolutely vital for all of us, right now to keep the fire within us alive.
Patti is someone who does that. A rebel so dedicated to her work, we can all learn something from her. At Glastonbury she was offering the torch on to generations that follow hers singing People have the Power, with optimism and conviction. I am a student of Patti Smith. She is worth learning from.
So here is the story of my relationship to this mighty Artist, sometimes referred to as ‘The Grandmother of Punk’ which is endearing, maybe a little bit patronising but still take it with a pinch of salt. I’m not writing a biography, this is purely personal, you can look that stuff up easy enough.
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While at Art School someone not relevant to my development once reeled your name off non chalantly in a list of influential people, I can’t remember what his point was, nor who the other people were, he had a sense of apathy and arrogance in his delivery, that is my vague memory.
It was not the time to be introduced to you then. No grace nor charm about that moment. It did not have the unanticipated sense of joy of that day later on down the line. That would have deep resonance, out of the blue, an unexpected gift, delightful and true.
The foundation laid, prepared, I was an open book, welcoming new inspirations, my student days over, a year since leaving art school, those days now passed, now gone. Life as a poor ‘artist', now working mundane day jobs, the reality of life after the university bubble now becoming real in all of its utter mundaneness.
The time came, it was 2006. I was 23. Soft amber light outside, my favourite kind. The sound of the old familiar sea gulls. Working in an independent bookshop, back in my hometown on the seafront, having recently got back from travelling across the USA that summer, living back with my folks.
We come to our heroes when we are ready for them. We discover music in our own sweet time, in an organic unfolding. Sounds so utterly new and delightful to our young fresh ears. Like the first time I heard the Velvet Underground’s ‘Andy Warhol’ in the early hours one morning at 16, but that’s another story.
The time you would be introduced to me, I was ready, the timing ideal.
I was in a music shop, MVC, on a coffee break from the bookshop. I perused the collection casually, aimlessly, mildly curious, when I came across the CD Horses. Unexpected discovery. There you were looking back out at me just casually leaning, with presence.
I stoppped in my tracks. Drawn to the cover I was captivated in an instant. At a time where I was back in a place I had left 4 years earlier, surrounded by books during a quiet month more often than not bored out of my skull, that work break enhanced it all and changed my world.
I was curious and intrigued by you. Brain rewiring, the neuro networks in electric blue having new and captivating conversations, lighting up, moving in all directions, forming new patterns. New orbits forming around my being encircling me with new possibility. Invisible threads reaching out and beyond.
I saw the black and white photograph and loved everything about it; the composition, its simplicity and grace, your sense of self assurance, poise and ultimately your ambiguity and androgyny that topped it all.
I bought it knowing nothing of the music but eager to discover it. An innocent.
Perhaps, I reflect now, almost 10 years later, I fell a little in love that day, like you did when you saw Rimbauds photo as a young man.
Next thing, discovering the music, what it contained, GLORIA and Relondo Beach I Iistened to over and over while cycling to and from work along the promenade beach, reigniting something wild and free within me, that you represented. Oh and Break it up, like nothing, nothing I had ever heard before. You reminded me to see the world with the artists lens. Something I sometimes lose but always comes back again.
The way you dressed. I looked you up, captivated. Enigma. COOL AS FUCK.
Again a rite of passage, like a teenage girl. I wore my white shirt and tie to work, black scruffy blazer with all its tears and holes, dark trousers cut just below the knee. I also often wore a trilby hat as I liked the way it felt. Little did I know then, that you worked in bookshops too. Know for a fact I looked far from cool but I enjoyed expressing myself in this way, inspired, not wearing feminine dress, (not that I had much in the past) but reminded of how I loved how it felt to know I can express myself in whatever way I choose. So so good. It was a time of great curiosity and questioning in more ways than one.
You went on the back burner from time to time, burning quietly but never forgotten. Simmering at times that I needed reminding, that people like you exist. Your name came up over those years, but you were never mainstream famous famous, not like Bob or Bowie, not mentioned as much. Way cooler in your oddness to not be a household name like that.
In recent years you’ve been at the forefront more, my key influence coming to the shore. That’s the thing with heroes, they come back and visit you, pop up in your consciousness like guides when you could do with reminding of the things that matter to you.
At any time, sometimes an unexpected knock knock, they wake you up.
All my friends know it, how strongly I feel, I’ve certainly mentioned you enough.
I’ve introduced you to women who are around the same age as when I discovered you, knowing it is my duty. I played Relondo beach to a Jordanian girl while walking the Camino de Santiago this summer. As I watched her, I could see the delight in her eyes as we walked side by side across Northern Spain. What a joy it was to open the doors for her and invite her to walk through.
I've read Just Kids 3 times so far. The second in New York for 10 days alone. Mostly walking endelssly and sitting in diners and cafes in the rain, simply writing. Underlined, marked with stars, dog eared. Facing out on any new bookshelf I can occupy along with your other works.
I've painted you, it was also partly me, you on the mic, me wailing from the heart singing for my recently deceased friend Zsi Chimera who died in a hot air balloon accident in Egypt for the painting You left in flames.
I have made smaller paintings, prints and drawings too over the years. Given one to my dear friend Arks who loves you almost as much as I do. I’ve also taken self portraits channeling the attitude of Horses as my start point.
Sketchbook details
Patti/self portrait combo
Painting
For my birthday last year one of my closest friends, Sarah gave me a card smiling sweetly, she wrote inside that I was going to see you with the Soundwalk Collective, when I read those words my heart burned with that familiar fire I have now grown so accustomed to, it went directly to the source of all power and vibrancy. The best present anyone could ever have given me. For Real.
A year ago around about now, my dear friends Arks, Sarah and I went to the Union Chapel in Islington. I was excited all day, I felt nervous as if before an exam.
I am alive, this is it - print collage with inks, 2014, Martina Ziewe
I looked around the audience of the ambient church, soft lighting, pews slowly filling up as I sat alone for at least an hour while my friends went to the bar way cooler than me. I was not going to lose those seats. Observing the audiences demographic, a mix between people in their 30s, not girly girls, interesting clothes, ones who look like musicians, artists, and poets of course, and people in their 70s, and all inbetween. One woman of about 50 obviously inspired by your way of dress, big scruffy boots and a wild mane of hair. I felt fondness for them all, knowing we had you in common which meant I’d probably get on with them.
Four pews back, to the left of the aisle. Close and ready. So ready.
Eventually you entered. You did not speak to the audience at the beginning. You went straight in, did your thing. You were reciting poems for your friend Nico. The music of The Soundwalk Collective was mezmerising, dreamlike, meditative and surreal all at once. You spoke steady and contained, strong and commanding. And oh that voice.
The lighting lit you up real intense, enhanced your wild white hair, witch like - the only way you would go, never hiding what you are and how you age. Just real. And the way the light hit your hair allowed it to glow and reach up to the celestials as you do with your presence. There was a perfect madness in your eyes. You held your hands up in a bold outward command as if channeling from beyond. Your aura electric and white. You had twitchy mannerisms and sometimes seemed to suddenly remember where you were, coming back to and I felt you become physically more embodied again, to then transcend up in unexpected moments, then fall somewhere in between two worlds then land.
The audience one energy field. You ever present and true holding the room in the palm of your hand. I remembered your words in Just Kids - how you feed off the audience as much as we do from you, put more eloquently than that. When you looked out, whoever you were looking at as far as I was concerned you were singing for me.
For I am the audience and you are the artist, I am the artist inspired by you. Without me who are you performing for? It is the perfect union. A communion of energy and oh how I embraced it. I feel the fire in my heart ignite. Feel the fire. Feel it burn. Burn. Back to you, back to me, to all in the room and beyond.
You give to me directly, so generously. You are in a trance like Morrison, your hero. In turn I am transfixed by you. The way you described watching your heroes you are now giving to me. It passes on. It passes on.
You are so whole heartedly yourself.
It took a few long moments to take your photo subtly, I was aware that any movement I were to make in the room could be seen, everyone so still and present, I was respectful and discreet, so magnified was it all. I eventually got one, grateful and humbled.
Patti Smith and the Soundwalk Collective, Union Chapel, October 2014
One part I remember the most is when you spoke the words ‘in the rain, in the rain’ you repeated, repeated, I was cast under your spell. Oh and the sound of those singing bowls. The visuals on the screen above you. It was that perfect mix, poetry, performance, story telling, art, light, music and visuals. You owned it, the stage, so authentic and true as you always do. So attentive to each moment.
Thank you Patti. I would like to take what you gave me that night and give generously to others in work of my own.
The night was powerful, you stood at the lectern giving the sermon of Patti Smith. I listened attentively and sincerely, I learned.
I’ve learned from your approach to work. Like when Jimi Hendrix or Janis Joplin died you went straight into your process of the experience and wrote a poem, a song or drew something out. You act with such immediacy, with drive and passion to what happens around you. I vow to do that more, to respond to life and honour it with razor sharp awarenss and use the passion I have for being alive to make work, while the fire is burning bright and share it.
Self portrait, November 2015
I relate to how you relate to objects, the way you and Robert displayed your belongings in the spaces you occupied and valued the little you had. I arrange my postcards, books, little bits of jewellery and art works in much the same way, paying close attention, looking at my surroundings with tenderness.
I’ve sat on a pew listening to you feeling the exchange of energy. It has touched and indeed changed me.
I too, have something to give and share with people I come into contact with so deeply. I saw in you what you saw in your heroes. It goes on and on through the generations, all those you touch.
You are so perfectly alive, creative, hard working, passionate and full of fire.
I know that if I met you and we had a conversation, you would be generous and encouraging of my work.
I would like to see you live once more. Not sure if that was the only time in this life. I’m happy I got to experience it either way, we’ll see.
Self portrait 2014, Martina Ziewe
I vow to myself to have the presence, authenticity and passion of my own being and self possessing spirit. My driving force, my fire. Being totally and utterly myself. Free.
Patti and the Dalai Lama at Glastonbury 2015
I am closer to a place where I can see myself sharing more. I trust life will present the right circumstances when it is the time to do so. In performance, art or whatever way is best.
I’ve certainly laid the ground work and that has not been easy.
My introspective hours in dark small spaces and mighty open light ones, alone and working hard, sometimes in wired manic states, ready to be turned outward for all good reasons.
Inward to outward, exposed and revealing light. That light which connects us all.
I am ready. I am READY.
Self Portrait with book, September 2015
Update: since writing this blog I was asked to do a Patti Smith inspired modelling session. I model for art classes. So thought to share it here.
Blog 1, Published 21/11/
