"He was searching, consciously or unconsciously, for himself. He was in a fresh state of transformation. He had shed the skin of his ROTC uniform, and in its wake his scholarship, his commercial path, and his father's expectations of him. At seventeen he had been infatuated with the prestige of the Pershing Rifles, their brass buttons, highly polished boots, braids and ribbons. It was the uniform that attracted him, just as the robes of an altar boy had drawn him to the altar. But his wervice was to art, not to church or country. His beads, dungarees, and sheepskin vest represented not a costume but an expression of freedom." (47-48)
"My table manners apalled Robert. I could see it in the cast of his eyes, the turn of his head. When I ate with my hands, he thought it drew too much attention, even while he'd be sitting in the booth bare-chested, wearing several beaded necklaces and an embroidered sheepskin vest. Our nitpicking usually evolved into laughter, especially when I'd point out such discrepancies. We continued these diner arguments throughout our long friendship. My manners never got any better but his attire went through some extremely flamboyant changes." (64)
Smith, Patti. Just Kids. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.
The wardrobe of an artist, c. 1960s (and beyond). I especially admire the first quote, which describes the evolution not only of this one man, but of many young people in the 1960s (and today): away from what one's parents prefer toward a more genuine you. It's a different uniform, but maybe with the same fascination.
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| Robert Mapplethorpe: necklaces, open shirt, sailor hat. From here. |
Smith, Patti. Just Kids. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.
The wardrobe of an artist, c. 1960s (and beyond). I especially admire the first quote, which describes the evolution not only of this one man, but of many young people in the 1960s (and today): away from what one's parents prefer toward a more genuine you. It's a different uniform, but maybe with the same fascination.