Patti Smith & the Long Pause
Do you have a model for your creative life? How about a model for a Long Pause?
Last week I was in the Adirondacks with my family, and on my walks in the woods and swims in the lake, I thought about Jules Chung’s Press Play interview, which hit The Long Pause a couple of weeks ago. What struck me most was the faith she had that her life, and therefore her Pause— however challenging— was part of her work.
The way Jules described her decision to keep writing for herself, even if producing something tangible and “finished” wasn’t accessible, reminded me of another artist who has been living in my head for a long time. Another artist who had a long long pause.
My first brush with Patti Smith and her work came in 1993 when the alternative radio station I listened to as a gangly pre-teen played 10,000 Maniacs’ cover of “Because the Night” on heavy rotation. I loved it and hatched a plan to listen to it on a loop until I died, but because I was 11 and had no context for what I was looking for, I ended up checking out Patti Smith’s 1975 debut Horses (not even Easter!) from the library instead.
I listened to the whole thing in a confused state of anticipation, but “Because The Night” never came. Hopes dashed, I took Horses back to the library. I wasn’t ready for it. But I thought about that album a lot, in the inchoate way you mull over something that will return to you someday.
When Smith won the National Book Award for Just Kids in 2010, I listened to the audiobook, which she read herself, and her voice stitched together the story of the song I had waited for on the radio and the artist who made it.
felt I understood the energy of sacrifice and devotion driving her work. I yearned for the connection between Patti Smith and Robert Mapplethorpe, their support for one another, and the way they learned to be artists together.
I was thrilled at the breathless pace of her creative output, too— for much of the 70s, Smith was writing and drawing, showing her work in galleries, and giving iconic poetry readings at St. Mark’s Church in the Bowery. She worked a string of day jobs; she published rock criticism and hocked the LPs after; she lived on coffee and tins of sardines. She formed her band– the Patti Smith Group– and released four straight albums of watershed poetry-infused rock. She made good work. A good name.
And then, in 1980, she married her second great love, Fred “Sonic” Smith, and promptly fell off the face of the earth. She moved outside Detroit and spent over a decade raising her children and taking care of her family. She didn’t perform again for another sixteen years.
I had trouble reconciling the energy of Just Kids with this epic Pause. It seemed like a contradiction: How could you devote yourself to your work with the fervor she did and then…not do it?
I worried at this idea in the back of my mind as I did the laundry, the day job, the dishes; as I moved across the country and back. As my own Long Pause lengthened and stretched. I read M Train and re-read Just Kids. I returned to Horses and listened to it on a loop for a week one summer, finding it both familiar and new. I delighted in Smith’s daily photographs and remembrances on her Instagram, @thisispattismith.
And then I ran across this quote:
I have abandoned so many projects but in the ’80s when I left public life to be married and have real children [...] I had to find a way to simultaneously be a mother and wife [...] and still be true to myself as a writer. I woke up at 5 in the morning and wrote until 8. My children woke up at 9. I came to cherish that time because it’s a silent time. You go out and stars are just going out of the sky, the light is just coming up and no one is awake yet. I disciplined myself to still write early in the morning but I wrote novels, books of poetry, but I haven’t published anything from the ’80s and I wrote every single day.
“Patti Smith on the pathos and passion behind her latest writing.” McLeans, October 2015.
Smith’s children and the care they required, the daily work of washing their clothes and tending to them– the work of being a mom–was a part of her life as an artist as much as any other project she might have worked on. She was an artist because she chose to be; no one could tell her she wasn’t an artist anymore when she wasn’t performing.
Her life is cohesive to her. And yours is to you. What a gift.
One of the goals of The Long Pause is to look for the good in a Pause– what you learned or how your practice changed when you returned to creative work– and Patti Smith offers food for thought here as well:
When I left public life from ’80 to ’96, I didn’t do one live performance, but along with raising my children I was completely immersed in writing and studying. I was able to write Just Kids because of 16 years of intense practice – writing, rewriting and really honing my craft.
“‘I experience joy very easily’: Patti Smith on Springsteen, the climate fight and the meaning of punk.” The Guardian, March 2022.
She had two kids she loves dearly. She was present for them. And she pivoted her work into writing, and spent a decade and a half preparing herself to write a great book.
So here’s a question for you. Who is your model for a creative life? How about a Long Pause? I’d love to hear about it
You can subscribe to Patti Smith’s wonderful Substack here, where she shares lots of interesting tidbits, encouragements, and glimpses into her process:
NB: The image above is shared under a Creative Commons License.
Oh man. I think this might be my favourite post to date (and I was reading it whilst listening to "Because The Night" for extra oomph!).
Mic drop #1: "She was an artist because she chose to be; no one could tell her she wasn’t an artist anymore when she wasn’t performing."
Mic drop #2: "One of the goals of The Long Pause is to look for the good in a Pause."
The above is a perfect reminder of what to focus on anytime we try and beat ourselves up for taking a pause. When I think about all of the mountains I had to climb and all of the dragons I had to slay during my pause, I'm reminded of why I took it in the first place and just how important it was 💙