JONATHAN SMITH AND THE BIG THINK ON WHEATPASTING

Jonathan Smith, Post Impressions, Untitled #2, (Blue, white), 2024, chromogenic print, sizes: 39x71”, 50x90”, 60x108”, limited editions.

Jonathan Smith’s new series, Post Impression, knocked our socks off. So much so that, during our studio visit, we decided we had to interview our dear friend to understand the new direction his work has taken. So, here it is. Bevin (who taps out our missives) sat down for a chat with Jon about his exploration of wheat paste poster culture around NYC. Jon has been capturing the complex layering and compression of wild posting by stripping context and examining them up close as they are installed and struck from the walls.

We have known Jon since 3walls’ earliest days. As we have said before, word of mouth rules: we were introduced to him by Macon’s son’s 4’s class teacher (um – that young lad is now a freshman in college). We showed work from his East West series in our original pop-up at Whitney’s house in 2011, along with the work of Nancy Hubbard and Alexandra Posen. Jon has been part of many firsts with us. He was also in our first collaborative show at The Curator Gallery in Chelsea (with several other 3walls artists). Jon led our first artist talk, on his Glaciers series, in 2016. We included his work at our first booth at the Art on Paper Fair (2018) and at the first (ok – and only) time we popped-up at ICFF at the Javits Center (2018). And, now, he is our first newsletter interview. 

But, before I start, I have to say, when the three of us arrived (ladies in our 50s) at the studio in the Brooklyn Navy Yard for our visit, the first thing we noticed was that Jon continues to have gorgeous wrinkle-free skin. We promptly barraged him with questions on that topic and, turns out, he’s just blessed.

Bevin Cline: I’d love to start at the beginning. Tell us, where did you grow up, Jon, and how did photography first enter your life?

 Jonathan Smith: I grew up in Kent, in the south east of England, a region dubbed the “Garden of England.” Although I was raised in what would be considered a suburban town, the surrounding countryside and coastline were deeply woven into my childhood experience. 

I was really fortunate to have wonderful art teachers from a young age, and spent as much time in the art department as possible. Around the age of fifteen, I was introduced to a makeshift darkroom my teacher had built inside a storage closet. We could only use it occasionally, but I vividly remember the magic of watching an image slowly appear in the developer tray. At that age I thought I would continue with painting; photography had surprised me, though. Once I started art school and had access to professional equipment, I began to experiment with different cameras and in the darkroom. I gradually drifted from painting toward photography, drawn to its immediacy and its ability to encapsulate experiences and ideas into a single frame.

BC: I had a makeshift darkroom in my childhood, too. My father used to turn the bathroom of our one-bathroom apartment into a dark room and hole himself up in there for long periods of time, sending me and my brother up to the neighbors or the diner around the corner to pee!  Clearly, you had some important art teachers early on. Who do you think were the most influential people you have met in your career thus far and how have those people impacted you?

JS: I’ve been so lucky to meet many generous and supportive people throughout my career, but two artists were especially pivotal in my early years.

While finishing my degree in the UK, I interned with the remarkable artist Susan Derges. She encouraged me to move to New York to continue my studies at the International Center of Photography (ICP), an opportunity I wouldn’t have discovered without her guidance. Working alongside her revealed that being an artist is not simply a profession, but a way of life. That insight changed everything for me.

That decision led to a chance encounter with Joel Meyerowitz. On a visit to New York to explore the ICP, I spotted him on Broadway with his Leica. At the time, I was reading his book Bystander - what a coincidence! I followed him into Dean & DeLuca, introduced myself, and to my surprise he invited me to join him for coffee. We spoke at length about photography, and he generously reviewed the small portfolio I happened to be carrying. Before we parted, he handed me his card and told me to reach out if I moved to New York.

I did. After interning with him and completing my studies at the ICP, Joel offered me a position in his studio. Over the next eight years, editing and printing for major exhibitions and publications, I received an education that extended far beyond technique. His mentorship shaped me profoundly, giving me the foundation and confidence to fully commit to my own work.

 BC: Remarkable, you saw him while you were reading his book! I imagine you dashing after him with it tucked under your arm. Do you think you would have said hi to him if you hadn’t been reading the book?

JS: No, I wouldn’t have recognized him at all. This was around 2000, and we weren’t living online the way we are now. There was no googling him on my phone… I didn’t even have a phone! In the back of his book, there was a headshot from the 1980s; he still had hair in that photo, and by the time I saw him on Broadway, he had a shaved head, so it wasn’t an immediate recognition. What caught my eye first was the red dot on his camera. I knew it was a Leica—the classic street photographer’s camera—and that made me look twice. Then it suddenly clicked and I thought, 'Wow, it has to be Joel Meyerowitz!' Funny, I remember emailing him when I was back in the UK thinking, 'Oh, this email thing is actually useful!’ Such different times.

BC: I must start introducing myself to way more people! Ok, on to questions about your new body of work, Post Impression. For this series you are photographing wild postings around New York City in various states of transition. You’ve spent so much of your career photographing expansive natural landscapes. Was there something in particular that sparked your interest in these layered urban “Post No Bills” walls?

JS: Photographing the natural world has taken me to places like Iceland and Patagonia, among wild rivers, waterfalls, and living glaciers that feel inherently awe-inspiring. In those environments, beauty exists independently, shaped by forces far beyond us.

What drew me to the “Post No Bills” walls was the realization that these urban surfaces, in their continual state of layering and erosion, can be just as arresting as a mountain summit. Though entirely man-made, they carry an unexpected rawness, a fragility that feels both organic and fleeting.

BC: I love that you use the word erosion. When Whitney, Macon and I visited your studio and first saw this work, you described the walls almost like geological formations — layers building up, breaking down, and reforming. Something that seemed like such a departure for you suddenly felt right in your wheelhouse. Did you see that connection to landscape immediately, or did it emerge over time?

 JS: At first, no. I wasn’t thinking directly about those connections. The walls themselves were what captivated me, and I was just following an impulse to photograph them, asking myself questions along the way. Those correlations came up in the editing and printing process. I started noticing recurring forms and patterns much like in nature, and began seeing the walls as landscapes in their own right. The stratified layers of paper, typography, and pigment; forming a kind of contemporary geology. Where my more traditional landscape work explores natural forces shaping the land over millennia, this series observes a parallel process of physical weathering and human activity, compressing time into visible, tactile layers on the city’s surface.

 BC: It’s the same forces, right – nature and man’s intervention? I see them in inverse proportion in your old and new work: In the landscapes, it’s more overtly nature sculpting, and man’s intervention is in the background; we all know what we are doing to the landscapes. For the wild postings, it’s first man’s intervention – the putting up and scraping off and then what time and weather does to the posters as well. Do you see that at all, or have I just gone on a bender? 

JS: No, you haven’t gone on a bender, you’re absolutely right! With these wild posting walls, human intervention is front and center: posters are layered, torn down, covered, and replaced, and that deliberate activity defines the work. Weather and chance — rain, wind, sunlight, the rhythms of the city — follow afterward, shaping what humans have already created. In my landscapes, nature dominates, and human presence is subtle; here, it’s the opposite.

BC: There’s something fascinating about taking a small fragment of a wall and enlarging it to a monumental scale. What happens for you when these details become so large? Does scale change how you experience them? We see you use the same technique in some of your previous series with ice and streams. Were you aware of this connection as you were first making these images?

JS: The shift from the minute to the monumental was intentional early on. I’m photographing with a 100-megapixel medium-format camera, which allows for an incredible amount of detail; when these fragile surfaces are printed at a large scale, they undergo a perceptual transformation. What might normally be dismissed as incidental becomes immersive and atmospheric.

This is very much an extension of my earlier work in Iceland, where streams and rivers often lost their sense of scale and became almost abstract. In both cases, the viewer is invited to reconsider what they think they are observing.

 BC: I’m so glad you have brought up abstraction. It’s super important in your work. These new images, like some of those in other series of yours, hover right on the edge of abstraction. Can you tell us a little about this?

JS: Photography, if you start thinking about it, is really an abstraction in itself anyway; it’s a fraction of a second, cropped, framed and edited into a final single perspective. I’m simply pushing that condition further with this work. Here, the emphasis shifts to the visual language of color, form, and texture. By leaning into abstraction, the images move beyond their literal subject and away from our everyday assumptions. They invite the viewer to see something familiar with fresh eyes, freed from preconceived notions and open to a more immersive experience.

 BC: Since beginning this series, has the way you see New York changed? Do you walk through the city differently now?

JS: I remember coming across a wall that had been pasted over and stripped back many times. There was so much color, texture, and rhythm that it was electrifying. I had very little time that day, and I said to myself-  I’ll come back tomorrow and dive in. The next day I arrived, and the whole wall was stripped back to nothing - gone! The city is in constant flux, histories being erased and rewritten daily. In many ways, these walls are microcosms of New York itself: dense, chaotic, vibrant, and endlessly renewing. 

BC: What do you hope viewers feel when they encounter this work for the first time — recognition, surprise, maybe even a bit of disorientation? Do you think your viewer recognizes the subject immediately, or do you anticipate the realization of what they are looking at, a kind of a-ha moment? 

 JS: I hope viewers feel drawn in. If someone pauses and truly spends time with the work, that in itself is meaningful. There is often a moment of recognition when abstraction resolves, and the viewer realizes what they’re looking at. I’m interested in that shift, that subtle recalibration of perception. Of course, everyone brings their own associations and interpretations, which I find fascinating. Ideally, the work continues to unfold over time, revealing new details and nuances the longer one lives with it.

BC: This series rewards a long look; there is so much to discover in these images. Ok, last question for you, Jon, does Post Impression feel like a departure for you, or more like a continuation of the same questions you’ve always been asking — just in a new landscape?

JS: It feels like a natural evolution. While the setting has shifted from remote wilderness to urban surface, the underlying inquiry remains the same: how light interacts with material, how time leaves its trace, and how photography can crystallize complexity into something reflective and enduring. Whether I’m photographing a glacier or a city wall, my aim remains the same: to create work that holds a quiet sense of contemplation and a lasting presence.

If you have questions about Jon’s work or would like additional information, reach out!

It's spring pop-up time! Thanks to our lovely friends, Katie Smith Roberts and Marianna McClellan, we’ll be back at their fabulous spot, The Delta (210 Court St, Brooklyn), from May 5-10 with work by two new-to-3walls spectacular Brooklyn-based painters, Nicole Allen and Emily Berger. The pop-up party will be on May 5 from 6:30-8:30 (in honor of Cinco de Mayo, we are considering serving up skinny margaritas with our potato chips and reliably ordinary white wine). It’s going to be fun. See you there!

Don’t be shy, we're here to help you find art you love.

Bevin, Whitney and Macon