Rodney Smith

Rodney smith is a modest man with eclectic sensibilities. He can wear an ascot without appearing pretentious. He proclaims himself to be a closet optimist. He believes modernism took a wrong turn at the wrong time. He thinks Freud saved his life. He graduated Yale. He lives in a wooded enclave in Snedens Landing just close enough to Manhattan to meet an editor for lunch at a moment's notice, but far enough away to mollify his disdain for city living. He loves books. Paper. And printed matter. He wrestles with big Ideas and references Wittgenstein and Plato as if he saw them just yesterday. He's tweedy. Never needy. Proud. Not loud. He's a perfectionist. Workaholic. Worry wart and fuss budget. He won't stop what he's doing until he's satisfied that it couldn't be done any better. He's adamantly analog. Only shoots film. Never uses special effects. And knows the darkroom like the back of his hand. His work is outside of time. He creates worlds whose logic is his own. He's old school with a twist. A landscape photographer. Who places people in landscapes. A realist who puts dreams onto paper. A man who is kind, generous and humorous. A thinking man's man in a bespoke suit with an eye that sees the world in a way you or I will only see it if it's in the form of one of his photographs.