10 Questions with David Thomas Smith

Al-Tiba9 Art Magazine ISSUE17 | Featured Artist

David Thomas Smith is a visual artist who specializes in Post- Photographic Processes. David's work has been exhibited in several diverse locations around the world, from the Gaîté Lyrique in Paris to the Hyundai Motor Studio in Beijing. In 2017, David was nominated for one of photography's most prestigious awards, The Prix Pictet. David's work has also appeared in a variety of publications from Esquire, Russia, to Wired in the United States and anthologies such as Robert Shore's Post Photography - The Artist with a Camera.

www.david-thomas-smith.com | @david_thomas_smith

ARTIST STATEMENT

David Thomas Smith is a visual artist whose work interrogates the evolving relationship between technology, imagery, and the human experience. Engaging with Post-Photographic Processes, his practice explores how the digital realm reshapes our perception of reality, history, and memory.

Arecibo | Project Statement

Exploration is deeply ingrained in the make up of humankind. Our struggle is that of contact. The Arecibo message was broadcast into space with the unlikely aim of reaching out to extra-terrestrial life. The message was broadcast into space via frequency-modulated radio waves at a ceremony to mark the remodeling of the Arecibo radio telescope on 16 November 1974.

It was aimed at the globular star cluster M13, some 25,000 light years away. The "ones" and "zeros" contained information about the fundamentals of life on Earth. The total broadcast was less than three minutes.

Arecibo is a visual homage to the original message and a reflection on the birth of humanity, our growth, and evolution.

AL-TIBA9 ART MAGAZINE ISSUE17

INTERVIEW

Photography is central to your work. Why did you choose this medium, and what does it mean to you?

Photography has always captivated me. From an early age, I remember being enthralled with the imagery in the color supplements of Sunday newspapers. I would spend hours absorbing the vibrant and compelling stories captured in those images. It was as though the world could be distilled into a series of powerful moments frozen in time.
However, I ended up in photography completely by chance. When I was in my final year of high school, we had to complete an oral examination in Irish. This process involved a one-on-one conversation with an examiner about anything at all. Most people talked about the same things over and over—family, holidays, etc. During a practice round with my Irish teacher, Mr. Scanlon, I decided to try and steer the conversation in my favor, as I wasn't the best Irish student. I told a half-lie, claiming that I wanted to become a photographer. My thinking was that this unusual topic would dominate the entire exam, allowing me to fake my fluency.
Little did I know, my teacher remembered this. A couple of weeks later, a photographer named Patsy Toland from a charity gave a speech at our school about his work. Afterward, Mr. Scanlon introduced me to Patsy and told him that Iwas an aspiring photographer. Patsy asked if I had a portfolio, which I didn't. He then offered to help me make one to apply for college. I borrowed my dad's camera, which began a journey I feel fortunate to be on. 
I still find much of my journey to be surreal. While I'm not entirely sure of the meaning photography holds for me, I dofind a deeper connection to art as a whole, and photography serves as my chosen medium to engage with the world and hopefully communicate something worthwhile. 

Do you remember when you first approached photography? What led you to experiment with this medium? And how did you develop into the photographer you are today?

After finishing high school, I arrived at Sallynoggin College of Further Education to study Photography under Joe Sterling and Christine Redmond. Let me tell you, I was completely clueless. I had zero understanding of visual language and was honestly one of the worst students in the class. I made a lot of really bad work. But something about the darkroom, the alchemy of it, kept me going. I was discovering new things each day, and that discovery process was addicting enough to push through my failures.
Towards the end of the course, the photographer Rich Gilligan visited us. He had been a past student and had recently graduated from the Documentary Photography course in Newport, South Wales. Rich's lecture blew my mind—I remember thinking, "This is the coolest thing I've ever seen, and I want to be part of it."
For my final project, I made a photo book about the Shell to Sea Protests in the west of Ireland. At the time, Ireland had just discovered large natural gas reserves, and people were protesting against the selling off of these resources. I was a young teenage activist, and friends of mine were involved in the protests, so it was a natural subject for me. The book wasn't much, but it was enough to get me into the Documentary Photography course in Newport. I packed my bags and moved to South Wales for three years.
It was Newport that changed my world. The isolation from the traditional epicenters of the art world allowed us young practitioners to find our voices without the weight of expectation. Newport provided an environment where I could immerse myself in the tradition of documentary photography while being exposed to contemporary shifts in the medium. 
There was a tectonic shift in photography at that time—digital was taking over, Google and Facebook were becoming dominant forces, and traditional media was struggling. Witnessing the transition from analog to digital photography and seeing the rise of social platforms made me acutely aware of photography's evolving role—not just as an artistic tool but as a critical part of the digital narrative of our time. This awareness has deeply influenced my exploration of themes like digital memory and the intersection of technology with human experience. I 

Your work has been exhibited globally, from Paris to Beijing. How have these diverse cultural experiences influenced your artistic practice?

Having interacted with people from a multitude of cultures, I'm blown away by how the work speaks to them all. Maybe not in the same way, but it's a humbling experience to have someone engage with your work, especially when you come from a small island on the fringes of Western Europe.
There's a trait that I think is inherently Irish —perhaps it's post-colonial whiplash—but we're often surprised when people consider us worthy of cultural engagement, even though we often punch above our weight for such a tiny place.
One of the most inspirational experiences I ever had occurred when I was exhibiting at LABottega Gallery just outside of Florence. I was talking to an Italian artist who must have been in his 70s, and he told me something that stuck with me. He said, in English, there is no name for the space between an object and its shadow. I never forgot that, and it inspired me to make 'Suspended In a Sunbeam' years later. 
This sense of humility keeps me grounded in my work, constantly striving to make something meaningful despite the odds. Conversations like the one I had in Florence remind me how universal certain themes can be, even if we use different words or imagery to express them. Each cultural context adds another layer to my understanding, pushing me to think about the in-between spaces—not just in light and shadow, but in cultural exchange and perception. 

What role has your nomination for the Prix Pictet played in your career, and did it impact the direction of your work?

I wouldn't say it changed the direction of my work; if anything, it probably spurred me on. The Prix Pictet, being one of the most prestigious global awards in photography, felt like an affirmation that my work could stand alongside some of the best in the world. Things like that somehow make it all make sense. Any artistic practice can be a lonely path that'soften filled with self-doubt. Getting that kind of validation from your peers is a plethora of emotions that are difficult to describe. 

Your artist statement mentions exploring the digital realm's impact on reality and memory. How do you transform such abstract themes into visual art?

I wish I could tell you how my process works; honestly, I'm not entirely sure myself, other than it involves a lot ofmeditating on topics and joining the dots. I approach the world like a magpie, constantly picking up shiny pieces of information and collecting them together. These dots could be anything—from an interesting line in a book about digital culture to a fleeting visual seen on a street. It's often a mix of influences that I only realize fit together after much reflection.
The information I gather eventually finds its way into my work as I reflect on how these elements interact with each other. For instance, when exploring themes of digital memory, I might be inspired by a conversation on how we remember things differently today versus ten years ago, which then evolves into a visual metaphor in my imagery. It's a process of translating these abstract thoughts into symbols, colors, and compositions that can evoke the ideas I'm grappling with. Sometimes, it means manipulating an image to represent how memory distorts or layering elements to reflect the complexity of digital experiences. 

Can you walk us through your creative process when developing a new series? How does technology integrate into or transform your workflow?

The creative process is often haphazard and drawn out, where I need big breaks to meditate on the subject, theme, or visual. Yet sometimes, it's the complete opposite, and everything is done in a flurry of all-nighters. Technology plays a bigrole in both of these scenarios. Sometimes, digital tools allow me to step back and iterate slowly, experimenting with compositions or ideas over long stretches of time. Other times, technology helps me move quickly—using software to bring visual elements together almost instantaneously, making those bursts of inspiration feel more tangible.

You also mention working with Post-Photographic Processes. Could you explain these processes to our readers? What unique challenges do you face with these techniques?

Post-Photographic Processes refer to techniques that extend beyond the traditional boundaries of photography. For me, it means not only capturing an image but also manipulating, layering, or combining digital elements to challenge what a photograph can be. These processes are about questioning the nature of an image in the digital age—how much of what we see is real, and how much is a construct?
One of the unique challenges I face with Post-Photographic Processes is maintaining the emotional authenticity of the work while manipulating it digitally. In an age where we're constantly exposed to hyper-edited, synthetic imagery, it can be difficult to preserve a sense of truth or vulnerability in the final piece. I often find myself walking a fine line betweenenhancing the visual narrative and losing the genuine connection to the subject.
Another challenge lies in translating the work from the screen to a physical form. Colors, textures, and even the sense ofdepth can shift dramatically when an image is printed, especially when working with non-traditional techniques like projections or digital overlays. Each step requires meticulous attention to detail to ensure the final piece communicates the same idea as it did in its digital iteration.
Working with these processes also means embracing imperfection. Unlike traditional photography, where the image is seen as complete once it's captured, Post-Photographic work is inherently iterative. It often involves trial and error—experimenting with layers, textures, and edits until something clicks. That unpredictability can be both liberating and incredibly frustrating, but it's ultimately part of the journey that makes the final outcome rewarding.

Are there any new projects or concepts you're excited to explore in the future, particularly in relation toadvancements in digital technology?

Absolutely. I'm excited to revisit and expand my earlier project 'Anthropocene' with a new body of work tentatively called 'Anthropocene 2.' The idea is to capture the same locations from the original series, now transformed by time and human impact. I'm interested in using drone technology to add new perspectives that weren't possible when I first worked on 'Anthropocene.' This approach will help highlight the changes from above, providing a unique angle on environmental transformation that's central to the project.
I'm also developing a series of high-quality carpets based on my older Anthropocene prints. We're currently attempting to develop prototypes with a rug maker in Dubai. The concept of translating my imagery into tactile, physical forms intrigues me, especially in how it brings a sense of groundedness and permanence to work that has traditionally existed as a photographic medium. I'm considering using a combination of digital designs and handmade techniques to keep the authenticity intact while making the process more efficient.
In addition, I'm working on expanding 'Suspended In a Sunbeam' to include site-specific installations that feature projections within smoky environments to make the beams of light visible. Each iteration of this project will adapt to its space, and I want to use more immersive methods, such as creating rooms filled with light and smoke, that encourage viewers to navigate through and interact with the work more actively. I'm also thrilled to share that 'Suspended In a Sunbeam' will be shown in Dublin at The Library Project in 2025, which will be a fantastic opportunity to bring this work to an Irish audience.
Another project I'm excited about is 'An Act of Faith,' which was inspired by the Irish monks who faithfully recreated manuscripts by hand, specifically the Book of Kells. The Book of Kells is an illuminated manuscript, considered one of Ireland's greatest national treasures, created by Celtic monks around the 9th century. This project is still in its very early days and has a long way to go, but I want to echo that devotion by having robotic arms faithfully recreate my images by candlelight, questioning why we are driven to pass information on, and the idea of being devoted to a higher power. It also explores what it means to be human and if machines will gain real consciousness in the near future. This body of work will look at how people place faith in technology—whether in algorithms, social platforms, or even artificial intelligence—and how that impacts our sense of community and truth. 
I'm also planning a piece titled '敬畏天命 (Jìngwèi tiānmìng) – Reverence for the Mandate of Heaven,' involving imagery from the Hubble telescope. The idea is to take these iconic images of space, transform them into cylindrical forms, and color them blue, evoking a sense of a modern-day Ming vase. The painted forms on traditional Ming vases often depicted natural elements like clouds, mountains, and celestial motifs—symbols that were deeply connected to the heavens and the divine order. These designs represented humanity's desire to understand and connect with the cosmos, serving as a visual reflection of both earthly and spiritual realms. By reimagining these vases using imagery from the Hubble telescope, I want to create a bridge between historical depictions of the heavens and our current understanding of the cosmos. This concept also draws inspiration from the idea of O'Neill Cylinders—space habitats designed to simulate environments for human living—which connects the cosmos to a historical sense of craftsmanship. This project is an exploration of the crossover between ancient cultural artifacts and cutting-edge scientific imagery—bridging the past and the future through a reimagining of visual symbols.

And lastly, speaking of new technologies, how do you see your work and photography on a broader level evolve in the coming years? Do you think technologies like AI will significantly impact it?

If anyone says they know what's going to happen in the next ten years, they'd be lying. Humanity is on the cusp of greatchange. AI will significantly impact everything. As artists, all we can do is stay open to these possibilities—embrace the uncertainty, reflect on it, and make work that speaks to these pivotal moments. The questions surrounding AI and the unknown feed directly into my exploration of what it means to be human in the digital age. They challenge my ideas of memory, existence, and how technology reshapes our understanding of reality. Technology, including AI, will undoubtedly play a role in shaping the future of art, but it is our unpredictable human response to these changes that will ultimately define what art becomes.