It was two in the afternoon when I stepped into the lobby of my Shibuya hotel, deliberately early for my meeting with Matthew Jordan Smith. I had been in Tokyo for just a few days—a birthday gift to myself at forty-seven—immersing in the city’s creative pulse. I’d explored the street art scene, discovered hidden coffee shops, and spent an unforgettable evening at Kobayashi-san’s JBS (Jazz Blues Soul) Bar. I lost myself in his vast vinyl collection and masterful selections of rare B-sides and classics.
But this meeting was different. This wasn’t just another tourist experience; it was a chance conversation with one of photography’s modern masters—a man whose images of Oprah, Halle Berry, and Aretha Franklin had become visual touchstones in American culture.
Matthew arrived punctually, camera in hand. There was no pretense, no entourage—just a warm smile and firm handshake from a fellow creator. Within minutes, we were walking through the animated streets of Shibuya, weaving through construction barriers and navigating escalators, our conversation flowing as naturally as the crowds around us.
“So can you tell us where we are and who you are?” I asked, setting up the audio recording for the podcast. His response came without hesitation.
“I’m Matthew Jordan Smith. I’m a photographer. We are in Shibuya. We’re in Tokyo, Japan,” he introduces himself, the simplicity of his statement masking the extraordinary journey that brought him here.
Listen to Our Conversation
Brooklyn to Tokyo: A Photographer’s Journey
Smith’s story begins far from Tokyo’s neon landscape. “My father turned me on to photography, and at the time, it was just like a hobby,” he explains as we pause to let a group of schoolchildren pass. “I’m from Brooklyn, New York, originally. Grew up in South Carolina. After high school, went to art school in Atlanta, and then from there, went back to New York. And New York was where everything started for me.”
That beginning would blossom into one of the most distinguished careers in contemporary portrait photography. But Smith’s path wasn’t linear or predictable. Like many creatives, his journey required adaptation and evolution.
“As a creative, it doesn’t stay the same way your whole life or career,” he says. “It’s going to go up and down. You’re going to have pivots. You’ll see things change. You’ll see new evolutions, and you have to evolve with it. That’s the great thing about being creative because you learn how to pivot and see things that nobody else sees first.”
We duck into a side street, momentarily escaping Shibuya’s sensory overload. Smith stops to photograph me against a sticker-covered old-school phonebook, seamlessly transitioning from subject to creator. It’s clear that after decades in the business, the camera remains an extension of himself rather than merely a tool.
The Celebrity Connection
One cannot discuss Smith’s work without acknowledging his remarkable portfolio of celebrity portraits. He laughs with genuine modesty when I mention seeing “pretty much everyone I ever grew up watching” on his website.
“When I first started my career, I had no dreams about doing celebrity work at all,” he admits. “I just wanted to do fashion beauty in the very beginning.”
The pivot toward celebrity portraiture came unexpectedly. “An editor saw my work and said, ‘I’d like for you to shoot a cover of this person.’ And it was Halle Berry.”
That assignment led to a cascade of others: Vanessa Williams, then Oprah Winfrey. Each portrait opened doors to new relationships and commissions, building a reputation that would eventually earn him the trust of icons like Whitney Houston, Michael Jordan, and Aretha Franklin.
What distinguishes Smith’s celebrity work isn’t technical perfection—though that’s undoubtedly present—but the authentic connection he establishes with his subjects. “It’s definitely about making that connection with your client,” he explains. “You have this great day, and if you do a great job, hopefully, all those pictures are going to come out with this energy from that connection.”
The Whitney Houston Moment
As we continue our walk, Smith recalls one particularly memorable shoot—the cast of “Waiting to Exhale,” which featured Whitney Houston, Angela Bassett, Loretta Devine, Lela Rochon, and author Terry McMillan.
“The shoot took, like, two or three months to put together,” he recalls. “The shoot changed locations, like, three times. It was in New York. It was in LA. We ended up shooting in San Francisco in a private studio, like, going into this shoot… down an alleyway, and they had security guards everywhere.”
When Houston arrived first, she approached Smith’s assistants and asked who the photographer was. Upon learning it was Smith, she remarked, “Oh, that’s different”—a telling comment on the rarity of Black photographers in major editorial work at that time.
But what happened next revealed Houston’s spirit: “She walks up to me. She says, ‘So where’s your music?’ And back then, I carried this big, thick case of CDs on all my shoots. And she walks over, I show my music, and she starts going through all my CDs. She’s like, ‘You know what, brother? We’re gonna get along just fine.'”
Throughout the shoot, Houston appointed herself DJ, periodically running off set to change the music—a detail that speaks volumes about both her character and Smith’s approach to creating comfortable environments for his subjects.
At day’s end, after completing the required shots, Smith suggested one final pose: “Ladies, I want to do this one more shot. I’m gonna do a shot of everybody just hugging, close your eyes, and just think about what it felt like to end the movie.”
That spontaneous image—five Black women embracing, eyes closed in a moment of shared triumph—would become one of his most iconic photographs.
“I love that picture so much,” Smith says. “The feeling in the room at that moment, having all these sisters together, it was like you were at church… Nobody wanted to go. Nobody wanted to leave.”
The Queen of Soul: Aretha Franklin
As we navigate through another rhythmic street in Shibuya, our conversation turns to one of Smith’s most significant professional relationships: his years photographing Aretha Franklin. Surprisingly, the connection began with an honest question that would lead to a remarkable friendship.
“I started shooting Aretha in 2004,” Smith recalls. “As a gift after the shoot, I gave her my book, ‘Sepia Dreams.’ The book featured 50 celebrities. She looks through it and says, ‘Oh, why am I not in this book?’ So I’m put on the spot and tell her, ‘Miss Franklin, I’m so sorry, but I promise you, in the future, I’m going to fix that.’ That was the beginning of our friendship, and I shot her until she passed.”
This relationship was unique in Smith’s extensive career. “She was the only client in my entire career who would call me,” he says with evident fondness. “She wanted to talk to just me directly. Sometimes, she called just to talk on the phone about a TV show she was watching. Or she called to ask, ‘What do you think about this name for this album cover?’ It was just a wonderful friendship.”
Smith notes another of Franklin’s particularities: “She doesn’t like to hear anything but her music. So I made my own list of music that I played on every single shoot – all my favorite Aretha Franklin songs.”
He then shares a moment that captures Franklin’s humor and commanding presence. During one photo session, Franklin began to sing along with her favorite music.
“She’s like, lost in the music. Now, I start singing along because it’s, like, my favorite song. I’m singing along—I wasn’t that loud—but I’m singing along. And she stops singing, looks at me, and says, ‘Jordan baby, don’t sing,’ just like that.”
Smith laughs, recalling the stunned silence that followed. “And then everybody busts out laughing, including Aretha. And I’m so embarrassed in the moment, but because she’s laughing, I’m still shooting her, getting all these great images.”
This wealth of personal experiences and images eventually led to “Aretha Cool,” Smith’s tribute book published in March of 2024.
“I wanted to do a book that was a tribute to her, that gave her respect, that was beautiful,” he explains. “When she passed, I felt like there were the movies out there, there’s other stuff out there, but all those things were out there before I met her. That part of her life wasn’t covered. And I wanted to do a book that showed the beauty of that moment, those last years of her and then tell stories about what I experienced being with her.”
The book is meticulously crafted, with fold-out sections and careful attention to presentation details—influences Smith attributes to his time in Japan. “I did two versions of the book. I did a book that’s a collector’s item, one of 100. That one was definitely influenced by Japan.”
From Franklin, Smith learned invaluable lessons about authenticity and self-advocacy. “Number one is to stand up for yourself no matter what. If you see an interview with Aretha, she’s gonna tell you exactly what she feels. She’s not gonna hold punches.”
Faith and Personal Projects: The Soul of Creativity
Our conversation turns deeper as we find a quieter moment amid Shibuya’s energy. Smith speaks of two things that have sustained his creative life: faith and personal projects.
“Starting my day off by thanking God. Before I do anything else,” he says when I ask what’s become important to him. “Thanking God that I woke up today, that I could breathe today, that I could drink a glass of water today and swallow today because that’s not given.”
This spiritual foundation isn’t performative—it’s integral to his creative process. He shares a story about Franklin spontaneously pausing during a photoshoot in Times Square to offer thanks. “That was her thanking the Creator, thanking God for maybe her talent, for being able to do what she’s doing, giving her another day, even though she was fighting cancer.”
Alongside faith, Smith emphasizes the essential role of personal projects—work created not for clients but for one’s own creative nourishment. His first major personal project, “Sepia Dreams,” featured interviews and portraits of 50 successful Black artists discussing their journeys and challenges.
“When you are working as a photographer, many of us don’t see it as a job. It is part of your life,” he explains. “The biggest thing for me in my life and as a photographer is that I must always create personal work because it feeds my soul.”
These self-initiated projects have repeatedly sustained him through industry downturns. “‘Sepia Dreams’ came out a month after 9/11—the worst timing for a book. But that personal project kept me busy, gave me a lot of press at one of the worst times I can imagine.”
The Tokyo Chapter
We pause on a quiet side street, a momentary respite from Shibuya’s constant motion. It seems appropriate to discuss Smith’s most significant life pivot: moving to Tokyo.
“I came here to visit the first time back in 1999,” he recounts. “And then I came back to visit, I kid you not, over a period of, like, 15 years, at least a dozen times. Every time I wanted to stay longer, I saw more. And I’m like, ‘You know what? It’s my favorite city in the world. I’m gonna move here.’ So 2016, I moved.”
The transition wasn’t simple. “I moved my archive—I’ve shot film for a long time. Sold everything I have, like, starting all over again.”
His eyes lit up when I asked what had drawn him to Tokyo. “What I love about living in New York is it’s the same thing here but on steroids. You walk down the street and you’re inspired by everything around you.”
This creative freshness seems to have reinvigorated his work, influencing everything from his photography to his approach to book design, as evident in “Aretha Cool.”
Lessons in Life and Creativity
As our afternoon winds toward its conclusion, I ask Smith what he considers his most important lessons—professionally and personally.
He pauses thoughtfully before answering: “The biggest lesson in my life is to have faith. When things around you seem like they’re falling apart, that’s been my biggest lesson in my career and life: to have faith.”
But he quickly clarifies that faith isn’t passive waiting: “If you’re not doing some kind of work toward that, it’s not faith. Faith comes with work.'”
This perspective resonates deeply with me. “My friend Carlos and I had a conversation a week ago,” I share. “He said, ‘My father used to say, God don’t cut no wood.’ God will give you all the wood you need, but you gotta do the work.”
Smith nods emphatically. “You gotta cut the wood.”
As we prepare to part ways, I’m struck by how this chance meeting has enriched my Tokyo experience. What began as a professional interview has evolved into something more meaningful—a conversation between two creators about the things that truly matter: faith, purpose, perseverance, and the courage to follow one’s creative vision.
Smith’s journey from Brooklyn to celebrity photographer to Tokyo transplant embodies what’s possible when talent meets determination. But more importantly, our afternoon together has reinforced that behind every celebrated image is a human being—someone with doubts, triumphs, and an uncompromising commitment to growth.
As we exchange final handshakes and promises to stay in touch, I’m reminded of something Smith said earlier about personal projects: “You have to have a personal project… even though it was very hard, and all my books were hard to produce and put together, and all of them, at one point, I want to stop and give up.” Yet he persevered with each one, pushing through doubt and difficulty until the vision was complete.
It’s this willingness to persist even when the path forward seems unclear that has defined Smith’s journey. In his case, that persistence has created not just a remarkable body of work but a life rich with unexpected connections and possibilities. And for me, taking that small leap of faith to reach out to a photographer I admired resulted in something I couldn’t have planned: an afternoon of shared wisdom with a fellow creative through the streets of Tokyo—living proof of what happens when you follow your instincts and do the work.
Buy Aretha Cool: Amazon Link and Follow @matthewjordansmith on Instagram
