Magazine covers with photography shot by Smith. Photo: Nikki Smith
In the dynamic landscape of outdoor adventure and artistry, one name stands out: Nikki Smith. In 2019, fueled by a fervent desire for inclusivity, she birthed Open Aperture, an innovative annual photography clinic meticulously designed to elevate the voices of underrepresented groups in outdoor photography. A trailblazer in her own right, Smith, who publicly embraced her identity as a trans woman in 2018, recognized the stark lack of representation in the outdoor realm—a critical impetus for her courageous decision to step into the spotlight. With a palette overflowing with talents—from rock and ice climbing to photography—Smith deftly balances her artistic pursuits with teaching, guiding, and scouting new climbing routes, all while cultivating her next literary adventure in the climbing community.
In a captivating dialogue with Matador Network, Smith unfurls her journey, reflecting on her multifaceted advocacy, her evolution from a passionate artist to a revered climbing photographer, the pressing need for diversity in outdoor narratives, and the triumphs and tribulations she faced as she soared to world-class climbing heights—despite her very palpable fear of heights.
Matador: Let’s unfurl the canvas of your passions. Who is Nikki Smith?
Smith: At my core, I am an artist and educator deeply immersed in a myriad of creative expressions—photography, illustrations, graphic design, painting, you name it. The educator in me strives to impart these skills whenever possible. I’ve donned the hat of a climbing guide since the late 1990s, using guidebooks and immersive experiences in nature to share my profound passions with others. Yet, my existence is a tapestry woven from diverse threads—photography alone doesn’t sustain me financially. The world of climbing photography can be quite modest in its rewards, so I juggle various roles. I pen climbing guidebooks while constantly researching for new editions, always seeking unexplored terrains, scouting potential climbs that may grace my next book.
Matador: What kindled your dual passions for climbing and photography, and how did they intertwine?
Smith: My first brush with climbing occurred at 16, shaded by the fear of heights. Rappelling had been a dreadfully daunting experience, yet the allure of camaraderie compelled me to join friends for a climb. The moment I tied in and ascended the route, a profound silence enveloped me—my inner turmoil dissipated, and I was enveloped in a liberating serenity. I had dabbled in various outdoor activities, but nothing resonated quite like that. My father, an amateur photographer, nurtured my artistic inclinations, while my mother encouraged crafts—despite their worries about the ‘femininity’ of my interests, I cherished those moments with my dad, camera in hand.
During my college days, my focus shifted towards climbing photography, but an unfortunate accident—blowing two finger joints during bouldering—derailed my climbing for months. I seized the opportunity to delve deeper into photography, transforming my frustration into creativity.
Matador: How did you transform these passions into a thriving career?
Smith: My initial foray involved submitting work predominantly to magazines, driven by the belief that a magazine’s name lent credibility to one’s portfolio. While juggling jobs at a climbing gym and guiding, I cultivated connections. A pivotal moment arrived when a climbing company embraced my photography, eventually designating me as their primary photographer—a role that flourished alongside freelance projects. I gleaned invaluable insights on the specific visual requirements to fulfill brand needs, honing my craft in tandem with market demands.
Matador: What triggered your decision to publicly embrace your transgender identity?
Smith: At that juncture, I had already secured sponsorships and established a name in the climbing community, armed with five published guidebooks and photographs in circulation. I grappled with the monumental decision: remain hidden or risk exposure. Compounding this was my desire to find community, to foster connection among trans climbers. Visibility seemed imperative, yet how it unfolded wasn’t entirely within my control—life had thrust roles upon me that diverged from my envisioned path.
Climbing, while often heralded as an accepting sport, hasn’t fully achieved true representation across the board. I’ve encountered numerous narratives claiming climbing as one of the most inclusive sports, and indeed, strides have been made—particularly in women’s participation. Yet, the disparity persists, underscoring the imperative for continued growth.
Matador: Did you harbor concerns that coming out might jeopardize your sponsorships and career?
Smith: Undoubtedly, the initial anxiety was palpable—this hesitation lingers still. The fallout from recent incidents involving trans representation, particularly in the wake of certain ad campaigns, has cast a shadow on visibility for marginalized individuals in various realms, including the outdoors.
Matador: Share the essence of Open Aperture. What does it represent, and why is it vital?
Smith: My journey at festivals often involved teaching quick photography sessions, but I aspired for something deeper—a mentorship program that addressed the glaring absence of diverse voices in climbing photography. I approached Mountain Hardwear with my vision, and thus Open Aperture was born. Each year, we provide six scholarships, welcoming participants from diverse skill levels rather than solely established photographers.
We incorporate classroom sessions and hands-on workshops, exploring framing, storytelling, and the artistry of visual narratives. The sessions feature industry editors who guide participants on crafting editorial submissions and pitching their work. We aim for empowerment without ownership—participants retain rights over their creations, ensuring they are compensated appropriately when their work is featured.
The program fosters ongoing mentorship, interwoven with community connections that have often continued beyond the initial engagement.
Shooting at a recent Open Aperture clinic. Photo: Nikki Smith
Matador: Why is it critical to amplify diversity both in front of and behind the camera?
Smith: Observing the outdoor recreation demographic reveals that over 30% of participants identify as non-white, and climbing is experiencing a substantial shift towards gender parity—approaching a near 50-50 split in gym settings and steadily evolving outdoors. The queer community’s presence is steadily advancing too, yet the imagery in outdoor brands and leadership remains starkly unrepresentative.
Repeatedly, I’ve faced baffling miscommunications in interviews with journalists unaware of trans experiences. This disparity highlights not just an issue of visibility but of understanding—brands express a desire for diverse photos, yet the representation within their photographer networks seldom reflects that ambition. The same privileged voices often dominate outdoor narratives.
Consider events like the Red Bull Rampage—you wouldn’t entrust coverage to an NYC fashion photographer; you’d seek specialists in that sphere. I endeavor to cultivate connections to build a more inclusive community within this specialized realm.
Matador: Living in Utah, and given your extensive engagement in ice climbing, how has climate change reshaped your experiences and work?
Smith: My documentation of ice climbing dates back to 2003, including meticulous photographic records that chart annual changes in particular climbs. The alterations I’ve observed are staggering—a drastic shift in access and safety. One notable ascent, the Great White Icicle above Salt Lake, once cherished for its dependability, has become unpredictable since 2014, often yielding inconsistent conditions.
In Utah, where we’re touted for having “the greatest snow on Earth,” the frustration is palpable. The repercussions of climate change loom large, casting shadows over careers intertwined with snow and ice—there are significant climbs that may vanish permanently, underscoring the urgent need for conscientious environmental stewardship as we navigate the shifting landscapes of our passions.
An essay penned by Smith on the importance of representation. Photo: Nikki Smith
