<< back to texts
<< back to CV.

A conversation between Ulf Lundin and Niclas Östlind

NÖ: The art of looking has for a long time - perhaps always - interested practioners in both the visual arts and literature. Within postmodernism this subject has also to a large degree been theoretically thematised. The gaze - the Other's, the male, the colonial etcetera - has been problematised and studied in many ways. The writer Paul Auster's and the photographer Sophie Calles's work and collaborations are one of the main examples of how the complex relationships between the observer and the observed are given form. Voyeurism is a loaded area surrounded by both desire and shame, perhaps this explains the fascination. Your project "Pictures of a Family" raises many questions that touch upon the relationship between the observer and the observed, between reality and fiction.
The series has often been interpreted as a story about alienation and a way of creating an identity of one's own, and also that the observer that is to say both the author and we the viewers of the completed work are the real main characters. This may seem contradictory but there is some truth in this despite the fact that the family portrayed are the photographer's real motive. Because the eye of the camera has, at the same time, both an intrusive and distancing effect one becomes aware of one's position as a viewer and one's self in relation to the represented family.
Another thing that has been mentioned is that you are not primarily interested in the personal. However that may be and whatever one actually means by "the personal" you are undoubtedly a part of the project. It would be interesting if you could tell me something about how, from your point of view, the work has changed over time. Being in this situation of observation and surveillance during the period of a year must have affected you a great deal on a personal level. Can you tell me anything about this and in what way your own feelings and experiences in connection with the work are expressed in the series of images.

UL: Even if you looked at all of the thousands of images I've taken of the family you wouldn't learn so much more about them. Of course, you can find out some things, but you have to fill in large gaps with your own expectations and predjudices. Of course, the greatest part of a person's life is something else than that which can be photographed. In this project it is, of course, important who he is, that I have a relationship to him, but at the same time the viewer doesn't know his name or the name of the city where he lives. I am not trying to tell the true story of this family - even if that were possible - instead I'm trying to get at something else.
It's difficult to say exactly how I was influenced or what I learned during the hours I waited outside the family's house. At the same time this time has been important for me. Some days it was really nice to put my time in their hands - they decided what we would do and I followed. Other days it was unbearable to stand and wait while nothing happened. When I photographed them I was forced to adapt to their pace, a pace that was very different from my own. Before I begin a new project I always imagine what it will feel like when I stand there and take photographs. I thought I had prepared myself for what it would be like, but it was still an incredibly powerful experience when I was there. My role as observer both fascinated and disgusted me. The first evening I stood in their garden and photographed the woman of the family through the living room window. She sat alone on the sofa three metres in front of me unaware of my presence.
There was something both exciting and frightening in a situation that I recognized from other times I'd photographed, although in this case it was much more obvious and apparent. I was also afraid that a neigh- bour would see me and wonder what I was up to. As the project progressed I was forced to accept my role. The neighbours probably didn't understand what I was doing, but in any case they accepted my presence. In the beginning I had hoped that I would become closer to the family, that I would be able to say some- thing about them that would have been impossible if I had photographed them in a more traditional way. But the longer I worked on the project the greater the distance between us became. The project was thrown back at me to a much greater extent than I had expected.

NÖ: If one disregards the format and the serial context, the photographs in "Pictures of a Family" have obvious similarities with failed amateur photographs, the ones that are usually disregarded when the film is developed at a one-hour lab. There are also, for obvious reasons, similarities with the images produced by the police, spies or others involved in surveillance operations. Despite the fact that the specific circumstances for the production of these type of images should have greatly influence the way they look one can still talk about a distinctive photo genre with a definite repertoire of characteristics. How do you regard your images' relationship to other genres and how important were the formal aspects in your choice of photographs to be included in the series?

UL: Of course the images look the way they do because I have decided that's how they should look. The technical "failings" that exist are meant to be there. For example, I've used high sensitive and coarse-grain film even when it wasn't necessary just to get the result I wanted. And even if the photographs are large their proportions are reminiscient of the images one finds in a family photo-album. They are also displayed in the exhibition almost like "snapshots" - they are unframed and hung a couple of centimetres from the wall. Their size is what one is used to in an art context, which contributes to that, to some extent, the family's everyday life is elevated to art. In almost all of the images there is something between me and the family, a hanging branch, a blurred fence. This depends partly on, as you say, the specific circumstances under which the images were produced, and also positions you and me as viewers standing outside looking in. I think that the viewers generally identify themselves with me as observer rather than with the family. I am not primarily interested in the decorative qualities of the aesthetic although I find the images beautiful. The mistakes and failings that are present in the images are an attempt to get past the surface in the images and instead focus on the story and the concept behind the work. I have even disregarded some of the images that were too aesthetically correct, images that one immediately likes but after a while they are nothing more than a beautiful composition.

NÖ: It is interesting that you emphasize the importance of the narrative and it is all too easy to think that the story would be broken if the individual photographs had a strong individual character. Contrary to "Pictures of a Family" your video works rarely have a narrative or any sequences that build up a drama in the traditional sense, instead you use video as a type of still image, which in one sense is to work against the specifity of the medium. So far, you have worked with photography, video and in certain cases, even sound. What are your thoughts on the relationship between the different forms of expression, how important is the medium for your work?

UL: Panning or zooming do not feature in any of my videos. There is not even sound in "Station". It is as you you say a type of still image although it changes with time. When it comes to medium, I do not decide in advance that my next project will be video or photography instead, I use quite simply the medium that best suits my idea. On the other hand I find freedom in relation to video because I am trained as a still image photographer. Sometimes it is nice not to have to deal with photo historical and technical knowledge and remain somewhat independent to the medium one is working with.

NÖ: Even though different media are involved there are strong connections in your work both on a visual level and from the point of view of content. How are the works connected to each other? Is it as straight forward that you create new work in a conscious dialogue with the older works? Your latest piece is a video entitled "Bless You". Can you elaborate on this and is it in any way related to your previous works?

UL: The idea for "Station" grew during my work with "Pictures of a Family". To come out from undercover felt both natural and right. It happened in pretty much the same way with the other works, one thing leads to another. The works do not deal with the same things but, of course, there are obvious points of contact between them. During the creative process there is no conscious dialogue between them, such a dialogue may possibly arise when they are exhibited together.
In all of my works I try to create a tension between the camera and that which is photographed, as in "Bless You". The camera has a central role in our society which interests me. Questions relating to this are present in all of my works: how we relate to the camera, the relationship between the observer and the observed, photography as an act of power, the photographer's responsibility and so on. All of my works deal with everyday motives, everyone has waited at a railway station as in "Station", spoken on the phone as in "Mobile" or sneezed as in "Bless You". At the same time "Bless You" differs a great deal from my previous work. For the first time I've videofilmed in my studio and asked people to come to me rather than me going to them. The model was asked to sit on a chair while I went out to an adjacent room. Their assignment was to sit alone in front of a video camera and try to sneeze. We follow these people's struggle in front of the camera, their anguish, perseverence and in some cases pride and happiness. One can say that the finished work is a series of portraits of people under pressure. The participants agreed to be filmed and thus had a certain amount of control over the situation even if their assignment and their expectation was to sneeze and thus lose control completely.

Niclas Östlind is curator of Gävle Konstcentrum, Sweden.
Translation by Karen Diamond.

<< back to texts
<< back to CV.