For this edition of Take 10 Press Conversations, we sat down with Erik Viklund, an artist whose work spans photography, writing, and experimental publishing. Erik’s practice is deeply rooted in exploring the transient nature of time, the tension between image and text, and the serendipitous connections that emerge through open-ended processes. In this interview, we discuss his publication ässe somrtid, his inventive use of materials like travertine dust, and his collaborative approach to book-making. Erik’s reflections offer a compelling glimpse into the nuances of self-publishing and the delicate balance between narrative, material, and experimentation.

Alberto: Hej Erik, I’d like to start this interview by talking about ässe somrtid, the publication you donated to the library. I’ve spent time with your work, and what stands out to me is the intertwining of stories and a peculiar perception of time - parallel narratives unfolding simultaneously, yet with subjects that seem far apart. There’s also a sense of ephemerality, of transience. Maybe that’s a good starting point?

Erik: Hey, thanks for wanting the kind words and the invite to this interview! Well, ässe somrtid actually started with writing, which was new for me. For many years, text felt like the opposite of what I wanted to do. Working mainly with images, I used to think that images was magic and text was... definitive, explanatory. But when I made the book Vännernas Arena in 2020, I found a new approach to text. It didn’t have to describe everything or remove tension, it could hold tension, it could be image. So with ässe somrtid, I wanted to take that further and create a book with these images and memories expressed only in letters. It was interesting to think about how the places and events I was writing about might appear like photographs in the reader's mind. And when I was done with that, photography became interesting to me again hehe. So then I tried to deepen the thoughts I had explored in text through photography, and this rather complicated process ended with a pretty standard-looking zine: 48 pages of images and text, hehe.

A: So it shifted back to a more visual approach?

E: Exactly. But that process, going back and forth, took over two years, it's important for me to let time shape things, to see how the work settles and resonates with life.

A: That makes sense. There’s also a sense of serendipity in your work, where coincidences align in meaningful ways. It feels investigative, almost like a detective process.

E: Yeah, that’s true, I guess. I don’t usually have a clear idea or concept when I start. I rarely have ideas, actually. I believe in grinding on and keeping the work open to the world - things just evolve from that over time, adding layers, and this discovery, seeing what happens to the work over time, is what keeps the process interesting for me.

A: And that openness reflects in your work, too. I remember when you sent Ässe Somrtid to Take 10 Press as a library contribution. I recall reading the intriguing anecdotes on your website about that book, like the story of “mummy brown”, a pigment made from ground mummies. It was fascinating and disturbing, tied to moral questions too. That story reminded me of Gensides de Siktbara, a recent book where you used travertine powder to produce your images. Can you talk a bit about the book?

E: With Gensides de Siktbara, I wanted to explore photography’s connection to entropy. In a short timespan, photos freeze time, but over a longer span, they’re just like any other material - part of the same cycle as the photographer and their body. I was curious whether I could work from those ideas visually, not just think and write about them.



A: And the connection to Rome?

E: When I went to Rome, I had this naïve idea of making a book about time, inspired by an earlier visit to the city when I had this experience of expanded time and history. But after some research, I realized that that feeling was shaped by a decade-long plan by the fascist regime of the 1930s to make Rome feel eternal and monumental. So, I thought it would be interesting to create something that opposed that epic narrative - something tied to living people and to the present, something ephemeral, and marble became my way into that.

A: It’s such a compelling experience going through the pages. You can almost see the dust moving across them, creating a ghostly atmosphere. I also loved the unconventional printing technique. How did that process come about?

E: It’s actually similar to screen printing. I apply the image as glue onto the paper and then dust the powdered travertine on top. I tap the paper to remove the excess. The image is fragile, but stays on the paper well, but if you wipe it with a wet cloth its gone.

A: And the travertine dust - where did you source it?

E: From a factory near Rome. Travertine isn’t as clean as white marble, for example. It has a grit to it that I like; it reflects the character of Rome nicely. Initially I even thought about physically scraping dust from the statues and pillars of the city.

A: That sounds like a quick way to get into trouble!

E: Exactly! But just around the same time I read in the news that someone got arrested and fined for scratching their initials into a wall at the Colosseum, which didnt sound so criminal to me, but it made me avoid that route..

A: I’d also like to talk about your last riso-printed publication, Ingen Utgrävning, which was released as an exhibition catalogue for your show at Kungsbacka Konsthall. It’s a beautiful mix of photography, graphic symbols, and design. I also noticed you’re not afraid to reuse your images across different projects, which is sometimes uncommon for photographers.

E: Thanks! No, I don’t see a problem with it.

A: I feel it creates a thread of coherence in your practice, a way to connect parallel stories that might otherwise feel disconnected. In a way, it also ties into the concept of entropy you mentioned earlier. In several of your publications, I noticed that you collaborated with Heikki Kaski. How important is collaboration for you, especially when it comes to graphic design?



E: It’s very important. Heikki is a good friend, brutally honest and he looks at my work in ways I would never consider, and working on Ingen Utgrävning was like a jam session. We didn’t have a clear plan when we started, but we had my images, one week, and a risograph. I consider Ingen utgrävning almost as a recording of that jam session. I had also been in contact with the Swedish poet and researcher Anna Blennow. She has been writing from and about Rome for many years and I like her work a lot. I contacted her and she wrote these poems that are now part of the book… I mean, sometimes text and images live their separate lives in books, but her text just brought the images more out to the light, which i am happy about.

A: That really comes through in the publication. It feels like a visual journey, almost like improvisation.

E: Cool, yeah. I think that’s a nice thing with self-publishing. You can experiment and riff on ideas, then sell it the next day and move on.

A: Can you tell me more about your process of working with books? Why do you still choose this medium?

E: I don’t know... I just like working with books. It's also such a hard thing to do, so I never get bored with it. The relationship with the viewer is also easier to handle with books i think.

A: What is it about exhibitions that feels different to you?

E: It’s hard to explain, but they don’t feel like home to me. There are all these layers - architecture, institutions, landlords, offices. It’s a whole system. There’s something about constructing a public experience that is further away from the core of my work, if you know what i mean.

A: Have you had any memorable experiences with your books?

E: Yeah, I just remembered working on my second book, Sönder, in 2014. It was a project about snow, and I wanted to include a poem by Björn Åkerstrand, a poet from my hometown Luleå. So I emailed him asking if I could use the poem in my book, and a few days later he replied: “So, it’s true that the poet writes for no one, but no one exists.” That line just keeps coming back to me.

A: Thank you very much for sharing your stories and ideas with me! Good luck with your futures endevours and hope to see more of your books around!