© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

Hi Dan, it’s been a while since we talked about your pioneering editorial adventure with Bill Dane. What has happened in the meantime? How have you focused on your work, and where in the world are you now?

Hi Steve. First of all, I’m happy to have the chance to discuss work with you again. I really appreciated your feature on the book with Bill. A few things have happened since we discussed that collaboration. Bill and I published the work in July 2020, and since it was my first publication, there was a lot to learn and explore in terms of getting the work seen. I probably spent a solid year focusing on this part of the process, while simultaneously teaching and trying to stay engaged with my own practice.Being in the grips of Covid certainly affected me, both in terms of my day-to-day operations and the kinds of questions I began to ponder. They became more existential, and it seemed for a period that every aspect of my life should be questioned. The long, dark winters of Trondheim certainly didn’t help in that regard. However, as travel bans began to lift, so did my spirit. By early 2022, I felt more in tune with myself. Of course, I was forever changed in some ways, but in terms of my photographic work, I was back to my usual routine.I ended up leaving my teaching position this spring, a decision undeniably influenced by some of the thoughts that arose during those first Covid-years. I also decided to leave my apartment behind, so I’m now living a more nomadic existence. I just arrived in Norway, where I’ll spend a few days before heading back to France, where I’ve spent the past month. After some recent health scares, I’m just very excited to photograph again. I wanted to free up the space and time to fully embrace that state of creation.

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

You’ve recently published a book titled "33 Suspensions". First of all, tell us how the idea for this book came about and how the editorial process developed. What have you learned from it? How does this work fit in your identity as a photographer or visual artist and if relates any with your previous works?

The work was really a collaboration with Brad Feuerhelm and wouldn’t have come about at this time, or in this form, without him. After finishing the book with Bill, I began to question what role the book form could play in my own practice. There’s a level of naivety in my approach that can be both an asset and a liability, and in this context, I felt compelled to dive deeper into the history, use, and structure of the photobook. Around this time, I discovered the Nearest Truth year-long photobook workshop, which seemed like the perfect opportunity to broaden my understanding of the field. My intent wasn’t to produce a book, but with Brad’s encouragement, we ended up developing and publishing "33 Suspensions" through his Nearest Truth Editions.

As for what I’ve learned, I’m always more interested in what I think of as embodied knowledge—the kind of understanding that can’t always be conveyed in words but is deeply felt. Perhaps you could call it reinforcing the gut feeling, a place I like to operate from. So, while I can’t neatly summarize everything I’ve learned, I can say that I now have a completely different outlook on how I perceive the book and a greater confidence in how I can engage with the medium.

In terms of how this book fits into my photographic practice, it feels like both a natural extension of my work and an introduction to how my images function. When I reflect on my work, I visualize it as a continuous line of individual images starting in 2014 and extending to the present day, with a few outshoots that represent more methodical engagements with specific subject matter—often with a self-imposed deadline attached. But it all stems from the line: these individual responses to my visual environment. It’s only later, when I present the work, that I attempt to contextualize it. This is when the mind comes into play. But while I’m photographing, I try to operate from the gut as much as possible. The less thinking, the better.

For this publication, we looked at some of these individual images, arrived at a title based on certain patterns, and developed the concept from there. With this in mind, I was able to go through my entire archive and select images that fit with what we wanted to achieve. 

© Dan Skjæveland book "33 Suspensions", Nearest Truth Editions 2024

© Dan Skjæveland book "33 Suspensions", Nearest Truth Editions 2024

© Dan Skjæveland book "33 Suspensions", Nearest Truth Editions 2024

The photographs included in the book invite the viewer to reflect on the act of looking. They are suspensions, almost like moments of waiting, where, beyond an explicit narrative, attention is spread across abstract surfaces. In a way, the viewer ends up asking themselves questions not so much about the subjects, but about the very act of looking. What is your approach to photography?

For me, the work and process are centered around looking in many ways—attempting to activate a certain presence or awareness while moving through what can often be very stimulating environments. I am also keenly aware of how the camera translates my seeing into images. I know I am making images, and there are a number of thoughts attached to what I do, but they tend to be fragmented—just the way I need them to be in order to produce.

I’m interested in framing, context, collective meaning-making, the everyday, and the universal—the simple and the layered. I feel like I work from both a place of risk and trust. It’s important for what I do, and ultimately, it’s all for me. It has to be.

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

These images, much like in the case of Bill Dane’s book, come from a selection drawn from a vast archive—photographs taken over different years and in various locations. Tell us about this method of selection and editing. What criteria did you use? What choices and challenges did you face?

DS: I think my work is unified by a certain gaze, which creates the opportunity to connect photographs taken under different circumstances. I’ve never been interested in subject matter per se, as something external. Liberating myself from the concept of subject allows for a certain freedom when editing, although I imagine it could also be overwhelming, with all the potential directions the work could take.

An overarching title or concept certainly helps to narrow the focus, and in this case, we knew we wanted 33 images related to the idea of suspensions. We also had a certain tonality and color scheme in mind. Brad and I had monthly meetings to discuss the project and the current edit. We selected both literal suspensions and images that related to the word in more abstract terms. In the end, we seriously evaluated around 60 images.

During this period, I would also venture out and look more deliberately for something that could qualify as a suspension, which I found to be challenging. It’s difficult to assess whether I’m moving into the realm of illustration when I’m looking through a filter of desires—actively looking for something specific. I think one or two images from these sessions made it into the book.

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

As a photographer  have you undertaken projects or tasks that required you to venture into unfamiliar territories, physically or emotionally? If so, how do you cope with the uncertainties and daunting photo ventures? What have been some defining challenges or milestones on your artistic path?

DS: I can’t really say I’ve had any experiences that have pushed me into completely unfamiliar territory. However, a bit of unfamiliarity seeps into the whole process—comfortable unfamiliarity. Do I want to go left or right? Let me try shifting the framing a bit to the right. This is a city I haven’t been to. What’s down here?

I try to avoid feeling daunted when it comes to the act of photographing. During Covid, I did question my approach and started experimenting with ideas that might align more with what you’re hinting at—new approaches and attempting to incorporate the personal. They never evolved into anything concrete. I did carry small point-and-shoot cameras for a year to introduce an element of chance and change to my practice. I shot black-and-white film, focusing on the immediate. I didn’t know if the cameras even worked until I developed the film. It was uncertain, but healthy—it scratched an itch.

I did this while developing "33 Suspensions", but now I’m just excited to continue further down the path I’ve been on since 2014. There still seems to be much to discover here.

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

What relevant takeaways have you achieved from this project both with respect to the topic and your authorial practice?

DS: This project has made me reflect on the idea of authorship—what it means to put something out into the world and how this reflects backs on you. It’s interesting to consider just how people may perceive your work, though, of course, their view will never fully align with reality. This book represents just one of an infinite number of ways to present images from my archive. This is simply the form we chose. But at the same time, it’s the form this work should exist in. There is intent behind it. It’s not a promotional object; it’s a singular expression, as selected by us.

Another takeaway is how different the book is from an exhibition. Not just in terms of design and the overall experience, but also regarding the reach and longevity of the work. I believe the book aligns more closely with how I want to live, which is as good a reason as any to explore it further. 

© Dan Skjæveland book "33 Suspensions", Nearest Truth Editions 2024

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

The scenario in which photography is presented and discussed has changed considerably in recent years with the spread of ICT and the digital world. How do you relate to social networks and this expanded field of photography? How do you see the future of the medium evolving? And communication of one's own work...

DS: The roles of consumers and producers have become very different, with social networks placing you in a position where you can quickly move between the two. I have private concerns about all this consumption, and as a producer, it can be difficult to figure out how much to engage. I hope this doesn’t come across as self-grandizing, but I do believe I have a duty to find my audience. Now that I’m no longer teaching, I lead a very solitary existence, focused on myself and my concerns. Finding an audience feels like a way to give something back, whether that’s an audience of 10 or 100.

I’ve seen that social networks have helped make my work more visible, but I’m not sure what that visibility translates to in reality. Perhaps there are other ways to share one’s work that I’m unaware of, ways that could be equally beneficial while avoiding some of the pitfalls.

Ultimately, I, like so many others, grapple with the use of these platforms, both as a consumer and a producer. The reality is that I’ll probably continue using some of them for now, perhaps more mindfully. I’ve started subscribing to some newsletters, which is a welcome change, though merely receiving a newsletter does not guarantee more engagement than scrolling through a feed. Still, mere acceptance of progress for progress’s sake does not seem like the right answer, so I continue to grapple. 

In this fast changing environment have there been periods where you felt the need to redefine or pivot your artistic direction? Or to find your grounding again? How do you handle evolution in your life/work and transformation of visual-identity?

DS: I think there has always been a level of uncertainty as to the validity of what I do. My reluctance to use words, especially during the creative process, could easily be seen as a limitation or a cop-out, which might limit opportunities for support. But I honestly believe I am operating at the edge of my understanding, so I don’t expect to have the words to clearly describe what I do. Since my work is more tied to seeing and the medium itself, rather than a specific subject matter, I feel that words can only serve as a poor substitute from the creator’s perspective.

That said, I always welcome others’ perceptions of my work, and how they experience it. I learn about what I do through the thoughtful words of writers and the audience as a whole. Others can be a lot better at stringing words along. Again, we're back to the gut. I understand when a reading feels truthful to the work. My evolution feels slow, manageable, and deliberate. My perspective is long-term—I’m not in this for the “becoming.” When I first started, I told myself I wouldn’t make a book until I’d been working for at least ten years. That's roughly the time it took to get started.

And do you have any projects in the pipeline? Or topics/urgencies you would like to address?

DS: I do have a couple of projects I’m working on. One is a maquette of images taken between 2019 and 2022, mostly interior shots. I’ve been considering what form the work might take on and off since 2022. Recently, I drew up some sketches, and once I settle somewhere for a couple of months, I’ll begin working on it as a physical object. I’d love to see something come to life in the next couple of years, but I'm in no rush.

I’m also in the middle of shooting for another project. I’m about halfway through, but I’ll need to make some extensive trips to finalize it. I hope to secure funding for this, and if not, I plan to make these trips in the spring of 2026. I don’t want to reveal too much, but these photographs will explore representations of nature. In terms of visual content, they’re a bit different from what I’ve produced before, but atmospherically, I find that they align with my earlier work.

© Dan Skjæveland from "33 Suspensions"

Any interesting books that you recommend and that recently inspired you and why?

DS: I was recently in Tokyo and had the chance to browse through some classic titles while there. Oh! "Shinjuku" by Shomei Tomatsu really stood out to me—both the photographs and the production quality. I also spent some time in a bookstore looking at Gregory Halpern’s recent King, Queen, Knave. It’s hard not to be in awe of what you see; it feels very substantial. These are two recent experiences that come to mind. I’m not sure “inspiring” is the right word. It’s more of an appreciation for the fact that these kinds of works are being made—someone is taking care of it, for all of us to enjoy.

How would you advise students embarking on their artistic journeys based on your experiences?

DS: Every journey is unique, and it’s important to remind yourself of this, whether you’re 20 or 40. There is no one-size-fits-all formula. However, it can be helpful to observe others and see what paths they’ve taken. How do they present their work? Try different things, be patient, and trust your instincts. Also, focus on the work rather than titles. Don’t define yourself as a photographer—make photographs. The work should always come first.

Which photographer would you like to read an interview about in Urbanautica Journal? Why?

DS: There are many interesting photographers I could mention, many of whom would already be known to your audience. So, I thought I’d choose someone less familiar. In Tokyo, I visited a small gallery that had a show by a Hayashi Tomona. I was very impressed, and would love to learn more about her work.

Dan Skjæveland (website)