JTF (just the facts): Published in 2025 by J and L Books (here). Hardback with tipped in cover image, 6.5 x 9.6 inches, 96 pages, with 44 color photographs. Includes numerous short texts by the author’s father. Design by Jason Fulford. (Cover and spread shots below.)
Comments/Context: André Viking is a young (b. 1989) Danish artist based in Copenhagen. Coming out of grad school at the ICP in New York in 2014, his initial forays into fine art photography explored themes of rehabilitation and redemption. “Kekule’s Dream” featured his photographs of healing ceremonies among the Sangomas in South Africa. “Closed Eyes” examined the mythologies of different cultures through monochrome symbolism. Broadly speaking, both projects were conventionally executed. They were conceived, photographed, edited, and printed by Viking.
For his debut monograph, Viking has taken a decidedly different tack. Hello “Soul Mate” is a visual memoir of sorts. Viking is the protagonist, depicted as a young blonde boy in a series of color snapshots. He is shown in various life stages and situations, joined by relatives, animals, and domestic settings. His parents play supporting roles in the book, each appearing separately in several photos, and occasionally together.
As an early ontogenic study, Hello “Soul Mate” falls roughly in line with Viking’s past efforts. But there is one key difference. None of its photographs were made by him. Instead they were pulled from old family scrapbooks, then edited into cohesive shape with help from Jason Fulford. The book version was published by Fulford’s imprint J & L Books, and an exhibition of the work recently closed at Oblong Gallery in Copenhagen.
Hello “Soul Mate” is a modest hardback in horizontal format. Pictures appear one per spread, generally on the right-facing pages. The title is adapted from a pair of photos which appear early in the book. First is a picture of a man snipping the umbilical cord of a newborn infant. Peering into a frenzied delivery room to seize the moment, someone’s camera has captured a brilliant twist of limbs, skin, and faint blue trim. Presumably this is Viking’s birth. In the next picture we see tiny André Viking being weighed on a hospital scale. On the facing page is the handwritten caption: Hello “Soul Mate”.
A warm welcome to the world, and to the book. Viking’s mom carries the fuzzy mood on the next page with a knowing grin. Baby André’s path seemed promising, but challenges soon arose. For starters, his bodybuilding father was at some point incarcerated, and absent thereafter as a parental figure. The precise crime and sentence are never specified in the book—just a passing nod to his “mistakes”—but the psychic void manifests as the pictures progress. Pleasant pics of kissing parents and a father/son nap gradually give way to a bandaged wrist, mysterious shiners, and other head injuries.
We gain a rough sense of family dynamics via these scrapbook memories. Better yet, they’re supplemented by a trove of commentary: handwritten messages interspersed occasionally between the photos. “Hello ‘Soul Mate’” is merely the first of several. These heartfelt tidbits include reflections and life advice. Initially their source is not clear, but after reading a few we can begin to make an educated guess before a later message cinches the conclusion: “That’s all for now, the prison guard is about the rip the letter from my hand.” So these are notes from the penitentiary, sent to Viking from his adoring father. Taken collectively, the photos and letters are a distant communique, complete with cancelled Danish postage stamp on the front cover.
With this background in hand, the photos take on a new dimension. There are an inordinate number of animal photos in the book, including a beetle, puppies, deer, porcupines, sheep, a dolphin, a kitten, swordfish, gecko, shark, and an elephant. Perhaps they are meant to reference involuntary confinement and servitude? Then again they could just be creature comforts from childhood, former soul mates if you will. Photos of strongman competitions and trophy kills seem benign enough initially. But perhaps they presage hints of prison-bound aggression. What about photos of sheep with odd red coloring, creepy skeleton mask, or a projectile snowball? Do these characters signal good or evil? Maybe both. “Long-term confinement breeds either lackeys or killers,” writes Viking’s father, quoting Camus, “sometimes both being united in the same person.”
As with any stranger’s family snapshots, it’s hard to read into these old photos with much certainty. We don’t know the scenarios, relationships, places, or dates. In fact we don’t even know the photographer(s). Perhaps it is a relative or friend? A passing stranger asked to snap a photo? A soul mate?
This being a Jason Fulford production, we’re unlikely to get to the bottom of these questions any time soon. Most of J and L’s books are delivered with a winking sense of detachment, and Hello “Soul Mate” is no exception. Fulford has selected pictures which are wry, offbeat, and ambiguous. This is not your father’s (nor Viking’s father’s) idea of a hidebound photobook. Instead, the sequence seems intended to obfuscate and tease, 21st century style. In place of family portraits we get disjointed pictures of a clock near a gecko, a Christmas wreath against a pink wall, and a deer crossing a distant road. “Although our situation is not currently the most positive,” writes dad, “you are still allowed to dream.” Fair enough. But still, why were these images saved in a treasured scrapbook? And what do they have to do with André Viking? The book leaves more questions than it answers.
With its narrative muddled, the book’s weight falls largely on the photos. That’s a good thing, because all are interesting. In fact many are fantastic. I’m ready to declare the umbilical cord photo, for example, as an instant neonatal classic. A picture of puppy on a couch with a white block in its mouth is strangely blurred and provocative, with a tone of misfit nostalgia. A photo of kids riding an elephant is shot downward and off-kilter as a leathery abstraction. Its odd texture is a good counterpart for a brazen coconut husk which appears later in the book. Photos of a misfocused dog, slithery fisherman, and chained porcupines add to the hijinks. No one could invent this stuff. It’s only available through discovery.
Throughout the series, flash is applied casually and without much thought. The results are sometimes blown out, sometimes under exposed. Compositions routinely veer into odd and unpredictable patterns. Scan your own iPhone roll and you may find similar eccentricities. If so, great. The wilder the better as far as I’m concerned. If no picture in Hello “Soul Mate” feels particularly polished or professional, that’s precisely its charm. Viking and Fulford have tapped into the wondrous authenticity of amateur snapshots. Aim, shoot, fire, voila. No training or mediation required.
Of course Viking’s scrapbooks are not unique. Families all over the world have been photographing themselves for over a century. Pore through the attic boxes in any given household and you might find pictures similar to Viking’s. And if you set Jason Fulford loose he might curate them into an ironic J & L monograph. Your grandmother’s favorite keepsake could transmogrify into a work of art. But aspiring editors should beware. In the words of André Viking’s father, “it is difficult to express how you feel on paper.” Spot on advice, even if it didn’t seem to stop him.
Collector’s POV: André Viking does not appear to have consistent gallery representation at this time. As a result, interested collectors should likely follow up directly with the artist via his website (linked in the sidebar).
