Reykjavík Grapevine - 29.08.2014, Blaðsíða 32

“The Icelandic form of
hidden people clearly
differ from the “little” or
“good” people you might
know from Italy, Ireland,
Russia and beyond.”
32 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 13 — 2014OPINION
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Our generation is receptive to elusive
and mystical elements, hence the ris-
ing interest in the study of folklore and
old traditions. Perhaps this tendency is
connected to a search for a new sense
of truth and beauty. Fearing losing a
sense of self, we aim to redefine it with
the help of old ideas; some use reli-
gion, others animate nature and their
surroundings with spirits and ghosts.
In Iceland, we have Huldufólk, who
have through the years played a big
role in (re-)defining the national char-
acter and may continue to do so still.
Most of us can agree that the mod-
ern Icelander is prone to keep a door
open for the Huldufólk phenomenon.
This is not particularly surprising,
considering the Icelandic traditions of
storytelling, yet perhaps the most in-
teresting factor is that what is actually
believed in isn’t clear to anyone.
Be they visible or imagined, gnom-
ish or elfin, the spirits of nature gain
form in the Huldu-verse. This universe,
however, may for hundreds of years
have been heterogeneous to the point
that its “products” will only reflect the
state of affairs at one given time, and
have little substance or form through
its passage.
The aim is not to place them as
spirits as such, substitutes for vener-
ated icons in order to gain or ensure
a peaceful blessing. Yet, a growing
interest in defining what Huldufólk
meant to common Icelanders back in
the 18th and 19th centuries is on the
rise, and has given us reasons to better
understand what it is that they stand
for. It also addresses the question of
whether there is a significant differ-
ence between the Icelandic variant
and the international idea of a hidden
or ghostly race; the Germanic idea of
elves or the Irish faeries.
Some say that our Huldufólk tradi-
tion is being imposed by generalisa-
tions where two related, yet distinct,
variations, álfar (“elves”) and Huldufólk
(“Hidden People”), are merged into
one en-masse idea that has no basis in
historical Huldufólk culture or legends.
The term “huldu” has a more vi-
brant resonance with the Greek word
“kryptos” in my mind than with the
simple “hidden”
prefix. "Huldu"
bears a meaning of
mystis and sacra-
mentum, their sites
are sacred—en sa-
crum—leading to
the secrecy chosen
by the Huldufólk
themselves. The
mystical and co-
lourful aura envisaged by clairvoyants
expresses this Borean sacredness.
These folks are not a part of a pa-
gan fantasy-ether, neither are they
closely knit with the Æsir and Vanir’s
arcana of heathen mythology or the
LOTR fantasy world. Though the origi-
nal use of the term “álfr” in Old Norse
refers to a spirit of a burial ground, the
Huldufólk are neither ghosts nor spir-
its.
For this reason, it is worth acknowl-
edging the ideas espoused by scholars
such as Terry Gunnell, who encourage
the use of the term Huldufólk at all
times while speaking of the Icelandic
variation, so that in the mind of the
visitor it does not get infused with the
elves and faeries of Scandinavia and
Ireland. The Icelandic form of hidden
people clearly differ from the “little” or
“good” people you might know from
Italy, Ireland, Russia and beyond. The
word “Huldufólk” encompasses what
is exclusive to the Icelandic variant,
despite all the complexity and ambigu-
ity within the Icelandic understanding
of it.
However, in my mind, these neigh-
bours of ours are counterparts, our
outsiders that represent the margin-
alised peoples of every culture in every
era: the unseen, the
nameless and face-
less embodiments
of our hopes and
fears. And again,
this may clarify the
difference between
the elfish (used to
describe the ec-
centric Icelandic
popular icons of the
Krútt-generation) and the Huldufólk.
The elfish are not hidden in the sense
that they are close to our énfantes ter-
riblés of the artworld: elusive but cre-
ative figures half out of this world. It
may even be said that we had an Elf-
mayor for some years here in Reyk-
javík, and are becoming elfin in that
regard.
In this sense we do have the
Huldufólk amongst us as well, and hav-
ing met many of our city’s unseen in
the last years, they are humble people
and somewhat broken, yet bearing
potential always in their eyes. I assure
you that you will find them to be kind
when treated with respect.
The use and adaption of folklore is changing rapidly in a country flirting with mass tour-
ism, and some of us worry that the highway to cliché is paved with quick fixes. No one
blames a visitor thirsty to learn about Icelandic storytelling traditions. However, for wit-
nesses of the tourism circus, it’s worth considering which stories are being told and how
they resonate with Iceland’s cultural legacy.
Photo
Patrice Helmar
Words
Arnaldur Elísabetar Finnsson is a candidatus theologiae who works as a theological consultant to vari-
ous cultural projects, ranging from strategy and development to fieldwork with Reykjavík’s homeless. He
lives and works in the Westfjords of Iceland.
The Elusive
Hidden People