Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.09.2017, Side 18

HUMANS OF REYKJAVÍK
The Black Elf
“I’ll go to the protests and watch, I’ll support
activists; but I’m not going to protest anymore.
I’m just sick of it, it’s no fun.”
Words: Jenna Mohammed Photo: Art Bicnick

Living in a modern world where
social media is rampant, it can be
hard to be sure of who you truly
are. For Svarti Álfur, which means
“Black Elf,” it comes pretty easily.
Don’t let his appearance fool you
however—from the ripe age of 12
he has been true to his style and
beliefs.
The main curator of the Ice-
landic Punk Museum, Svarti is
no stranger to the community.
“For me, my punk started without
knowing it was punk,” he says. He
was born in Belgium, where he at-
tended a boarding school where
there was no television, no radio
and thus, no music. “What I started
to do when I was 12 years old, on
my own, was to take those butt-
ugly bell-trousers and making
them straight-legged. My mother
went crazy and cut them up, but I
just kept making my own clothes.
I started to think there was some-
thing wrong with me, because I
wouldn’t wear the clothes people
wore. I was always changing,” he
reminisces. His mom’s reaction
to his rebelliousness didn’t get in
the way of who he wanted to be at
such a young age. Svarti stuck to
his unique style when there was
no one else around who shared the
same image as him—something
that many people would have
struggled with. He says, “When I
was 14 years old, I was at the train
station in Belgium and I saw punks
for the first time in my life. It was
like a revelation: I’m not the only
one that’s looking like this.”
Rebel with a cause
“About three years later I got to
know that punk music is related to
the people that looked like me,” he
continues. For Svarti, punk fash-
ion came first and the music came
later on. The most influential punk
artists we know of today such as
The Clash, The Ramones, Sex Pis-
tols and Black Flag, are all amaz-
ing bands in their own way but the
music didn’t speak to Svarti on a
deeper level when he first started
identifying with punk culture. In
the late ‘70s, he discovered hard-
core bands that were making their
debut in the punk scene, such as
The Epileptics, Crust, and The Ex-
ploited. Of the message conveyed
b y t h e s e g r o u p s ,
Svarti says, “These
bands were way more
political. They were
about going after the
government and the
police. This meant
more to me because
at that time I was get-
ting into fights with
police on the streets,
seeing injustice eve-
rywhere.” Svarti be-
gan to identity with
music that reflected
his world. “I started
as a political punk
with the music…on
the fashion side, it
was just me—I was
born like this.”
Svarti’s image is
a reflection of rebel-
ling against fashion
norms , but when
it comes to politi-
cal rebellion today,
he’s taking it much
easier. He claims the
fire in him may be burning out as
he is not as political as he used to
be. “It’s not going to change,” he
says. “Every time we get what we
demand, they [institutions] take
more from us, so you start to regret
having asked to begin with. The
situation gets worse afterwards.”
Unfortunately, this is a harsh real-
ity that we experience in modern
day society. “I’ll go to the protests
and watch, I’ll support activists;
but I’m not going to protest any-
more. I’m just sick of it, it’s no fun.”
However, Svarti doesn’t let this get
him down. He says that living in
his own world with his group of
friends creates a safer, easier, and
more honest sense of community.
It’s something that we have all cre-
ated for ourselves in order to cope
with day-to-day struggles.
Jack-of-all-trades
In the years before working as the
main curator at the Icelandic Punk
Museum, Svarti did it all. Since the
age of 13, he has worked an array of
jobs, from clothes model to general
labourer. Throughout the years,
music has always been a constant
for him. “First band I was in, Sjálfs-
fróun, I played the base. We played
until ‘91. In ‘97, I started a new band,
Kuml, and there I
was singing. We
played for about
2 0 y e a r s , a n d
quit two years
ago.” These days
Svarti is taking
it much easier:
“Now I’m playing
bass again. I’m
creating shit and
hoping to make
an album.”

R e g a r d i n g h i s
family life, Svarti
has been sepa-
rated from his
immediate fam-
ily for years now.
H o w e v e r, h e ’s
warming up to
the idea of his
kids growing up.
“I’m now learn-
ing to be without
kids. My daughter
is 23 years old and
she moved out.
It’s a bit strange to be alone again
and not have that responsibility.
I’m still waiting for her to come
home. Sometimes I’ll pick up the
phone and ask her what she wants
for dinner.”
18 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 16 — 2017
“When I was
14 years old,
I was at the
train station
in Belgium
and I saw
punks for
the first time
in my life. It
was like a
revelation: I’m
not the only
one that’s
looking like
this.”
Punk's not dead. He's curating a museum.
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