Hidden People

My journey began with a statistic: most Icelanders don’t outright deny a belief in elves or huldufólk. Intrigued, I set out to uncover the truth behind this phenomenon, expecting tourist tales but finding heartfelt stories instead.

One fisherman shared a chilling experience. During a hunting trip, he shot at a random stone near his home to test his rifle. Later that day, he slipped near a cliff but survived miraculously. He believes the stone housed hidden people, and the accident was their warning. To this day, he leaves offerings of oatmeal and raisins at the stone as an apology.

In another village, I learned of a road construction project rerouted around a single boulder said to be an elven home. The workers who disturbed it faced inexplicable equipment failures until they left the stone untouched.

I also met a family who respected a moss-covered boulder in their garden for generations. A child once disobeyed warnings, climbing the stone, only to fall and sustain injuries. They attributed this to the hidden people’s displeasure and vowed never to disturb their space again.

These encounters reshaped my worldview. Icelanders taught me that existence often matters more than possession, and nature commands reverence over conquest. Whether myth or reality, their belief in huldufólk reflects a broader respect for the balance between humanity and the natural world.

Through these photographs, I aim to share not only the breathtaking beauty of Iceland but also the humanity and mysticism that make this place unforgettable. This project invites viewers to question their connection to the earth, urging them to see stones, landscapes, and stories in a new light.