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IIn 1926, the directory of the Swedish Tourism Association described the village of Älvdalen as "a community with a dark and insular spirit" where the inhabitants were "beset by mistrust and discomfort". It was there that the witch hunt in Sweden began in 1668, resulting in the execution of 19 girls and a man suspected of occult practices. We feel that the tourist association thought that the stigma had lasted until the twentieth century. "It's not easy to get close to them," the directory added, "especially if you do not speak their language."
Today, Älvdalen, in the west of Sweden, still has its own language, the elfdalian, which goes back to the old Nordic, the language of the Vikings. Swedish photographer Maja Daniels spent many summers in her cabin in a cabin built by her grandparents in the woods by the river.
"Älvdalen is part of what I call home," she says. "My grandparents spoke Elfdalian, whose continued existence baffled linguists, but remains a personal mystery to me because I do not speak it." The language has recently experienced a renaissance and scholarships have been awarded to 16-year-old students.
In 2012, Daniels started working on Älvdalen and three years later, as her fascination intensified, she left London and returned. "I registered as a Swedish teacher in an asylum seekers' center located 30 km outside Ålvdalen," she says. "I worked there for six months. But after receiving a scholarship, I ended up living in the cabin for three years. "
This had to be quite an adjustment, given the severity of the region's winters, which has the reputation of being the coldest part of Sweden. "I've often been defeated by the weather and sometimes totally isolated by the snow and ice," she says. "We spent a lot of time in and around the cabin, diving into the forest. The rest of the time, I engaged with the local community. "
The result is Elf Dalia, an intriguing and mysterious photo book that combines the often impressionistic images of the landscape and its young, mostly Daniels, to a fascinating archive of photographs of a local eccentric, Tenn Lars Persson, born there in 1878 and died in 1939. 1938.
"Tenn Lars was interested in what can be called natural magic: knowledge of astrology, alchemy, the occult and the hidden power of plants, animals and stones. Although he only spent four years at school, he became a self-taught electrician, an optician, an inventor, a photographer and a scientist. In many ways, he was a wizard of his time. "
Persson made his own cameras and lenses, as well as building a telescope to study and photograph the moon. He is remembered as the man who brought electricity to Älvdalen and his lectures on the wonders of the solar system and plant life. For Daniels, his monochrome landscape photographs and Älvdalen inhabitants evoke "the sense of wonder and mystery" that drew him there. "I felt a deep connection to her work," she says. "I wanted to start a dialogue with her, to emphasize the unique and almost eccentric spirit of the place."
This visual dialogue is what gives the book its sense of mystery, while minimizing it. Perssons' photographs accentuate both the everyday and the otherness of the community, the inhabitants being dressed for the festivals, the face sometimes attracted by him, while the mainly colored images of Daniels are more elusive.
Its rural landscapes suggest a human presence: bare forests, reflections of street lights filtered through the trees, young men driving cars through wooded tracks. Other more impressionistic images use sunlight, shadow and sparks to evoke the immutable natural mystery of the Swedish elemental landscape. In several portraits, the faces of strangers are totally or partially masked, while the people she knows are revealed in close up. All the while, we gently remind you that she is a stranger despite her family ties.
Formerly a documentary photographer, Daniels is best known for his series Monette & Mady, about identical twins who have remained inseparable all their lives, with matching clothes and strangely synchronized gestures. Elf Dalia, from its invented title, marks the departure of the visual suggestion guided by the concept. "Doing this job has changed the way I think about photography," she says. "It has become more what I can try to do. make, rather than what that represents. "
In addition to under and overexposing his photographs, Daniels sometimes let light penetrate the exposed film rolls "to give up some of my control, but also to produce the feeling of presence of another world – that I Had, somehow, invited to ".
The inclusion of a prose poem, Myriadmouth by Andrea Lundgren, still reflects the feeling of a contemporary community still darkened by a darker, stranger past and unpublished things. His incantatory spell evokes the mysteries of "the dark night" and "the mouth of the forest", as well as the "great silence" of the wooded valley.
However, Daniels' book is a very modern, perhaps even post-modern, meditation on place, memory, myth and belonging. "Elf Dalia is an invented word that derives from the name of the language but refers to a place," she says. "I wanted to make sure the book was not read too easily. Despite his commitment to a true community, his history and his language, Elf Dalia represents a place that I have created to a certain extent. If someone looks at work and decides to go visit Älvdalen, he may be disappointed. "
• Elf Dalia by Maja Daniels is published by MACK.
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