Earlier this week I was riding home from jumping in the water and bumped into Elias. It reminded me that I was going to post this story today and it got my gears turning. Let’s see what I can come up with.

26 June 2016 is the oldest tagged photo I can find of Elias in my archive. Taken near Porte de Pantin, Paris, Elias is wearing a colorful who knows what. Head shaved. Black rectangle tattooed on the back of his skull as the bone cures down to the start of the neck. He looks “cool”, and frankly bit intimidating, but as I’ve learned from being told that I appear intimidating and unapproachable, that this is not a preconception one should necessarily trust.

This is a long time ago. I did not even live in Copenhagen yet. At this time, I would have been living in Amsterdam, likely thinking I was hot shit to be an American living abroad. Not making any friends due to my appearance and the way I dressed and being too shy to approach people on my own without the purpose of asking for a photograph. It’s bizarre how lonely your appearance can leave you.

Sorry to be a bit off track, but the point is: Elias is kind. Like, extremely kind. The kind of kind where he seems to always make time for you if you ask for it, kind. The “I’m starting a new project can you come into the city for me for some dumb photos” obliging kind of kind. The “can we move your furniture around in your apartment to get this shot on a lazy morning at home” kind of kind.

Over the years I’ve loved to discover peoples’ hobbies outside of that they “do”. Editors who run. Buyers + models who cycle. Showing up at 06:45 on Ponte Vecchio for what I’ve called the Pitti Pain Patrol where I try to kill as many people as possible in the first 500m of a run. Or dropping by two different bicycle races in Copenhagen and the suburbs to find Elias there on his gravel bike to watch and take photographs. I like that all these people who fill these roles in this weird and very unwell industry are so stoked on their own personal health and wellness. A strange conundrum like eating a salad and a bowl of chili cheese fries (which I have been known to do).

I would nominate Elias for the 2023 Slashie Award (watch Zoolander, you idiots). He does a lot and seemingly does it well and at a high level. DJ’ing in prestigious venues, modelling for the world’s top designers, riding bikes (although crashing somewhat too often). I am always impressed when people can do so much, do it well, and maintain an active lifestyle on top of it all. I often set people like this as benchmarks for how I would like to live my own.

On the last day of photographing Elias, we are in his home, and he is showing me his record collection. I’m impressed by the Pusher soundtrack on vinyl. He shows me a myriad of discs by artists I don’t know and likely never will. Music is something that I love, but the act of discovery of new music is a task I leave to my friends and the Spotify algorithm. I view the search of new sounds as daunting as vintage shopping. A room filled with “content” and perhaps only one (or zero) treasures to be found. Time being the cost, with no guarantee of results. To be a DJ is in my opinion not too dissimilar from being an anthropologist, except you get to put the evidence together in a way that rewrites the story altogether.

Before I leave, Elias says he wants to show me his skateboard signed by Tony Hawk. We walk into his room and he points to it and says “He misspelled my name” and sure enough, there it is “To Elis.” Signed “Tony Hawk.”