58. Zugerbergschwinget
Switzerland, 2025
35mm Film, 15 Images
Digital Scan 4000× 2667px
Switzerland, 2025
35mm Film, 15 Images
Digital Scan 4000× 2667px
Breakfast was a bratwurst and a beer at ten in the morning, eaten on a hilltop while a pastor’s voice rolled over the loudspeakers. The Zugerberg was already humming, cowbells in the distance, kids kicking up sawdust, old men talking Schwingen like it was scripture.
By midday, pairs of broad-shouldered men were colliding in the ring, boots grinding the sawdust, Edelweiss shirts clinging with sweat. Heads went down, bodies folded under weight, and one after another the bouts ended the same way. No theatrics, just a brush of sawdust from the back, a handshake, and two giants lumbering out as if nothing had happened.
At the end of it all, the champion hoisted his prize, a live calf, and the crowd met it not with roars or fanfare, but with the calm nods and quiet approval only the Swiss can pull off.
By midday, pairs of broad-shouldered men were colliding in the ring, boots grinding the sawdust, Edelweiss shirts clinging with sweat. Heads went down, bodies folded under weight, and one after another the bouts ended the same way. No theatrics, just a brush of sawdust from the back, a handshake, and two giants lumbering out as if nothing had happened.
At the end of it all, the champion hoisted his prize, a live calf, and the crowd met it not with roars or fanfare, but with the calm nods and quiet approval only the Swiss can pull off.