I took this in December 2021 on the outskirts of Miramar, a coastal town in Argentina. I didn’t know it then but the photograph marked the beginning of my book, Dead Cow Rising. It’s a conceptual documentary project that charts Argentina’s rapidly rising inflation rates in images from a journey through Vaca Muerta, which means Dead Cow in English. It’s a desolate but oil-rich region covering an area approximately the size of Belgium.
My mother is Argentine and my father is Swedish; having spent most of my life in the UK, I wanted to reconnect with my roots and create my own portrait of Argentina, uncovering its everyday realities. Miramar is where I spent all my Christmases growing up. It’s a happy-go-lucky beach town, five hours’ drive from Buenos Aires. I was visiting family and this photo was taken during the purgatory days between Christmas and New Year. I rented a bike from the same shop I hired from when I was seven, and cycled to the sand dunes. As I walked down to the beach, this arrangement naturally fell into place. The donkeys, the car, the people looking up at Christ: there’s a balance that draws the eye to the scale of the crucifix – that’s what makes this picture good.
