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I n , disillusioned with my career as a fashion photographer, I relocated to Andalucia in Spain. I didn't even take a camera with me. But driving around the region, I kept spotting remote brothels and thought that if I ever got back into photography, it could make an interesting project.
By , I was shooting again, and I finally did a series of 12 Spanish brothel pictures over three months in the summer, dragging my poor girlfriend with me. There was little information on the internet about where to find the establishments, so I drove around practically every road in the area, sheepishly asking passers-by: "Do you know if there are any brothels around here?
Prostitution is widespread and legal in Spain — brothels or puticlubs, as they are known are treated like hotels: women rent out rooms and can do what they want in them. It was their utilitarian look that appealed to me. These places for people to pay to have sex had just been plonked down in rural landscapes, rather incongruously.
Their isolation worked on a metaphorical level, too. I deliberately didn't go inside any of the buildings.
This shot was a tough one to get. To access this particular brothel, you had to go down an intimidating, unlit country path. It was next to a busy lorry park — which was no coincidence — and lots of people were milling about. I didn't get caught, but took about five frames then legged it. My brief was to make the brothels look as seductive as possible. I love the light created by the lorries as they passed. And the irony that the building is there to service travelling punters, who are creating the only warmth in the picture.