Burlesque was going through its final transformation at this time. Strip clubs and topless bars were beginning to pop up around the country. Old time burlesque like the performances at the Troc was dying off. Yet still these women considered themselves performers in the true show business tradition. Although many of them also worked as dancers in GoGo bars and strip joints, at the Troc they took their dancing and performance skills very seriously. They all had expensive custom-made costumes and some of them even played the role of "Burlesque Queen" both in and out of the theater.

The place was filthy. Layers of dust and grime covered everything and the dressing rooms were a mess. But somehow, the dancers would find a way to settle in and make these rooms into personal refuges. When I began shooting at the Troc, I noticed those doors were never closed. Watching the dancers getting ready for a performance or relaxing afterwards, I realized I was in a very different place than the predictable, safe world I was used to. The air was always thick with danger, sensuality and anticipation.

If I felt it was appropriate, I would introduce myself to some of the new performers and explain why I was there. I asked if I could photograph them and most of them agreed. The run down setting and the partially clad dancers naturally converged as I started to take my pictures. The women, exhibitionists by nature, enjoyed posing for me. But although the dancers were friendly enough, I still felt an underlying sense of suspicion.

These women lived in a world of hustling and exploitation. They made a living using their sexuality to take advantage of the unfulfilled erotic needs and fantasies of the customers. Yet their short-lived power over their audience was in direct contrast to the helplessness of their situation when dealing with management and society. As if this situation wasn't difficult enough, those negotiations were often conducted while they were naked.

I quickly realized I had to be totally straight with these women. If they thought I was trying to pull the wool over their eyes, they would see right through the attempt and refuse to pose for me. They generally viewed all men as predators who were trying to hit on them and seemed to enjoy the feeling of control they experienced in these interactions. I was not viewed any differently. I felt that by being as honest and straightforward as possible, I would be able to earn their trust.

Most of the dancers I met were loners. The men in their lives were often gangsters, pimps or drug dealers, and if they traveled with a man, it was usually for protection. Many were drug users themselves. It was a lifestyle fraught with clearly visible physical danger and risk. They interacted with the other dancers like siblings in a dysfunctional family. There was always camaraderie amongst them but also marked distrust. Like a soap opera, their lives revolved around these temporary relationships. Status in the theater was an important and constant topic of conversation, and there was always an undercurrent of gossip.

I spent a lot of time with the dancers at the Troc. We had many conversations in between photo sessions and often left the theater together to catch a bite to eat or have a cup of coffee. I found some of the women fascinating and some dull. I became friends with a few. We got to know each other and learned about our mutual struggles to get somewhere in this world.

Over the years I've thought a lot about those women. I often wonder what they're doing now. How have they changed? How have they grown? I suspect I'll never see any of them again, but the photographs will always take me back to that seminal moment in my life when I first crossed over society's boundary line into the sexual underground of the world of Burlesque.