Last year, French photographer François Prost dedicated countless hours to scouring Google Maps, meticulously planning an expedition to capture the essence of Japan's "love hotels"—unique establishments that provide hourly rentals and, most importantly, a sanctuary of privacy for their patrons. However, as he embarked on his extensive 3,000-kilometer (1,864-mile) journey, these hotels were anything but inconspicuous.

While some were marked by heart-shaped or lip-themed signs (with names such as Hotel Passion, Hotel Joy, or Hotel BabyKiss, to name a few from his travels), the hotels were most readily identifiable by their whimsical architecture, which, paradoxically, was far from being discreet. "You can spot spaceships, boats, and even a massive whale, which seems quite childlike," Prost remarked in a Zoom interview from France. "And numerous of them are designed to resemble castles," he added, referring to the facades of approximately 200 love hotels featured in his latest photographic series.

Although guests have the option to rent rooms overnight, Japan's love hotels also offer short-stay rates for "kyukei" or "rest." These establishments saw a surge in popularity following the country's ban on prostitution in 1958, which led to the closure of brothels and a shift in the industry towards alternative venues. Today, however, love hotels are not primarily associated with sex work or infidelity; instead, they cater predominantly to couples residing in cramped or shared family homes. "There is, of course, a small amount of prostitution involved, but the majority of visitors are people—especially young people and couples—seeking privacy," Prost explained.

His circular route traversed through Honshu and Shikoku—the largest and smallest of Japan's four main islands, respectively—before culminating back in the capital city, Tokyo. "And now, they're not just for sexual encounters. They've also evolved into leisure facilities, such as karaoke nightclubs," he noted. The concept of lodgings with concealed entrances has roots dating back centuries in Japan, but a more direct precursor to the modern love hotel is the post-war "tsurekomi yado" (or "bring-your-own inn"), often operated by families with spare rooms. The distinctive architectural style that Prost documented emerged in the 1960s and 1970s as these establishments became more upscale. Passersby needed to instantly recognize the buildings' purpose, and owners sought to distinguish their businesses from regular hotels.

One of the most iconic love hotels from the 1970s, the Meguro Emperor, was designed to emulate a European castle, sparking a trend of castle-themed hotels, many of which are showcased in Prost's series. He also encountered buildings modeled after French country houses, tropical beach clubs, and, in the case of Hotel Aladdin in Okayama, a grand Arabian palace with onion domes.

Despite their somewhat ostentatious appearance, the hotels' design is a reflection of their function. To ensure privacy, exteriors often feature minimal or even faux windows. Many hotels employ self-service check-ins and other design elements that minimize the likelihood of unwanted encounters. "Everything is designed to prevent you from crossing paths with someone else when you enter the building," Prost said. "The entrance is separate from the exit, and there might be one elevator for going up to the rooms and another for descending. All of this is part of the design process."

The peculiar architectural style Prost encountered became less prevalent in the 1990s. For one, the hotels began targeting women, who were increasingly the decision-makers in their partnerships. Additionally, legislation passed in the mid-1980s placed love hotels under police jurisdiction, leading newer establishments to opt for more subtle designs to avoid being classified as such. (Incorporating a lobby or restaurant and removing rotating beds or large mirrors were other tactics to evade the legal classification.) As a result, it is challenging to determine the exact number of love hotels still in operation in Japan, although estimates suggest there are over 20,000. Usage data is similarly scarce, but hospitality industry figures from the late 1990s indicated that couples were making around 500 million visits to these establishments annually. If accurate, this would mean that approximately half of all sexual encounters in Japan were occurring in love hotels during those years, as legal scholar Mark D. West wrote in his 2005 book "Law in Everyday Japan."

Love hotels are also relatively common in other Asian countries, including South Korea and Thailand, while short-stay hotels or motels in other parts of the world often serve a similar social function. However, the term is most closely associated with Japan, despite some industry efforts to rebrand them as "leisure" or "fashion" hotels to mitigate the negative connotations of the original name. Prost believes that these establishments (and his photographs) highlight the contrast between Japan's social conservatism and the attitudes of its people towards sex.

He describes the unusual designs as a form of modern vernacular—everyday architecture that "reveals more about the country" than famous landmark buildings. With the support of a newly launched Kickstarter campaign, he plans to publish the images in a book next year. This approach has proven successful in the past: Prost's most recent book "Gentlemen's Club," which documented the vibrant strip club architecture across the United States, was published using crowdfunding in 2021.

He has also captured the facades of nightclubs in France, Spain, and the Ivory Coast. Beyond the exploration of vice and society's after-hours, these projects share a common theme: they are not just about the establishments but the country and culture in which they operate. "I would say these projects are more akin to landscape photography," he said. "They showcase the country through the lens of these venues."