In April 2017, I was contacted by the director of an Austrian clinic, Dr. Nokeshima, who asked me to produce photographic portraits of some of his patients.

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There were twenty-three of them, all wishing to have their convalescence recorded before leaving the clinic. Twenty-three wealthy patients who, he stressed, wished to remain completely anonymous. Under no circumstances were the photographs I took to be shown to the public.

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Intrigued, I asked him to send me an offer and a contract. It was filled with clauses requiring absolute discretion and restrictions of every kind. During my stay, I would be forbidden to photograph or film inside the clinic, to question the staff and, above all, to have any physical contact with the patients. It was stipulated that I would have to wear a special protective suit during the photo sessions, so as not to spread infections or other pathogens that might interfere with the patients’ recovery.

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The contract was accompanied by an extremely detailed brief describing the photographic style envisioned by each patient: atmospheres, poses, sets, costumes and make-up, largely inspired by paintings by the Old Masters.

Nokeshima remained evasive when I questioned him about the treatments or procedures carried out at his clinic. He spoke of the boundless imagination of the billionaires he treated and claimed that his clinic was unlike any other.

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“Let’s just say that, in my own modest way, I work for eternity,” he told me.

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On July 12, 2017, I boarded a plane for Vienna. After a full day on the road through dense coniferous forests, I finally reached Nokeshima’s clinic. From the outside, it looked like an old 1920s mountain hotel built entirely of granite. Perched like an eagle’s nest, it overlooked a wooded valley hidden from view.

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The events that took place within that institution, and the discoveries I made there, ultimately compelled me to make these photographs public.