More often, the pictures are of women on their own or in an artistic encounter with the photographer. Few of the models look directly at the camera -- their indirect glances serve as a protective mark of professional distance. "I'm shy," Louie admits. "The camera allowed me to enter those places and to meet those people."

Once inside, he finds multiple layers of social evidence. He photographs a Chinese bar girl named Ting Ting in front of star-patterned wallpaper. She appears to be in her early 20s and is wearing a miniskirt and Snoopy T-shirt, an element that subtly introduces a specter of Western influence (evidence that appears frequently in the photos). It takes a moment to notice the tag that reads "N-30" taped to her shoulder, clearly a number identifying her as merchandise. It's not easy, however, to discern her internal state as her expression is a blank, vague smile, and the lighting is at a professional level that eclipses a sense of documentary spontaneity. This, like all the others, is clearly a posed picture.

There's a similar quality to the much raunchier "Yuan Yuan, Macau," a 1999 hotel room scene that depicts a nude woman sitting in a chair, matter-of-factly exposing her genitalia. Her head is tilted back slightly into the executive-gray curtains, her face made up and her eyes hidden beneath stylish wire-rimmed sunglasses. The picture, in some ways, addresses the difficult dichotomy between body and mind with an almost shocking brazenness.

Such images raise lots of difficult questions. Are these women being demeaned or empowered? Are they exoticized or exploited? The ambivalence is much of what makes these pictures interesting, as is the way that they are framed both in the book and the exhibition.

"I didn't do anything furtively -- without the girls there would be no pictures. I paid them for their time, which introduced a collaborative nature. Most of the pictures are staged -- the women arranged themselves for the camera." Clearly the notion of the artist entering an economic transaction with a model parallels the usual parameters of the hooker/john interchange. It's a thorny, provocative aspect of these pictures that raises the obvious question: Did the artist partake in the services on the menu? Louie responds coyly: "Is taking pictures a form of sex?" Was he even tempted? "Sometimes they're sexy, they're good at their job. They know how to draw a man in.

"I'm full of contradictions and conflicts," he continues. "I implement myself, but it's not a 'Heart of Darkness' vision. I wanted to depict survivors, not victims."

Louie is quick to point out, in the standard porn terms, that all the models are over 18 (at least that's what they told him), and he's wise to avoid that political quagmire. But his project doesn't completely skirt potentially controversial topics. There are images that depict interracial desire -- a white woman with a Japanese man, an Asian female with a white man in Hong Kong -- as well as ones that point to aspects of community, commodity and fetishized identities. Louie doesn't attempt to cover all the bases. He doesn't photograph male sex workers or offer a critique of sex tourism -- an aftereffect of global capitalism that often illustrates incredible international inequities and the enduring specter of racial stereotyping. He's aware of all these things, but in the end, he admits this is more the product of an artistic vision, something that began to fascinate the artist and consumes him. He leaves the theorizing to others, especially other artists, whose work he has included in his own show to provide a historical context. Pictures by Picasso, E.J. Bellocq (famous for his early 20th century portraits of New Orleans whores -- see Brooke Shields in "Pretty Baby"), Cindy Sherman and Japanese photographer Yasumasa Morimura offer other takes on the sex industry.

Another to whom Louie turns is self-proclaimed "activist hooker" Tracy Quan, whose iconoclastic opening essay in "Orientalia" challenges various mainstream readings of the business, mainly the zones between selling fantasy and the realities of carnal commerce.

Quan writes that her job is "about enchantment, not just service." She feels a profound sense of shame when she learns that the pricing system at a Hong Kong brothel, as seen in a sign in one of Louie's pictures, is predicated on ethnicity (Malaysian and Philippine women go at bargain basement rates). Yet she also admits to identifying with the fantasy of Julia Roberts in "Pretty Woman," and weighs in on the side of pleasure over politics. She admits, for example, that for those low-priced women she hopes "not for 'social justice' ... but the outright privilege of being a special, exotic treat."

She has more pointed opinions about the hegemony of feminism. "I envy the prostitute who hasn't been confronted daily, as I was from an early age, with feminist attitudes and ideologies," writes Quan. "When I look at these pictures, I imagine that these women are much freer because they are not bogged down by feminist arguments."

Such statements seem constructed to deflect criticism, but may also fuel the show's controversy. "What does it say about the current dialog that they're contextualizing these photographs with the words of a strong, activist hooker's voice who doesn't necessarily identify with feminist or activist concerns?" ponders Tina Takemoto, a professor of visual studies at California College of the Arts in Oakland. "Would these pictures still be interesting without Quan's statements?"

"Without Tracy's kind of progressive view of sex workers, I couldn't do this project," Louie admits. "I chose to do this work to explore if an artist could successfully take on a loaded subject like that on its own terms, and not sugarcoat it." Some will argue that Louie's extremely glossy pictures, presented in the museum in an impressive, life-size scale, do just that: put a plastic product sheen on a complicated situation.

Ultimately, it's these unresolvable questions that make Louie's project memorable. It's impossible not to be seduced or rankled by them, and to clarify our own stance in relation to the issues. "At the end of the day, you have to give shape to your own experience," Louie says. "I work very intuitively. I wasn't calculating that I was going to find my roots, I just take the pictures and follow their lead."