Having just arrived in the southwestern Spanish village of Arcos de la Frontera with a government grant to teach English, the first two thoughts that I crossed my mind were the following: This Andalusian town is stunningly beautiful, and These Andalusian women are stunningly beautiful. As a photography enthusiast (and perhaps at the risk of discrediting myself), I have to admit that taking impressive-looking pictures in any of Cádiz’s pueblos blancos is, ahem, just about a sure shot.

When I started dating Esmeralda, a preschool teacher at that school and who is now my wife, it was springtime in southern Spain, which is of course feria season. While Sevilla’s April Fair is by far the most famous, nearly every village, no matter how small, boasts its own week of colorful festivals, and within a couple weeks of each other, both Jerez de la Frontera and El Puerto de Santa María each throw formidable (and fully open to the public, as opposed to in Sevilla) spring fairs.

Needless to say, the first time I saw Esme in her flamenco dress at one of these fairs, I was floored. I told her that I would love to do a photo shoot of her in full feria garb on my apartment building´s azotea (rooftop area of most Andalusian residency buildings, mostly used for hanging clothes to dry), which had a privileged view of the village, with the San Pedro and Santa María churches, and the Moorish castle, crowning the almost proto-cubist stacks which form the medieval white Old Town of Arcos.

These photographs are just two of a series which carries a great deal of emotional, and aesthetic, significance for me. I no longer live in Arcos de la Frontera — we moved to the Sevilla area a little over three years ago — and my understanding of this region and this country has grown far more complex over the last few years. But they say that first impressions can last a lifetime, and I’m determined to hold on to this vision of Spain’s simple luminous beauty as long as I can, especially during one the darkest period’s in this country’s history.

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