Body works: Photographs from the weird world of bodybuilding

Popeye biceps, rippling six-packs, and supernaturally dark tans: these pumped-up people have trained for a Scandinavian bodybuilding contest by shaking off every last ounce of fat. But even if you admire their commitment, it is hard not to recoil in confusion at such asexual specimens.

It was this reaction – something between respect and disgust – which prompted the Danish photographer Joachim Ladefoged to photograph this slew of hard-bodies. He took a mixture of black and white and colour photography at the Danish Bodybuilding Championship in 2001 and similar events in the ensuing years, underexposing the subjects to make them appear darker still. The resulting snaps are assembled in a book, Mirror (the title a nod to his models' narcissism), to be published later this year.

"For me, personally, these people are all strangely photogenic," he says. "Bodybuilding is like theatre in many ways. The tan – which they use to cast shadows across their muscles, so they can be picked out easily on stage – makes them look haunting, or like they are from another planet. This is the case with the women especially, whose fake breasts are, funnily enough, the only way you can tell them apart from the men. But while I found them awful and fascinating, it was important for me not to have an agenda. I asked them not to smile or adopt any particular position, just to be themselves. And I think they were happy someone was showing an objective interest."

Ladefoged is following in the tradition of a number of other photographers. Robert Mapplethorpe famously pictured Lisa Lyon, the first women's bodybuilding world champion, in 1982 (and indeed, was not averse to framing the odd chiselled torso throughout his career). Here, Ladefoged has no doubt drawn inspiration from not one, but many. His work falls somewhere between the sensuality of Richard Avedon and Helmut Newton, and he has the unflinching eye of Diane Arbus.

Ladefoged describes his work as "art documentary" although he explains that he spent little time becoming acquainted with his subjects – sometimes only 30 seconds – before taking their portrait. To him, his pictures pack more muscle if they stand alone without any written explanations as to who the people are and why they do what they do.

"I thought their eyes told a story," he adds. "I read in some of them that as a boy or girl they were bullied at school – that maybe they were told they were fat, or had a 'wrong' nose or looked funny. And then I felt that maybe

these people thought they would then show their peers that they could have a nice body. I think it was insecurity that I saw deep inside. I saw people who liked to show off, to go on to the beach and to put on display how great their bodies looked. Sometimes I felt it was enough to photograph just the faces, but at other times I thought the whole body was interesting."

The first time he photographed the athletes, it was in a basement thick with the smell of sweat and the cocoa oil the subjects use to put a sheen on their flesh. He says it was then that he noticed that not only were they aesthetically interesting – but that there were intriguing elements to their sport. For example, he learnt that their inflated upper bodies were the result of gruelling training regimes. These often involved months of preparation preceding any "meet", incorporating plenty of dietary sacrifices, including a ban on sweets and fatty foods. Competitors also abstained from eating any salt for a week before being judged, because salt attracts water, and it is vital that their muscles are dehydrated. This makes their veins look more prominent.

If that weren't enough, the day before a contest they eat rice cookies and down energy drinks containing vodka. The photographer says the cookies "suck the last drops of water from their muscles and the alcohol makes the blood run faster". Then to cap it all off, five coats of their dark tanning cream must be smeared on to their bodies to achieve a suitably dusky colour (each coat takes half an hour to apply). This would be hard enough to bear if it was a full-time profession, but these people are all amateurs, and have to hold down a day job, like being a fitness instructor or a chef, at the same time.

Ladefoged continues: "They suffer so much. Indeed, if you have a passion for having big muscles you go all the way. When I wanted to be a soccer player when I was young, I would have done anything to go out on the pitch. I would have gone out there on painkillers if I needed to. Some of the people I photographed – I am sure of it – have some kind of medical condition which means they have to put on weight. And some of them do it because they started training and they get addicted to the satisfaction that gives them: from going to the gym every day. If they stop training they feel like they are missing something. And that is something I can relate to."

Earlier this month Ladefoged received a grant from the Danish Film Institute to translate his project into a moving image art documentary; a European tour of both photos and future work is being planned.

"I am glad I did it," he concludes. "With this project I felt a little guilty about not doing something a bit more worthy. But I met one of my colleagues and he said you also have to have fun with what you are doing. For me it was more like playing with photography. It was about telling a story in a photographic way, not about saving the world."

'Mirror' by Joachim Ladefoged is published by Ajour, priced £33. Buy it online at viiphoto.com or forlagetajour.dk