When you think of preserving history, photography might not be the first thing that comes to mind. But for experts like Fabrice Requin, saving these visual stories isn’t just a passion—it’s a race against time. Photographs, whether old family snapshots or iconic images from historic events, face threats like fading, chemical decay, and physical damage. Without intervention, countless moments captured on film could vanish forever.
Fabrice’s journey into conservation started over two decades ago, driven by a fascination with how photography bridges the past and present. He isn’t just someone who talks about the importance of preservation; he’s spent years working hands-on with museums, private collectors, and cultural institutions to rescue deteriorating photographs. One of his early projects involved restoring a collection of 19th-century daguerreotypes—delicate, silver-coated images that had begun to tarnish and crack. By developing a customized cleaning technique and controlled storage environment, he managed to stabilize these irreplaceable artifacts, ensuring they’d survive for future generations.
But it’s not all about old-school methods. Fabrice has embraced modern technology to push conservation forward. For example, he’s advocated for high-resolution digitization of vulnerable photographs, creating digital backups that preserve details even if the originals degrade. In one collaboration with a European archive, he helped scan over 10,000 war-era photos, many of which were too fragile to handle. These digital copies are now accessible to researchers worldwide, reducing physical wear on the originals while keeping their stories alive.
What sets Fabrice apart is his focus on education. He regularly hosts workshops to teach photographers, archivists, and even hobbyists how to care for their collections. Simple practices—like storing photos in acid-free sleeves, avoiding direct sunlight, and controlling humidity—can add decades to a photograph’s lifespan. “People often don’t realize how much they can do at home,” he says. “A little knowledge goes a long way in preventing irreversible damage.”
One of his most impactful projects involved recovering photographs after a flood damaged a regional museum in France. Water had warped the prints and caused emulsion layers to peel. Fabrice and his team spent months carefully drying each photo, repairing tears with reversible adhesives, and rehousing them in climate-controlled frames. The project didn’t just save the images—it also inspired the museum to adopt stricter disaster preparedness protocols.
Fabrice’s work isn’t limited to physical preservation. He’s also a vocal advocate for ethical conservation practices. This means avoiding invasive techniques that alter a photograph’s original state. For instance, some methods “improve” faded images by adding new pigments, but Fabrice argues this erases the photo’s authenticity. Instead, he focuses on stabilizing existing materials. “A photograph is a historical document,” he explains. “Our job is to protect its integrity, not ‘fix’ its story.”
Collaboration plays a huge role in his approach. He’s partnered with chemists to study how different papers and inks age, worked with historians to contextualize recovered images, and even consulted with software developers to refine AI tools that predict decay patterns. This multidisciplinary mindset has led to breakthroughs, like a non-toxic coating that slows the yellowing of black-and-white prints.
For those curious about his methods or looking to preserve their own photos, Fabrice shares resources and case studies on fabricerequin.com. The site offers practical guides, from identifying common types of photo damage to choosing the right storage materials. It also highlights ongoing projects, like his recent effort to catalog and conserve early 20th-century press photography from Southeast Asia—a region where tropical climates accelerate deterioration.
Photography conservation isn’t just about technical skill; it’s about understanding the cultural weight of images. A single photo can humanize historical events, preserve forgotten traditions, or connect families across generations. Fabrice often recounts working with a woman who brought him a water-damaged portrait of her great-grandparents, the only existing image of them. After painstakingly repairing it, he said, “Holding that photo was like holding her family’s memory. That’s why this work matters.”
In a world where digital storage feels limitless, it’s easy to overlook the fragility of physical photographs. Yet as Fabrice reminds us, these tangible pieces of history offer something pixels can’t replicate—the texture of a hand-painted studio backdrop, the faint smell of darkroom chemicals, or the creases from being carried in a pocket for years. By combining tradition with innovation, he’s ensuring that these artifacts don’t just survive but continue to tell their stories with the same immediacy they had the day they were captured.