RESURRECTED. After the horrific fire on April 15, 2019, which ravaged its roof and spire, Notre-Dame de Paris returns more radiant than ever. Officially reopening to the faithful and visitors on Sunday, December 8, the cathedral that the whole world saw in flames is rising from its ashes.
Thanks to a partnership with Rebuild Notre-Dame de Paris, Tomas van Houtryve, a photographer with the VII Agency who also works for National Geographic—for which he undertook an extensive visual story on the cathedral—was one of the few photographers able to closely document this inspiring human adventure. Since 2020, he has been capturing the restoration through digital photography, drone imagery, and the lens of his 19th-century large-format camera, reminiscent of the era when Eugène Viollet-le-Duc launched his grand restoration project. The black-and-white images play with time, revealing the intimacy of the stones, magnifying the sacredness of the space, and guiding the eye to contemplate every line, face, and detail of Notre-Dame.
36 Views of Notre-Dame, published by Radius Books, testifies to the meeting of a photographer and the grace of Notre-Dame, from the horror of its gutted heart after the fire to the contemplation of 800 years of history. Tomas van Houtryve spent months whispering to the gargoyles, navigating the forests of scaffolding, meeting the craftsmen at work, and searching for new vantage points around Paris. This intimate book reveals a need for transmission, anchoring in time, and transcendence. What began as a chance encounter became the adventure of a lifetime.
Blind spoke to Tomas van Houtryve about his work.
What is your first memory of Notre-Dame?
I was 16 when I visited Notre-Dame for the first time. I remember climbing up to the gallery of gargoyles. When I moved to Paris in 2006, I saw Notre-Dame like everyone else did—as an eternal monument that had survived 800 years of history, immune to any tragedy.
Had Notre-Dame ever been a photographic subject before the fire?
Never. But going back through my archives, I realized it often appeared. For example, after the Charlie Hebdo attacks, I found many photos of soldiers patrolling in front of Notre-Dame. There were many photos of the cathedral even though I hadn’t intentionally included it. I must admit I deliberately ignored Notre-Dame for years. At that stage of my career, my obsession was to photograph the unexplored, to seek the margins, and find the scoop. And Notre-Dame is one of the most photographed places in the world.
Too photographed?
It was Notre-Dame; everyone had already done it. But when you look at it, you can’t help being fascinated. Since the fire and the restoration work, there’s been a massive realization. We understand how precious and vulnerable masterpieces are. We need to protect them, observe them, and appreciate them. I regret not giving it the attention it deserved before the fire.
Yet your first photo taken with a large-format camera was of Notre-Dame…
It’s quite magical. The stars aligned. It was in 2017. I was preparing a series on the history of the Mexico-U.S. border—Lines and Lineage—and decided to buy a 19th-century large-format camera for the project. When I visited my friend Bernard Hermann, a photographer who authored a photo book on Notre-Dame, Paris km 00, his Paris apartment balcony faced Notre-Dame. I used this as an opportunity to test the wet collodion process on glass plates. I took Notre-Dame as my subject (see photo on the left). The process is finicky, but by chance, the plate developed perfectly. But at the time, it was just a test. I never imagined the fate that awaited Notre-Dame.
Where were you when the fire broke out?
I was only two kilometers from the cathedral but had to take care of my children. I couldn’t go there. The next day, I visited Bernard Hermann. He told me he had drawn the curtains and turned off his phone when he saw the first flames. He couldn’t watch; it was too painful.
For National Geographic, you were one of the few photographers allowed to document the restoration. What was your first impression upon entering the building?
My first entry into Notre-Dame was in November 2020. Getting permission took an extremely long time. We had to train for lead exposure and working at heights with harnesses. Entering required passing through airlocks, wearing disposable suits, and assisted-breathing masks—all during the COVID period and curfews. I felt like I was entering a space station.
“In the first light of day, Notre-Dame revealed itself to be completely gutted before me. I found myself facing this chasm, alone. Confronted by both sublime beauty and one of the saddest sights I’d ever seen. The debris looked like a war zone.“
The first thing I did was climb the towers without going inside. Upon reaching the top of the south tower, I faced an indescribable scene: a huge hole where the spire once stood, illuminated by the morning sun. In the dawn light, Notre-Dame was completely gutted before me. I found myself alone, faced with sublime beauty and one of the saddest sights I’d ever seen. The debris resembled a war zone. Everything was charred, destroyed, and tragic. Like a bomb crater. I leaned over, looked, and thought, Oh my God, this is horrible.
With all the gear and the mask, I felt like I was landing on Mars, like a time traveler. I experienced that moment entirely alone. Alone with that spectacle. My breath was taken away. It was hard to distinguish up from down. The place felt haunted, with those large white tarps, the charred beams, water stains, and soot. I felt the mystery and grace of the building mixed with the sadness of its destruction. Yet despite everything, a little voice in my head said, You can’t stay long; this is a privileged space—you need to take photos. There was no time for emotion. You had to absorb everything.
Did the emotion come later?
Yes, often when photographing difficult things, you have to force yourself to work, focusing on technical details. Processing what you’ve experienced comes later. If emotion overwhelms you on the spot, you can’t do your job well. Being in one of the world’s most iconic monuments, a sacred place, evokes a strong emotion. Seeing the altar’s Cross in front of the rubble was profoundly symbolic.
Your unique approach included capturing Notre-Dame with a large-format camera. Can you explain the wet collodion process on glass plates?
My lab includes bottles of collodion, developer baths, fixer, and water for rinsing. The collodion—a liquid adhesive—is applied to glass plates. The first step is thoroughly cleaning the glass. Even a speck of dust can prevent the collodion from adhering. In a light-safe box, I coat the glass with collodion and dip it into a silver nitrate bath. Still in the dark, the plate is loaded into the camera holder.
After sliding the holder into the camera, exposure times range from 4 to 8 minutes, depending on light and aperture. After exposure, I return to the dark box, apply the developer, rinse with water, then fix the plate. Each photo takes about 20 minutes.
“Sliding the holder into the camera, exposure takes 4 to 8 minutes depending on the light and aperture.”
The chemical process often produces stains and imperfections…
Photos from that era often hid imperfections with decorative mats. I’d have made a poor photographer back then! The charm now lies in embracing these imperfections with collodion. It opens a window to the past while speaking to the present moment within the same image.
“Between the cathedral walls and the void, there was barely enough room for the camera tripod. Photographing gargoyles meant clinging to the wall and balancing on a stool.”
Was photographing from Notre-Dame’s heights challenging?
Yes! Climbing hundreds of spiral steps while carrying liters of water, trays for the chemicals, the portable dark box, glass plates, tripod, and camera—about 20 kilos of gear—was exhausting. Thankfully, I had two assistants. The gallery of gargoyles is extremely narrow. Between the walls and the void, there was barely room for the tripod. For gargoyle photos, I had to cling to the wall, balancing on a stool. It was quite acrobatic.
Was there a photo that left a strong impression on you?
The one taken from the gallery of gargoyles with the snow-covered rooftops of Paris was a unique moment in my life. Seeing Paris under snow, with the gargoyles for company—even though they often turned their backs to me—was magical.
In your book, you mention the chapter This Will Kill That from Notre-Dame de Paris by Victor Hugo…
This passage deeply affected me because Hugo discusses technological progress and the destruction it can cause. He explains how the invention of the printing press compromised the central role of architecture in transmitting stories. For Hugo, Gothic architecture was the pinnacle of public storytelling since every line, opening, and stone told a story, requiring no literacy to understand. I found a unique parallel between this and how photography now faces challenges from artificial intelligence.
“I now see myself more as part of an intergenerational tradition. I view the job of a photographer much like that of a stonemason, placing myself in the same tradition as 19th-century photographers.”
Your book is titled 36 Views of Notre-Dame. Why this reference to Hokusai’s Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji?
I thought a lot and changed my approach to photography during this project. Hokusai had to create engravings of Mount Fuji when it was already extensively depicted in his time. Yet, he reinvented it. Before this project, I wasn’t capable of photographing something that was already overrepresented. I moved away from a somewhat individualistic approach to photography that didn’t consider time. I now see myself more as part of an intergenerational tradition. I view the job of a photographer much like that of a stonemason, placing myself in the same tradition as 19th-century photographers. It doesn’t matter if I’ve taken the same photo as others; it belongs to our era. We document and represent Notre-Dame. Like its builders and restorers, we are part of a story of transmission.
Could we call you a ‘companion photographer’?
In a way, yes. I feel part of a lineage of photographers. I never thought of it that way before. Notre-Dame was a revelation. Other photographers, like Patrick Zachmann from Magnum, also worked on the restoration site. Contributing to Notre-Dame transcends the individual; it becomes something greater. I see it as a collective, intergenerational project that embodies the values of transmission represented by the compagnons.
“Even during the work, without candles, incense, acoustics, or the organ, Notre-Dame retained its sacredness.”
A revelation?
I’m not particularly religious. My father’s side is Catholic, but my mother, a social worker and psychotherapist for Native Americans in the U.S., wasn’t. My family tradition is a 180-degree contrast.
Nevertheless, for me, Notre-Dame remains a profoundly sacred place. As an agnostic, when I enter Notre-Dame, I see these stones and think of the people who touched and prayed by them for 800 years. The place is imbued with faith, and you can’t deny or ignore it. These stones are also steeped in history. Beyond being a sacred site that brought hope to many, it’s at the epicenter of French politics—think of Charles de Gaulle or Napoleon’s coronation. Even during the work, with no candles, incense, familiar acoustics, or the organ, and with scaffolding dominating the space, Notre-Dame retained its sacredness.
Have you seen Notre-Dame’s new face?
I flew over it again with my drone in February and June 2024. But I haven’t seen the fully cleared interior. It will be a wonderful surprise. Though I must admit, I’m attached to the idea of Gothic architecture worn by time, darkened—Victor Hugo’s Notre-Dame. It’s somber, rich with emotion, history, and culture.
It seems an intimacy developed between you and the cathedral…
This story truly marked me. I experienced it as a life journey. Photographing Notre-Dame became an obsession. I won’t photograph it forever, but I’ll never forget it. It’s become a joke with my wife. When we pass by, she says, “Yes, yes, there’s your girlfriend, don’t worry.” My friend Bernard Hermann once told me, “Notre-Dame is now part of your life. And you’ll see, she’ll be good company.”
Book: 36 Views of Notre-Dame, Radius Books, French & English, 164 pages, €59.
Exhibition: Ellen Carey + Tomas Van Houtryve – Noir et blanc, topographies, until December 23 at Galerie Miranda in Paris.
