A portrait feature for Vogue France

Architecture has always been photographed as evidence. For Frédéric Chaubin, it is something altogether more elusive: a psychological landscape, where memory, ideology and fantasy quietly inhabit concrete.

Over the past two decades, the French photographer, editor and visual storyteller has transformed the language of architectural photography, revealing the surreal poetry hidden within forgotten structures. His images are less concerned with documenting buildings than with uncovering the cultural myths they conceal—each frame suspended somewhere between historical record and cinematic fiction.

To encounter a Chaubin photograph is to question whether architecture is ever truly objective.

His path towards photography was, characteristically, anything but linear.

“I studied law,” he laughs. “Very unsuccessfully, for far too long.”

The admission arrives with the dry wit of someone who has long since embraced detours as part of the creative process. Law offered certainty; photography offered curiosity. It was only after joining the editorial world that image and text began to merge into a singular way of seeing—a visual practice shaped as much by storytelling as by composition.

“I realised photography wasn’t about recording reality,” he reflects. “It was about revealing another layer beneath it.”

That instinct—to search beyond appearances—has defined his career.

Raised with an insatiable fascination for the extraordinary, Chaubin recalls an early childhood encounter off the coast of Malaysia, where the sight of an immense creature emerging from the sea became less a memory than a metaphor. The experience left him with a lasting conviction that the world contains more mystery than certainty—a philosophy that continues to guide his work today.

It is this childlike openness that distinguishes his photographs from conventional architectural documentation. Rather than pursuing technical perfection, he searches for atmosphere: the emotional residue embedded within walls, facades and forgotten landscapes.

“Photography,” he says, “is about capturing the spirit of a place. The architecture is only the beginning.”

His celebrated explorations of late Soviet architecture exemplify that approach. Monumental structures, often dismissed as relics of ideology, are reimagined through his lens as futuristic monuments, dreamlike relics suspended between utopia and collapse. In Chaubin’s hands, concrete becomes unexpectedly romantic.

The process, however, is rarely comfortable.

One assignment led him to a deserted harbour terminal in St Petersburg during the depths of winter, where temperatures dropped so dramatically that both photographer and camera nearly surrendered to the cold.

“My camera simply stopped working,” he recalls. “Fortunately, a Russian officer—and a generous bottle of vodka—proved remarkably effective.”

The anecdote is told with characteristic understatement, yet it speaks to a broader truth about Chaubin’s practice. His work demands patience, endurance and an almost obsessive commitment to finding places that exist outside conventional narratives.

At a moment when photography is increasingly consumed through the endless rhythm of digital scrolling, Chaubin remains devoted to slowness. His images invite contemplation rather than instant recognition. They ask viewers to inhabit ambiguity, to linger within silence, and to reconsider architecture not merely as design, but as a repository of collective memory.

Perhaps that is why his work feels so remarkably contemporary.

In an age obsessed with transparency and immediacy, Frédéric Chaubin reminds us that the most compelling images are those that resist explanation. They do not simply show us the world.

They persuade us to imagine it differently.

 FREDERIC CHAUBIN

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, tell us about the patchwork of your past, the streets and shadows that shaped you.

FREDERIC: – I unsuccessfully studied law for years until I started asking myself if I was mentally disabled. Law was not my thing. So I turned my back to it. Later on, by chance, I managed the editorial part of a magazine. I had always dreamed of producing a personal vision, combining my pictures and words into a particular work. There, I could achieve this goal through specific features related to architecture.

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, paint us a picture of your upbringing—those formative years spent navigating the labyrinthine streets of life, where each cobblestone held a story, and every corner whispered secrets of your growth and evolution.

FREDERIC: – This is one of the earliest memories of my childhood. Maybe it’s just a figment of my imagination:

“I am 4 or 5 years old. On a boat sailing around Port Dickson in Malaysia, I unexpectedly caught a glimpse of the huge caudal fin of a fish, maybe some sort of whale, standing above the surface before diving into the deep. Then the sea is calm again. No one has seen it except me.”

 

FREDERIC: – The grown-ups don’t really care. So I have to keep it for myself. I’m left alone with the frustration of not sharing this fabulous vision… This is why I now keep track of what seems extraordinary to me.

DT 500 ZINE: -How often do you find yourself drifting back into the mosaic of your childhood memories, Fred? Do they come to you like waves lapping at the shore, or do they linger, like echoes in the quiet corners of your mind?

FREDERIC: – According to Waldo Emerson:

“ We spend most of our life building our own house until the day we get locked inside. We start framing the world, and then the world frames us.”

“But children still ignore doors and fences. They explore. They bypass reality. In some way, they are superheroes. Childhood is a time of superheroes confronting a world of giants. This state of mind, the ability that children have to marvel at things, is what you need to stick to. If not, Art turns into a social commentary or commonplace.”

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, could you take us back to that defining moment when your passion for photography first took root? How did it all begin for you, weaving its way into the fabric of your life, shaping your perspective through each captured image?

FREDERIC: – It starts with an emotion brought by seeing an object or a subject. My aim is usually to manage to frame this sentiment. It’s difficult to say if you catch or build the result.

DT 500 ZINE: –  Do you remember your first picture framed?

FREDERIC: – I was probably around 8 years old. I took some pictures of a bullfight. When the film of my tiny Kodak Instamatic camera was processed, I discovered with surprise that the characters were petite-sized; they seemed lost in print. They didn’t look so far when I photographed them. For the first time, I was facing the effect of lens distortion.

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, when it comes to selecting the perfect subject to photograph, what’s your approach?

FREDERIC: – It’s a combination of the building’s visual strength and the dramatic potential of its background. My favourite set is a Construction recommended to me by the Snøhetta architects. It’s a summer house located on Norway’s southern coast, a cabin built in the sixties by Bengt Espen Knutsen for his own purpose. At a distance, it looks like a couple of matchboxes left on the ground, hidden among the rocks. It’s some kind of modest perfection.

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, amidst your quest for modest perfection, what elements or influences serve as pillars supporting your creative journey? Is there a particular source of inspiration, a routine, or perhaps a muse that consistently fuels your artistic process?

FREDERIC: –

“I try to get closer to the edge, into a disorienting state of mind.”

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, could you delve into the genesis of this idea—was it sparked by a moment of inspiration, shaped over time through experimentation, or perhaps influenced by personal experiences that moulded it into fruition?

FREDERIC: – Just by chance. Serendipity! I just noticed these buildings that no one had documented earlier. I only had an acute eye and grabbed the opportunity. Then, the rest went on like a treasure hunt.

DT 500 ZINE: – would you describe yourself as an adventurer?

FREDERIC: – I wanted to feature a picture of the Leningrad harbour terminal lost in the mist in a way that would recall Caspar David Friedrich’s romanticism in the book. To do so, I had to risk myself in the frozen waters of the Gulf of Finland. On that winter day, the temperature was minus 28 degrees Celsius. After two or three shots, the lens was blinded with condensation, and the shutter release went blocked. I couldn’t feel my fingers.

” The Russian guy at my side suggested we’d ask the Saint Petersburg Coast Guards for help. After a thirty-minute walk, we arrived half-frozen at their headquarters. The local officer invited us in for a drink. It took us an entire bottle of whiskey and an hour of drinking binge before he drove us back on the ice with isothermal clothes and his over-craft. Thank God, the few pictures I had taken previously turned out to be good because the last ones were totally out of focus. “

 

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, what draws you to the allure of Soviet architecture? Is it the imposing grandeur of monumental structures, each bearing the weight of history and ideology in their concrete facades? Or perhaps it’s the stark contrast between functionalism and the human stories hidden within the austere lines and vast public spaces?

FREDERIC: –  the Soviet Union tells the story of a utopia that turned into a dystopia, a fascinating disaster. This is what makes it aesthetically so attractive to people.

DT 500 ZINE: – Le Corbusier’s vision of demolishing Paris’s old buildings to replace them with modern high-rise blocks sparked intense debate and continues to provoke reflection on urban planning and architectural heritage. What are your thoughts on this ambitious proposal, Fred? Do you believe in the potential benefits of modernization, or do you see value in preserving the historical fabric and charm of cities like Paris?

FREDERIC: Le Corbusier is a controversial figure who is blamed or celebrated according to the day’s trend. He is the guru of Modernism worshipers. I’m not one of them. I don’t believe in the Messiah. Modernism was the primary dogma of the last century, a mindset that belonged to the West and Soviet Ideology. This rigid system gave birth to extensive forests of inhuman beehives. Now, we have to cope with the outcome. I don’t feel any nostalgia. And Thank God Paris has been preserved. I’m reluctant about any system where individuality gets drowned in dubious collective values.

DT 500 ZINE:- What principles guide your theories on architectural ensembles, Fred? Do you believe in the harmony of complementary structures, each contributing to a unified whole that enhances the urban landscape? Or do you find intrigue in the juxtaposition of contrasting styles, creating a dialogue between old and new, tradition and innovation? Share with us your insights into how architectural ensembles shape our built environment and cultural identity.

FREDERIC: – I believe that shapes speak. The most oversized and dramatic buildings erected in the USSR had an apparent symbolic meaning. One of their aims was to express the transcendence of power, the strength of the Soviet Empire. To some extent, they represented some kind of “monumental theology”. They were the shrines of the Marxist profane religion. Later, when everything started falling apart in the late seventies and eighties, some local architects began trespassing against the rules, trying to shape their way out of this Orwellian world. There was a colossal craving for fulfilment. Hopelessness had been the mood until then.

” An artist of that time used to express this state of mind by painting beheaded crowds crossing urban locations, streets, factories, railway stations. But suddenly, you didn’t have to break the rules anymore. They were crumbling. These architects had to invent new shapes. They hadn’t been taught how to do so. This is how some DIY metaphysics took place, illustrated by the weirdest architecture of the period.”

DT 500 ZINE: – when contemplating the essence of architecture, what do you believe is its overarching purpose? Is it to provide functional spaces for human activity, to inspire through aesthetic beauty, or perhaps to shape and define cultural identities and aspirations? How do you perceive architecture’s role in both reflecting and influencing society and what ideals or principles do you prioritize in your own architectural endeavours?

FREDERIC: – Literally to bring shelter to people. But in a more understated way, it frames culture and ideology.

 DT 500 ZINE: – do you draw or paint sometimes? 

FREDERIC: – A long time ago, I drew storyboards. Sometimes, I grab a pencil. But discovering other people’s work is more thrilling. This is how I feed my brain. The favourite is always the latest on the list. Last summer, it was Romualdas Silinskas, a leading architect of the period I’m focused on, and I discovered his erotic drawings. It’s Kamo Gyanjyan, a “cosmic” Armenian artist who also used to work in Soviet times. I’m collecting their works. 

DT 500 ZINE: – Paris is renowned for its rich cultural tapestry and architectural splendor. How has this iconic city influenced your creative vision and personal growth? Has its vibrant history, artistic ambiance, or the timeless elegance of its urban design left a lasting impression on your work and aspirations?

FREDERIC: – French people love socialite practices. I’m not really into it.

” I move more or less every three years from one district to another. It keeps me from getting fossilised.”

DT 500 ZINE: – Fred, as you navigate your current creative landscape, could you provide us with a glimpse into the projects that currently occupy your time and passion? Whether they involve groundbreaking designs, innovative collaborations, or the revitalization of historic spaces, we’re eager to hear about the endeavors shaping your architectural journey.

FREDERIC: More architecture, nude art photography, or anything that moves me.

When asked about his views on architecture and its purpose, Chaubin waxed poetic, “Architecture isn’t just about bricks and mortar; it’s the frame that captures the zeitgeist of a culture.” His disdain for conformity and admiration for the avant-garde shine through in his ongoing projects, which span from the architectural grandeur of Soviet relics to the delicate artistry of nude photography.

Fredéric Chaubin’s interview on DT 500 ZINE wasn’t just a showcase of his artistic prowess but a testament to his fearless spirit and unwavering commitment to storytelling through the lens. As he continues to defy convention and capture the essence of architectural marvels, Chaubin remains a luminary in the world of contemporary photography.

About Fredéric Chaubin: Fredéric Chaubin is a trailblazing photographer celebrated for his evocative portrayal of architectural landscapes. With a career spanning unconventional beginnings to global acclaim, Chaubin’s work challenges perceptions and inspires awe with its narrative depth and artistic brilliance.

DT 500 ZINE: – Merci beaucoup Frédéric!

INTERVIEW BY babes © Arthur Sopin n Andreas Rod 

ARTISTS KAMO GYANJYAN,Romualdas Silinskas,
Hakov Hakobyan – © Erevan modern art museum