Bablo & InkRemedy
You know, Bablo, I was just wondering how the price of a painstaking restoration can actually increase an artwork’s market value, and what you think about that trade‑off between keeping history intact and making a profit.
If you restore a piece properly, you give it a new, clean face that people love to see, and that clean look makes buyers willing to pay more. But the trick is not to wipe away the history that gives it soul. It’s a balancing act—if you over‑clean, you lose authenticity and the market can backfire; if you under‑clean, the piece stays underpriced. Get it right, and you turn a fixer‑upper into a jewel and make a tidy profit.
Right, a fresh surface can make a piece shine, but it can also erase the very character that tells its story. If you scrub too hard you lose the patina that collectors prize, and the piece can end up worth less than the original. I hate watching a work go from a living history to a glossy copy because some people think a cleaner face always sells better.
You’re spot on—patina is part of the narrative, not just a coating. The best restorers read the story before they touch it, preserving those subtle scars. A glossy finish might fetch a quick buck, but true connoisseurs pay more for integrity. The real edge? Knowing when to polish and when to let the history breathe. That’s what turns a sale into a legacy.
Exactly, the patina is the piece’s breathing room, not a surface to polish away. I can’t stand the idea that a glossy sheen earns a higher price, when a few carefully preserved scars can tell a richer tale and command a fairer fee. A good restorer knows the difference between cleaning a canvas and erasing its soul.