Retouched collections – Foto-Carvalho – Portrait, a Retoucher and Local Identity
- ccconservacao
- Jun 30
- 7 min read
Updated: Jul 6
Who shaped the studio portraits still found in family homes and albums today? This post delves into the Foto-Carvalho archive, in Estremoz, and the invisible history of photographic retouching, through the hands of Dona Esmeralda – a retoucher who, without knowing it, left a silent signature on the face of an entire town.
Memories of an Invisible Gesture
The camera has the power to capture faces, but it is often behind the scenes of the image that the most enduring memories are preserved. It was in one of those backstage moments, in an archive aged by time and by the hands that had handled it, that Dona Esmeralda was moved. A retoucher for more than thirty years at the Foto-Carvalho studio in Estremoz, she recognised traces of her own work in the negatives I was studying. Not the images themselves – we were looking at them without proper lighting – but the small gestures left on the surface: a smear of varnish, lines of graphite, a faded dye. Those marks were hers. And through them reappeared not only the portrait of the clients, but also a portrait of a time, a community, a practice.
One Studio, One Photographer, One City
Teodósio de Carvalho, a photographer from Lisbon, moved to Estremoz and opened a new Foto-Carvalho studio in the 1930s. The main photographer, however, would be his son Rogério de Carvalho (1915–1988). While still young, Rogério refined his craft in Évora, developing what would become a demanding practice and a distinctive aesthetic vision. He was known for being meticulous, for imposing poses and framing choices, and for refusing commissions he did not agree with. The townspeople still remember, with a mix of respect and exasperation, the photo sessions that required complete stillness and the patience to fulfil “Mr. Rogério’s” vision.
Foto-Carvalho was more than a business – it was a point of reference. The studio produced family portraits, wedding and party reportage, portraits of soldiers before leaving for military service, first communions and other small social rituals that marked community life. At a time when the studio portrait was a public affirmation of identity and status, the printed image was made to last, to circulate among family, to be framed or worn in a locket.
“Art is Black and White, Rogerio de Carvalho, said frequently
But the image didn’t appear by chance. Each portrait was carefully prepared: from the painted backdrop and props like armchairs, to the direction of the light, the position of the hands, or the arrangement of the clothing. And after being photographed, it was often transformed. Retouching was an integral part of the process.
Dona Esmeralda: The Face Behind the Image
My conversation with Dona Esmeralda started off shyly. She couldn’t understand why anyone would be interested in her work. In all her life, she had never met anyone outside the studio who knew what retouching was. But when she saw that I knew what each tool and material was for, it was as if that recognition gave way to her memories. She relaxed, smiled, and I saw that her time as a retoucher was something she held with emotion.
Esmeralda began working at Foto-Carvalho around the age of twenty, initially at the reception desk. Rogério de Carvalho encouraged all staff to learn every part of the studio – “This is like a piano, and everyone must know how to play all the keys,” he used to say. But Esmeralda didn’t take it as an obligation. She had a natural curiosity and would watch, from the back of the shop, the photographer’s meticulous work and all the other studio tasks.
Her eagerness to learn, along with her sensitivity and natural dexterity, led her from observer to apprentice. She learned directly from Rogério de Carvalho, who would pull up a chair and make space for her at the retouching desk when he saw her interest. Gradually, she became the one responsible for the most delicate corrections.
She continued to “play the other keys” when needed, but that’s how she became a retoucher — a role she kept until her retirement, already after Rogério de Carvalho’s death.
She preferred colouring and retouching prints: “I liked to prettify,” even if sometimes she went too far, and the boss would scold her for making the person’s features disappear.
Retouching negatives was more of a duty — she did it through repetition, because it was needed. She said it had damaged her eyesight. The work was demanding, both physically and emotionally. Each image passed through her hands, one by one. The negative was placed on a pupitre – a retouching desk with a light table covered in black cloth and side flaps, so that only the area being worked on was illuminated. She never used a magnifying glass but admitted she probably should have, as the long hours in that darkened space were tiring.
More than a technique, retouching was a craft made of attention and sensitivity. Wrinkles, blemishes, misaligned eyes, stray hairs – all were softened with graphite over varnish or careful brushstrokes of paint on paper.
Techniques, Materials and Decisions
The Foto-Carvalho collection presents a range of retouching techniques documetning the richness of this studio archive. The images reveal signs of systematic interventions: application of varnish (matolene), graphite pencil retouching, dry red dye applied with the fingertip (makeup), liquid red dye (cocim) applied with a brush, delicate scraping with blades and styluses (grattage), cardboard masks, and occasionally compositions created by cutting and pasting multiple images.
The application of matolene — a thin Damar resin-based varnish used to allow the graphite pencil to adhere — was done with cotton, usually in limited areas of the surface, only where retouching was needed. It formed the base. This was followed by pencil retouching, the most common technique, used to create optical interference (with dots and patterns to soften imperfections) or to define facial features. Makeup, applied with the fingertip and often showing fingerprint marks, was used on the face and hands to lighten the skin tone — areas often darkened by photographic emulsions insensitive to red and to the naturally rosy tone of skin. The gesture would then be “cleaned,” intensifying dark areas like eyebrows or moustaches with a stylus.
D. Esmeralda handled most of this work, but more complex retouching — such as grattage or some of the masks — was left to Rogério de Carvalho. Curiously, she was surprised to see some negatives marked as not retouched (sem retoque). For her, all studio portraits were retouched systematically. Retouching was part of the process, just as much as the pose or the print.
The Ideal Portrait: Technique, Desire, and Identity
Foto-Carvalho’s portraits are not just visual documents — they are carefully crafted constructions that combine technique, desire, and memory. The studio’s aesthetic was unmistakable: painted backdrop, angled poses, side lighting, a slight body twist and head tilt. Many of these elements were planned to reduce the need for heavy retouching, but when necessary, retouching completed this idealised construction — even if the traces of that labour were no longer visible in the final prints. The goal of retouching was always to be invisible. If the retouching was noticeable, it meant it had been poorly done.
Studio photography had a clear social function: to represent the best version of oneself. At a time when some people only visited a studio once in their lifetime — and, that portrait, might be the only formal image they ever had — the picture had to last, and it had to please. It was given to family, kept in albums, sent to fiancés or emigrated children. For soldiers passing through Estremoz’s military barracks, it was a gesture of farewell and affirmation. For families visiting the Santiago Fair in July, it was part of the celebration.
Retouching was not a trick or deception — it was a visual pact. Dona Esmeralda spoke fondly of her role in that process: “I liked to make them beautiful.” And if she sometimes went too far, it was because she knew the final image would be displayed, framed, seen by many. Retouching served not only to correct imperfections, but to align the portrait with an ideal of self-presentation and respectability.
An Archive of Faces and Gestures
The Foto-Carvalho collection consists mostly of negatives, as is common with studio archives. These negatives were kept by the studio to allow for reprints at the client’s request. But the fact that Foto-Carvalho operated in a small town, maintaining long-standing relationships with its clients, offers something rare: today, it is still possible to find prints in most family homes in Estremoz. These prints are stamped on the back with the corresponding negative number. Now, they allow for a reunion — enabling direct comparison between the original negative and the printed image from the time.
This possibility is almost nonexistent in other collections and is one of the reasons why this archive is so important. It allowed for the study of how the photographic image was constructed — from the photographer’s gesture to the retouching and final printing. And it allows us to recognise the value of invisible technical gestures that shaped the visual culture of a time.
Many institutions with similar collections exhibit modern enlargements made from negatives, as if the negative were the final object. By comparing negatives with prints from Foto-Carvalho, we see that even when the image is constructed at the negative stage, further decisions are made during printing — framing, tonal choices, contrast, additional retouching, or even colouring.
Rogério de Carvalho was undoubtedly the public face of the studio. But the work of Dona Esmeralda — and of many others like her — shows that the history of retouching is made of unwritten knowledge, manual practices, and silent dedication. By revisiting this archive, we are not merely looking at the past. We are recognising, with rigour and without romanticism, the value of a form of knowledge that was meant to remain invisible.
The next post in the “Retouched Collections” series will be dedicated to the Foto-Estefânia Studio — a unique case of commercial portraiture and popular aesthetics in Lisbon.
If you visit Estremoz, stop by Estúdios Correia!
The Foto-Carvalho archive is currently preserved by this team, which still operates as a photography studio.
Book a session, or — if you have old Foto-Carvalho portraits at home — check the number on the back and request a reprint from the original negative.
Special thanks to Paulo Correia and his family for allowing me to study this unique collection.
