Retouched collections – Seeing the Invisible
- ccconservacao
- 15 hours ago
- 7 min read
A significant portion of photographic heritage remains unseen. Not because it lacks relevance or beauty, but because it is hidden in archival boxes, in fragile paper envelopes, catalogued as “negatives.” Unlike the photographic prints that populate exhibitions, or the digital reproductions that circulate online, these negatives often remain in the shadows – physically and symbolically – mostly because there is no direct way of showing them. Yet, they hold vital clues about photographic practice, visual culture, and the history of image-making itself.
Most of the time, what it is valued and interpreted in photography is the final image: the printed positive, the framed portrait, the publication. Photographic negatives are not the photographer’s final product, yet they are not simply technical intermediaries or steps in a process. They are material artefacts in their own right – bearing evidence of decisions, adjustments, retouchings, and sometimes even dissent with the established historical conception of what constitutes the aesthetics and photographic practice of a time.
This introduces a series of texts to be published regularly under “retouched collections” that draws from an object-based study of six Portuguese photographic collections, dating from the early to mid-twentieth century. The negatives examined here – mostly dry plate glass negatives – reveal consistent and deliberate interventions made by hand. Retouching, in particular, emerges as a key practice: an aesthetic, technical, and cultural gesture that shaped the image before it was even printed. Through these case studies, it is proposed to reposition the negative not as a secondary or derivative object, but as a central witness to photographic labour and intention.
From Image to Object: A Shift in Focus
Throughout the twentieth century, both photography criticism and curatorial practice have tended to privilege the image over the object. The shift away from material concerns was not accidental: it was driven by the development of dissemination platforms such as illustrated magazines, printed albums, and, more recently, digital repositories. These media reproduce the image, often stripped of its material context.
Many landmark exhibitions, including The Family of Man (1955) curated by Edward Steichen, adopted this logic by presenting modern enlargements derived from original prints or negatives – treating them as interchangeable with the photographer’s intended outputs. Similar examples in Portugal include the exhibitions Manual do Cidadão (1998), organized by the Centro Português de Fotografia, centred on the work of Aurélio da Paz dos Reis, and Um Homem tem Duas Sombras, curated by Luís Pavão e Nuno Faria (2014), on Carlos Relvas. Both were reviewed by Portuguese critic Alexandre Pomar, who criticised the lack of attention to original prints – the actual physical products of the photographer’s work, instead presenting prints direct from the preserved negatives as if they were the photographer’s original intention. He highlighted how such curatorial approaches result in reinterpretations of the photographer’s aesthetic, describing the effect as a form of “curatorial deceit”.
This tendency to overlook the material object particularly affects collections of negatives. Rarely displayed or analysed form the material perspective, negatives have often been regarded as incomplete or in need of translation. And yet, they are full of information: pencil marks, red dyes, varnish layers, fingerprints, inscriptions, and even traces of handling. These marks are not to be overlooked or regarded as mistakes – they are the visible remnants of studio work, of choices and revisions, the history and even the aesthetics of the time. In some cases, they reveal more about the photographic process than the final print itself.
Towards a Material Reading of Photography
At the turn of the twenty-first century, a renewed interest in photographic materiality emerged, particularly among conservators and photographic historians. General histories such as Tom Ang’s Photography (2014) and Jacob Bañuelos Capistrán’s Fotomontage (2008) reflect this shift, as do several exhibitions that sought to reassert the value of the original or “vintage” photographic object – including Eyes Wide Open! 100 Years of Leica Photography (2014), curated by Hans-Michael Koetzle and The Impressionists and Photography (2019), curated by Paloma Alarcó.
One particularly striking attempt to foreground the negative as object was Celebrating the Negative (2010), a photographic exhibition by John Loengard. Rather than displaying negatives directly, it presented positive prints of people holding negatives in their hands – subtly reminding viewers that the photographic image has a physical, tactile origin.
Showing negatives as primary artefacts – whether on illuminated tables, alongside prints, or as standalone objects – contributes to their cultural and institutional recognition. This is more common in exhibitions focused on photographic techniques or history, but remains rare in shows dedicated to a single photographer, even when negatives are the only surviving material.
Portuguese photo-historian António Sena, recognising the immense value of negatives, has also criticised the tendency to exhibit modern prints made from negatives without due attribution or analysis. He notes that such practices, often lacking in proper research and documentation, risk distorting our understanding of a photographer’s work and intentions (Sena, 1998, pp. 355–369).
Reclaiming the Negative: A Case-Based Approach
The research – for the PhD in Conservation – adopts an object-centred methodology focused on observing negatives – in hand, under and over light, and within their archival context. The study looks not only at retouching techniques, but also at how they relate to studio practices, social conventions, and the broader visual culture of the time. The findings are grounded in the examination of six photographic collections from different regions and institutional contexts in Portugal, all dating from the early to mid-twentieth century.
These collections are:
Fotografia Alvão (Centro Português de Fotografia – CPF, Porto)
A nationally recognised studio active from the early 1900s, known for its portraiture and official commissions. The selected negatives reflect shifts in aesthetic conventions and retouching practices over time.
Foto-Carvalho (Estúdios Correia, Estremoz)
A small-town studio with a continuous production history. Many negatives reveal extensive manual retouching with pencil and dyes. The persistence of dry plate use into the 1950s, and the involvement of a female retoucher, make this collection especially significant. Some original prints could be traced for comparison.
Foto-Estefânia (Lupa – Luís Pavão Lda., Lisbon)
A small studio collection of 71 negatives (18×24 cm), accompanied by surviving retouching tools and oral testimonies from the last studio owner. The materials allow for a rare reconstruction of the technical environment and workflow of a Lisbon neighbourhood studio.
Coleção de Negativos e Provas (NEG collection, Arquivo Fotográfico da Câmara Municipal de Lisboa – AFCML, Lisbon)
A heterogeneous municipal archive comprising over 4000 negatives of varied origin. The collection was digitised and offers insight into conservation and public access strategies.
Celebrities’ Portraits – Aurélio da Paz dos Reis (CPF, Porto)
A collection of stereoscopic portraits by an amateur photographer and public figure. The negatives exhibit subtle "three-dimensional" retouching applied to portraits of public personalities – demonstrating unexpected technical sophistication and blurring the line between amateur and professional practice.
Anthropology and Zoology Collections (Museu de História Natural e Ciência da Universidade do Porto – MHNC-UP, Porto)
Negatives created in a scientific context for teaching and documentation purposes. Retouching was employed to enhance legibility, clarify contours, and prepare for publication – revealing that even within the realm of scientific “objectivity”, images were actively constructed.
The Exhibition “Memória Recapturada”: Making the Negative Visible
As part of this research, the exhibition Memória Recapturada was organised to highlight one of the studied collections – the Foto-Carvalho archive. The exhibition aimed to recreate aspects of the studio experience and foreground the role of the negative in image-making. It featured both modern enlargements and original prints, studio props (including a turn-of-the-century painted backdrop and a camera), and, crucially, a retouching desk (modern replica) fitted with artificial lighting. Display cases showed retouching tools and other studio equipment, along with technical manuals and objects used for staging the studio portraits.
This attempt to “show the invisible” in a museum context was not simply an exercise in nostalgia. It responded to the broader need – both in conservation and public history – to treat photographic archives, particularly the negatives as more than repositories of latent images. They are traces of intention, work, and time.
Beyond Technique: Retouching as Cultural Practice
One of the recurring arguments in this research is that retouching should not be reduced to a technical correction. It is a cultural act, shaped by aesthetic preferences, social expectations, and commercial constraints. The retouched negative stands as a testament to the negotiated image – a site where vanity meets convention, and where the roles of photographer, retoucher, and client intertwine.
Portraiture, in particular, emerges as a genre where retouching was both expected and refined. Faces were softened, blemishes removed, waists narrowed, a pocket square adjusted. Such interventions followed not only aesthetic trends, but also gendered expectations and market logic. As revealed in several examples, these gestures – frequently executed by female studio workers – come retouchers whose labour, like the negative itself, remained mostly invisible.
Even in scientific photography, retouching was present. In the anthropology and zoology collections studied, it was observed manual adjustments designed to highlight anatomical features, correct exposures, or enhance clarity. These were not attempts to deceive, but to make information visible. Still, they remind us that no photographic image – not even the “objective” one – is free from construction.
Concluding Thoughts: Looking Again
To study photographic negatives is to look at what is usually hidden – both materially and historically. It is also to challenge long-standing hierarchies between image and object, intention and execution, visibility and absence. This series of texts aims to foreground that challenge by offering a closer look at six collections where the negative is not an intermediary, but a record of the photographic process itself.
As José Orraca – (pioneer in the field of photographic conservation, 1938-2009) – reminds us, looking is not passive. It is a method – and, in conservation, a responsibility. To look at a negative is to read what others left behind: traces of light, yes, but also of touch.
“To understand all aspects of the work of art you need to do more than read, you need to see. Studying one albumen print, or even ten, does not tell you everything you need to know. At every opportunity my intention was to observe and to discern by the simple act of seeing.” (José Orraca)
Coming next: Foto-Carvalho: Portraiture, Retouchers, and Local Identity
