Almost all Victorian portraits were taken in a studio. By 1860, the carte de visite ( a sepia photograph on a 4.25” x 2.5” card mount) had started to become popular and the number of studios soon grew enormously in the cities and towns, and even in some villages.

Prices varied considerably as photographers chose their niche markets, from Camille Silvy in London and Sarony in Scarborough serving the rich and famous through to the back street studios catering for ‘the people’.

Which photographer to choose, though? People tended to use their local studio but, where there was a choice, advertisements in newspapers and directories were often helpful.

The ads were often extravagant, such as those by Russell & Sons in Windsor which listed more than 150 of their distinguished customers from royalty to MPs. Meanwhile Ephraim Pope Short in Nottingham advertised “Studio, reception and dressing rooms all on the ground floor” for the old and infirm. One photographer even boasted “escalator recently installed”.

Sittings could be booked in advance and advice on the best time of day was sometimes offered. Mornings had better light than the afternoons and, of course, until artificial lighting became available in 1877, all photographs had to be taken in daylight hours. Herbert Salmon from London advertised “Studio open from 9 till dusk” – and even on Sundays in some cases.

Most sitters chose their ‘Sunday best’, although a few were photographed in their uniforms or working clothes or even in wedding apparel or party outfits. Bearing in mind that photographs were only sepia in colour, studios often advised clients on which colours were best to wear and which to avoid. According to Blomfield & Co., Hastings, “yellows, reds and greens appear darker in the photograph whilst blues, mauves and light pinks appear lighter”.

Edmund S Baker of Birmingham illustrated both his studio and his works on his letterhead, which reveals what the customer saw and what he did not. The skylight of the studio can be clearly seen above the shop but the works out the back would not be seen by the customer.

Arriving at the studio would be an unusual experience for many. Some studios were grand buildings with plush entrances and reception rooms and even the more modest ones must have had an air of magic and mystery about them for the first time visitor. Even temporary studios from big companies could be very grand indeed.

In the reception, sitters would be able to see photographs of previous clients decorating the walls and examples of framed images – and even some that were hand coloured. Some studios, such as Barrauds of London, insisted on payment being made before the sittings took place.

With the formalities over, the customer would be ushered into the camera room while anyone else usually remained in reception – except in the case of pictures of babies or toddlers.

The sitter would be faced with a large wooden camera on an ornate tripod, somewhere to stand or sit and, in most cases, a painted background depicting an urban or rural scene.

Up above was a glass skylight with moveable shades to help control the direction and intensity of the light but later this was replaced by artificial light – yet another strange piece of equipment for sitters to be confronted with.

It was so important to keep absolutely still in the 1860s to avoid a blurred picture, but exposure times shortened significantly when the more sensitive dry plates were introduced in the 1880s.

The photographer used several devices to achieve this but the strangest was the head clamp that held the back of the head still but was out of sight of the camera.

Sometimes standing portraits of men reveal the base of the clamp and this appears to have been acceptable in the 1860s. Alternatively, portraits often show the subject leaning an elbow on a pile of books or the back of a chair to steady the head.

Babies and toddlers presented a particular challenge. In the 1870s, Samuel Willis of Manchester advised that “All children are charged 1/- extra in consequence of the extra trouble generally required”. This ‘trouble’ was often overcome by using a small chair to constrain them or by tying them in with a tartan or silken sash.

Some photographs of the era even show a parental hand coming in from one side; without a parental body attached!

To take the likeness, the camera operator put a photographic glass plate in the camera, posed the sitter as appropriate and removed the lens cap. The cap was replaced when the exposure was complete and the photographer would move the back of the camera to the correct position for the next shot. Carte de visite cameras were designed to take multiple exposures (usually six or nine) on one glass plate and this enabled the photographer to develop and print all of a customer’s images simultaneously. This kept the price down, kept all related images together and provided a proof sheet for customers to choose from.

When the pictures were available the customer would usually visit the studio again to select the favoured shots and decide how many copies to buy, whether to have cartes de visite, cabinet cards (after 1866) or enlargements and to consider having some coloured by hand.

Most studios carried out a colouring service themselves but others sent the sepia photographs away to a dedicated colourist. The more expensive coloured enlargements generally required the colourist or artist to meet the customer to decide on colour matching and any other specific requirements such as hiding blemishes and so on.

Sarony of Scarborough charged 125 guineas for a giant coloured enlargement measuring 56” x 38” – and 25 guineas extra if a dog was included! Enlarging and framing services were also available at an extra cost. Payment was made and a receipt issued. Then it was time to go home and wait.

Finished orders were usually advised by mail, by telephone in later years, and many customers picked up their orders. On occasions pictures would be sent by post or carrier depending on the customer’s status and where they lived. Sarony’s clients came to Scarborough from all over the country.

The trip to the photographers had now been completed but there was still a little more to do.

Many families had lovely leather albums for their treasured photographs and the right photographs needed to be put in the right places. If only our Victorian relatives had written the names and dates on their photographs as well!

Spare copies purchased for the purpose would be selected and posted to relatives at home and abroad. Often, many years later, it was common to ask the photographer for additional copies, especially when a relative passed away. Because of this it was important to make a note of the date that the photographs were taken and to ensure that any reference numbers were recorded for accurate identification, if those precious glass plate negatives were ever required in the future.