How Dog Training changed the way I see photography

When I first started photographing dogs, I was chasing the perfect portrait. I wanted the dog sitting beautifully, looking straight into the camera, with a stunning backdrop that made the image stand out. Like many photographers, I experimented with textured backgrounds and even black backgrounds, hoping I’d create something that felt different.

But no matter what I tried, I was never completely happy. The photographs were nice, but they didn’t quite say anything. They didn’t feel like me.

Everything changed when Hedingham Hounds invited me to photograph their training classes.

Very quickly I realised I wasn’t going to come away with the traditional portraits I had been aiming for. Dogs and owners were constantly moving, working together, learning and encouraging one another. There wasn’t time to ask for a pose or wait for the perfect head tilt.

Instead of fighting against it, I decided to embrace it.

I became fascinated by the relationship between each dog and their owner. Sometimes I could capture those moments of connection, but often the owners were surrounded by other people or the scene became too busy. Rather than seeing that as a limitation, I started looking at things differently.

I began using just a hand reaching out, a pair of walking boots beside a dog, or the subtle gesture of a lead being held. By leaving the owner’s face out of the frame, the photographs became more universal. The anonymity allowed the viewer to focus on the relationship rather than the individual, inviting them to imagine the story for themselves.

As the weeks went by, I watched nervous dogs become more confident. I saw trust developing, communication improving, and tiny victories that would have gone unnoticed if I’d only been searching for perfect portraits.

Those genuine reactions became the photographs I wanted to make.

I also found myself drawn to black and white. If colour wasn’t adding anything to the image, removing it allowed the emotion, body language and connection to take centre stage. Without the distraction of colourful training equipment or busy backgrounds, the story became clearer.

Photographing the classes taught me far more than camera settings ever could. It taught me patience. It taught me to anticipate moments rather than create them. Most importantly, it helped me discover a style of photography that finally felt authentic.

Today, I still appreciate a beautiful portrait, but what excites me most are the unscripted moments—the glance between a dog and its owner, the wag of a tail after getting something right, the quiet confidence that grows with every training session.

Those are the moments that tell the real story.

Photograph taken at Hedingham Hounds dog training classes. With thanks to Hedingham Hounds for allowing me to capture these moments.