The Great British Heatwave (and Other Dog Show Catastrophes) at Plympton Castle Green
For the uninitiated, the Plympton Lamb Feast is a cornerstone of the Plympton St Maurice Midsummer Festival. It is an entirely free, delightfully wholesome, family-friendly community gathering staged upon the historic Castle Green, a spot where, in 1224, the Sheriff of Devon thoroughly demolished the original castle because the local lord was being historically difficult. Walking up to it today, it is the sort of quintessentially English village scene that looks so impossibly idyllic you half expect a detective from Midsomer Murders to step out from behind a burger van to investigate a suspicious death by a poisoned scone.
The Currency of Joy: A Plymouth Pet Portrait Adventure
Daisy arrived for her pet portrait session and immediately undertook the obligatory grand inspection. In the world of studio dog photography, this involves a thorough, high velocity nose vacuuming of the floorboards to sniff out the historical news of every creature that had preceded her.
Once the administrative sniffing was concluded, we got down to business.
For Daisy, "business" exists in a very specific economic framework. Posing for a professional dog photographer is not done for the love of the arts; it comes at a strict, transactional cost. The currency of the realm was the Treat.
The Fine Art of Herding Furry Tornadoes: A Masterclass in Studio Chaos
To say these two have energy is to say the sun is a bit warm. They possessed the kind of vibrating, molecular restlessness usually reserved for a five year old child who has been systematically stuffed full of fizzy pop and Smarties. It was a whirlwind of a dog photography session and frankly, I loved every chaotic second of it.
Dog Photography at Radford Park | MJC Photography Plymouth
It is a scene that has become distressingly familiar to the locals: a middle-aged man, increasingly red of face, prostrate in the mud with a camera clutched in his hand, emitting a series of desperate barks and whistles. All of this in the vain hope of arresting the subject’s attention for the fraction of a second required for a "formal" pose.
It is a specialized form of madness, I grant you. But oh, the elation when that frantic, muddy chaos aligns for one fleeting moment and becomes, quite simply, "The Shot."
A Morning Dip with River, the Aquatic Canine
Then, inevitably, it was time for the main event. My own peculiar affliction, you see, dictates that I must, must, peer through the viewfinder. The fancy LCD screen, with all its modern conveniences, might as well be a blank piece of slate for all the use I get out of it. This rather antiquated foible means that, to achieve the desired aquatic masterpiece, I frequently find myself prostrate in the shallows, camera clutched precariously, as a jubilant, water-obsessed Black Lab, propelled by some unseen canine jet engine, hurtles directly towards me. The resulting geyser of spray and general aquatic chaos is, frankly, breathtaking.
Dartmoor Delights & Canine Capers: A Photographer's Tale of Sunshine, Showers, and Spirited Pups
Now, Pip, being of a certain vintage, took it all in her stride. She posed on demand, radiated a serene contentment, and generally seemed to be having the time of her life. And I, clearly lulled into a dangerous sense of complacency by this relaxed session, was about to be rudely awakened. Because Pip, as it turned out, had a considerably younger sister, a feisty little number by the name of Purdy. And Purdy, it quickly became apparent, was rather less enamoured with the prospect of having a camera lens pointed squarely in her direction. An objection, I might add, that she voiced with all the enthusiastic indignation of a startled badger whenever I dared lift the camera. But necessity, as they say, is the mother of invention
Capturing the Uncapturable: Photographing a Hyperactive Dog (and My Chocolate-Fueled Efforts)
The truth, as it often is, was rather humbling. No matter how many chocolate eggs I might ingest in the name of energy, I could no more keep up with Cooper than I could suddenly understand the offside rule. He was a force of nature, a four-legged testament to the sheer, unadulterated joy of simply being and moving. And I, well, I was mostly just muddy. And slightly sticky. But you know, in a rather satisfying sort of way.
Grey Skies, Barking Trolls, and Postbridge: A Photographic Mishap
Well, the weather. Honestly. You'd think the Sky People, or whatever they call themselves up there, had nothing better to do than mess with the likes of us, the lens-toting, sunset-chasing, landscape-obsessed mortals. A glorious, postcard-perfect day, all sapphire skies and fluffy little clouds, just begging to be captured. And then, poof, grey. Just… grey. Like someone had dropped a damp blanket over everything. So, plan B. Naturally.