A photographer who understands dogs (and dog people)
I do this because dogs don’t stay long enough. Because the way they greet you, rest their head on your knee, or follow you from room to room becomes the rhythm of everyday life — until one day, you realize how much those small moments meant.
Preserving those stories matters to me. Not just as photographs, but as artwork you live with — pieces that remind you, every day, of the dog who shaped your life in ways you never expected.
I do this because dogs don’t stay long enough. Because the way they greet you, rest their head on your knee, or follow you from room to room becomes the rhythm of everyday life — until one day, you realize how much those small moments meant.
Preserving those stories matters to me. Not just as photographs, but as artwork you live with — pieces that remind you, every day, of the dog who shaped your life in ways you never expected.
I do this because dogs don’t stay long enough. Because the way they greet you, rest their head on your knee, or follow you from room to room becomes the rhythm of everyday life — until one day, you realize how much those small moments meant.
Preserving those stories matters to me. Not just as photographs, but as artwork you live with — pieces that remind you, every day, of the dog who shaped your life in ways you never expected.
I do this because dogs don’t stay long enough. Because the way they greet you, rest their head on your knee, or follow you from room to room becomes the rhythm of everyday life — until one day, you realize how much those small moments meant.
Preserving those stories matters to me. Not just as photographs, but as artwork you live with — pieces that remind you, every day, of the dog who shaped your life in ways you never expected.
I do this because dogs don’t stay long enough. Because the way they greet you, rest their head on your knee, or follow you from room to room becomes the rhythm of everyday life — until one day, you realize how much those small moments meant.
Preserving those stories matters to me. Not just as photographs, but as artwork you live with — pieces that remind you, every day, of the dog who shaped your life in ways you never expected.
I do this because dogs don’t stay long enough. Because the way they greet you, rest their head on your knee, or follow you from room to room becomes the rhythm of everyday life — until one day, you realize how much those small moments meant.
Preserving those stories matters to me. Not just as photographs, but as artwork you live with — pieces that remind you, every day, of the dog who shaped your life in ways you never expected.
