Pets

The pings coming from my phone had started to hurt my head. They felt overwhelming, like the whole world could see me hiding in my living room. I wanted to turn off my notifications, but I felt like I'd miss something big if I did. It's like my Twitter alerts held my future, and it would slip away if I didn't catch it fast enough. I'm not sure why this was stressing me out as much as it was. I should embrace the avalanche of social media while it was falling on me. I'd been posting my photography online for six years with little success. What was the goal, if not to go viral? Shouldn't I enjoy recognition for the work I'd put so much of my life into?

The thing is, with this photo, I hadn't even really been thinking when I took it. It had been a speedy, right-place, right-time kind of snapshot. I'd actually been walking home from a shoot I'd been planning for weeks in advance. Nara, my favorite model (mainly because she didn't make me pay her that much) and I had spent four hours in Central Park trying to get a perfect shot of her and the falling spring cherry blossom petals. An old lady had even yelled at me because I brought a fan to blow more petals off the trees. You do what you have to do for your art. 

I was on East 84th Street, another twenty blocks to go until I would reach the "one-bedroom," aka glorified studio I'd been calling home when I saw a white fluffy dog in a pink sweater. I didn't know dog breeds, nor would I ever really care to, but this one looked special. I guess I'd been seeing a lot of that guy on social media who gets millions of views for his pictures of dogs and his little interviews with their owners. Now, I'd been told I'm not exactly the best conversationalist, and I was not about to attempt doing an interview anytime soon, but maybe I thought I could hop on the pet portrait trend. Did it make me a sellout? Sure, my true passion being in editorial portraits. But I'd been getting tired of my part-time job at the florist for a while now. I wanted my art to finally be what paid my rent, and candid street photography was cool and in style; it was time I hopped on the trend. 

Anyway, I saw this dog walking towards me, and with my camera still around my neck from the shoot, I lifted it up and snapped a photo. The camera clicked just as the dog in the pink sweater began to say hello to a curly-haired black terrier strolling past. In my picture, two dogs, their noses touching, right before they were briskly pulled in different directions, probably never to interact again. I had caught the dogs sharing a greeting, a moment of intimacy, acknowledgment of the other's existence, while their humans remained anonymous people trying to get through a crowded street. The owners had trotted along, not even realizing their dogs had seen another of their kind and wanted to say hello. I'm not going to lie; it made me think about how New Yorkers rarely see one another as they walk, but the internet took pondering to a new level. Every inch of the photo had been hyper-analyzed by Twitter and Instagram, assigning meaning to it all. So many comments about how people don't truly see one another in this day and age. How we should take notes from our dogs who still have the decency to acknowledge one another. People were bringing mental health into the conversation, the adverse effects of the digital age, and the strange isolation of city living. The hashtag "Dogs aren't classist" had even started trending. I thought a lot of what people had to say was a stretch, but I hearted comments anyway. I couldn't complain because, hey, my name was out there, but people seemed to be using my photo to justify their own inner thoughts and beliefs. My photo filling in their narrative. 

I did see one tweet saying my photo was the Migrant Mother by Dorothea Lange of this generation. A snapshot carrying the symbolic sorrow of our era, just as Lange had captured with that woman and her children during the great depression. This one got me, even if I didn't think that could be true. Every photographer dreams of taking a shot that holds cultural significance like that. That everyone recognizes, and it reminds us why photographs are important. My head got a little inflated after that; someone had thought my work was important. Really important. 

But doubt always had a way of creeping in. Could this photo really be my personal Mona Lisa, or was it just another viral image that would get washed away by the waves of ever-moving social media feeds? Would people forget about me when the next cat can play the piano, or Beyonce wears an expensive outfit? Did I even want it to be my holy grail when I had hundreds of other images meticulously staged, down to the placement of my model's fingertips? 

I'd have to keep up the traction now too, I suddenly had eyes on my name but would they divert if my next post wasn't like this one. Would they be disappointed finding out my specialty was people, not dogs? Was my specialty not as good as this one-hit wonder? It could've been a fluke, a happy accident any idiot with a camera could stumble into. Did I really love and stand behind this work?

The notifications silenced for a moment as the phone began to ring, a number I didn't recognize with an area code I'd never seen. I answered. 

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Henry Miles Beaufort?" an accent said. 

"Yes. Can I ask who's calling?" I murmured. 

"My name is Virginia, and I'm with the Scottish Journal of Photography; we are very interested in your photograph titled Pets, it's gaining quite a lot of traction on the internet. We would like to include it in 2024's journal, potentially as a cover photo." 

"Wow" Was all I'd been able to muster as a response. Before I could think, she continued. 

"Of course, we'll have to set up a meeting with you to discuss compensation, among other things. Our director of photography is interested in your body of work, and he would like to chat. He's encouraging you to think about applying to some of our open positions. You're located in New York City, the United States, correct?" She said.  

"Yes, that's right." 

"I will give you my personal email, and please send back dates you are available to come meet with us, we will cover the costs of your airfare and accommodations of course. It really is exciting when we stumble across new talent."

My brain was practically too numb to reply, It felt as If I'd found myself awake in a foggy dream. Maybe the old lady in Central Park had knocked me out, and I'd wake up in a hospital bed later. "Okay, uhm, thank you, I will get back to you guys. I appreciate it. This is all very exciting."  

Two Dogs had become the start of my life; even if this all amounted to nothing, I'd been seen. The paths in front of me were now visible. A wire cage around my brain had been broken. It's funny the things that happen to you when you stop and see the beauty of what's in front of you. I'd spent too many years ignoring them, trying to make my way through a busy crowd.