Four

Dog’s best friend?

BY Martin Usborne, March 12, 2012

I’m a photographer with a strange fascination for dogs (I own one, I photograph them, I can even howl) so it was natural I should be drawn to Crufts, the world’s biggest dog show which has opened it’s doors the paws once more this year.

Crufts is entirely different from how I expected – or hoped – it to be. I first went with a long lens and a sense of moral focus expecting to capture owners that looked like their pets and who championed inbred pets with painful haircuts. A few years ago Crufts was under intense scrutiny when  a secret TV documentary made a show call Pedigrees Exposed that argued show-dog breeding was essentially unhealthy and cruel. But while I did the see the odd dog overburdened with pink ribbons and the occasional extreme breed with endless folds in its skin (and that made me uncomfortable), the overriding impression was positive. And I couldn’t be too critical anyway – I have a miniature schnauzer pedigree, even if he is exceedlingly scruffy.

Crufts was and is generally pleasant. The dog owners are friendly, dare I say it normal even. The vast halls, despite being full of thousands of different breeds are strangely quiet and more suprising than this – almost turd-free. The merchandising stalls, which sit around the perimeter of the space and sell marginally tasteless doggy-tat (buy two bottles of ‘Urine-off’ and receive a free 100% fish-based dog chew) are harmless enough. And amongst this the dogs themselves seem to be willing,  as if they too have read the convention showguide and know they must wait their turn to appear on the green carpet. The overall impression is of a prosaic middle-England gathering of weekend enthusiasts.

In a way, Crufts is not about dogs at all, it’s about us, the humans. To see Sue from Southend prancing around the green carpet with her shapely Shih Tzu is an odd thing. To see the passion in shaping a poodle’s paunches is bizarre. For what is on show here is our obsession with classification, managing and controlling. For centuries now we have selected and bred and trimmed and perfected these dogs whilst all along the animals themselves seem vaguely disinterested. Under the layers of trimmed and blow-dried hair I bet that Sheepdog just wants to chew a stick. At Crufts they call him Prancing Archibald goes Forth but if you ask what they call him at home its Keith.

Needless to say the documentary photographer in me was vaguely disappointed. But then it occured to me: Crufts is not about dogs at all, it’s about us, the humans. And that is fascinating to see. To watch Sue from Southend prancing around the green carpet with her shapely Shih Tzu is an odd thing. To see the passion for perfection in shaping a poodle’s paunches is bizarre. For what is on show here is our obsession with classification, managing and controlling. For centuries now we have selected and bred and trimmed and perfected these dogs whilst all along the animals themselves are but baffled bystanders. Under the layers of trimmed and blow-dried hair I bet that Sheepdog just wants to chew a stick. At Crufts they call him Champion de Pegasus a la Creme but if you ask what they call him at home it’s Keith.

There is little doubt that this pursuit of perfection has led to various inbred conditions and ailments particular to pedigrees. But I didn’t sense any overt maliciousness here. The owners remind me of Sunday gardeners who trim their hedges into the shape of leaping dolphins and then go inside to watch Antiques Roadshow on TV, and like the gardener they love their creations. If the dogs suffer unnecessarily then that is very sad and wrong. But on the surface at least I saw care — even if was professed through some deeply strange haircuts.

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Photography by Martin Usborne
To see more of Martin Usborne’s work, click here

Tags Collection, Community, Crufts, Dog Show, Grooming, Photography, Portrait, Reportage, Shows, Society