Four&Sons

Author Archives: Martin Usborne

1. The rise and fall of the Spanish Galgo

   February 20, 2013 4:00 am Leave a Comment

   The Spanish hunting dog is a supremely elegant dog with a very ugly story. Many people know of Spain’s treatment of bulls but not many people know of its treatment of the ‘Galgo’ – the hunting greyhound. Spain’s economy lies on the verge of collapse. But their record on animal welfare may already be broken.

   Galgos were traditionally favoured by royalty but their star has waned. They were once considered so stately that to kill one was punished as a form of murder. Now they are used as tools by many ‘weekend’ hunters who then discard them at the end of the hunting season when they are no longer needed.

   Campaigners estimate that over 50,000 hunting dogs are abandoned or killed each year in Spain. The lucky ones are found by the sides of busy roads and painlessly put to sleep or, occasionally, adopted for a new life. The less lucky ones die subject to ritualistic abuse. If a Galgo (or a Podenco, which is a smaller form of hunting dog) is considered a bad performer and has shamed the ‘hunter’ it can be thrown alive down a well or have its legs broken so it can no longer make its way home or  – worst of all –  be made to play the ‘piano’. This involves the dog being tied by its neck from a tree so its back feet can just touch the ground and it’s paws scrabble on the floor. When the dogs give up dancing due to exhaustion they die. Can you hear the music?

   I am a photographer and writer. I am spending a year travelling the world to help or save as many animals as possible. It’s a ridiculous project with a serious point: I want to be more compassionate to animals and hopefully persuade other people to be the same. Last week I went out to Spain to help a charity called 112Carlotagalgos. Charlotte del Rio and her family rescue hunting dogs 24/7. These are some of their dogs’ amazing faces. At least those faces from dogs that were well enough to pose. I hope they show the broken and yet beautiful spirit of the Galgo and their smaller cousin, the Podenco. This visit is the start of a longer photography project I hope to make about these dogs. Please make others aware of this story.

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   All images by Martin Usborne
   For a limited period Martin is selling archival prints of any of these images for an extremely good price with all proceeds going to rescued hunting dogs. If you like art and helping, please click here. For more information about the Galgos in Spain, please click here.

   Martin is writing a blog (which include his images) about this year’s experience, Year to help, which he hopes to turn into a photographic book.

2. Finding a voice

   May 26, 2012 4:53 am Leave a Comment

   Dogs in cars is a series of forty images of dogs looking out of car windows — sounds a bit strange but the pictures have been seen in magazines and galleries all over the world. When I first had the idea five years ago I thought it was foolish. But the best ideas are the ones that stay with you and after many years of being lodged in my subconscious this one eventually had to come out barking.

   I now realise the pictures come from fairly deep fears I’ve had of being alone and without a voice (I found it almost impossible to express myself when I was a kid) and also from my early fascination with animals, dogs in particular, who also seemed vulnerable and somehow mute.

   I’ve suffered from depression on and and off for much of my life – and I’ll place a fair bet that these fears are at the heart of my struggles. But strangely enough I found peering into those cars and seeing the dogs inside somewhat beautiful — as if I was looking into the darkest places inside myself and seeing a face there. A silent face. But one that I recognised.

   These images are shot on location and the dog is placed in the car. That’s important to say. A lot of people think these are incidental images. This isn’t the case, partly because its very hard to find dogs stuck in cars whilst you are carrying lights around and partly because these images are not meant to be documentary, but something more dreamlike and cinematic. They evoke a feeling. Lots of lights are used and the mood is carefully controlled. I often get asked why dogs and not people in the car? Dogs are emotionally honest. They don’t hide who they are. The dog in the car is a metaphor for those raw and dare I say it, animal parts of ourselves that we keep locked away. But the images also say something about the way we control the animals in our lives.

   Some people find this project funny, and I have no problem with that. But I hope it is also poignant and ultimately hopeful. If you have experienced the anxiety and darkness that comes from feeling alone and can connect with these images then please pass on the word.

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   NB
   We were really excited to hear Martin Usborne was approached to publish the series as a glossy art book. However, as is now commonplace in the art world, Martin needs to raise money to part-fund publication through Kickstarter. Check the video and support Martin (and the dog world) with your pledge at Kickstarter here. Until Sunday 10th June.

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   Photography by Martin Usborne

3. Dog’s best friend?

   March 12, 2012 6:05 am Leave a Comment

   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