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America's most beloved dog portraitist, Amanda Jones, is officially calling it: 'the final stretch of a 25-year shooting run is now firmly in sight.'
She intends to complete just 300 more sittings—245 remain at the time of writing—before retiring the studio-on-wheels she has been effectively living inside for half of every month over the past two-plus years.
Raised by two professional photographers in Greenwich, CT, Jones grew up 'surrounded by art' and on 'a strict diet of Annie Leibovitz and Mark Seliger portraits.' She'd dreamed of becoming a portrait artist since childhood, and by age ten was already posing the family tabby, Oscar the Grouch, for her very first shoots.
After film-and-photography studies at Ithaca College, she cut her teeth on family portraits, weddings and corporate gigs before the lightning bolt struck: 'I realized, "I want to photograph dogs."' The spark came while shooting a friend's yellow Lab puppy simply for joy; the owner's overjoyed reaction flipped a switch. She launched the Amanda Jones' Dog of the Month Club mailing list, and with dog mania booming, she'd tapped a market hungry for pooch portraits.
Her work soon graced galleries from San Francisco to New York, and her appointment book stretched months deep. She logged two decades flying ten days out of every month—until this mother of one, about three years ago, decided the airports and hotels had to go. The fix: Jones and Chris, her partner and husband of 29 years, bought a 21-by-9-foot camper van that the pair and their three dogs—Dachshunds Benny (13) and Fig (1), plus six-year-old Chiweenie LadyBug—take on the road for up to a fortnight at a stretch. Covering as much as 900 miles per trip, Jones swings through 14 to 20 pre-booked shoots. The rig, cheekily dubbed 'The Dog Studio,' carries them and every bit of their gear.
It proved to be a blessing they never saw coming. When COVID throttled the world in early 2020, most studio shooters ground to a halt. Jones rode out six months with zero bookings—yet once things eased, the van 'let us shoot safely,' she says. 'No public restrooms, takeout meals, fully self-contained. Instead of renting a studio, we'd shoot in clients' garages. It worked out perfectly… The van has been transformative for work and life.'
Mostly, the pandemic's tremors didn't faze her. As a luxury-business owner, she's long accepted that fortunes ebb and flow with the economy—once running a 2,000-square-foot studio with a staff to match. 'When the economy retracted, so did our business,' she recalls.
Tired of airports and hotel lobbies? The answer turned out to be a 21-foot camper van—office, gallery and road trip rolled into one.
The highs have been stellar: features across the national press, from the New York Times to National Geographic, plus a hard-earned reputation as a go-to canine expert she says she's 'loving every minute of it.' On top of that sit six dog-photography books—Greyhounds Big and Small, Frenchie Kisses, Dachshunds Short and Long, A Breed Apart, Dog Years: Faithful Friends, Then and Now, and Unleashed.
More than two decades in, the allure hasn't dimmed. 'As subjects, dogs are as diverse as they are visually fascinating,' Jones says. 'Fluffy coats to smooth coats to wiry coats. The colour differences amaze me. Long tails, short tails. Tall ears, floppy ears.' Every dog—breed-ring champion or humble rescue—holds something unique worth saving, she insists. And the humans have been a treat too: she's snapped Anderson Cooper with his Welsh Springer spaniel Molly, Mary Tyler Moore with her rescues, and Danielle Steele with her Dachshund and Chihuahua in her San Francisco mansion, 'but it's always about the dogs, not the people.' The moments that cut deepest? Calls from past clients mourning a lost pet. 'They're so incredibly thankful,' she says, to have a permanent keepsake.
'People tell me I have the best job in the world—and I absolutely agree with them.'
Still, every golden era must close. With a decorated 25-year career and more than 2,700 unique clients behind her, Jones, now 54, just announced she will shoot her final 300 sessions—a span she estimates at three years—before shuttering the travelling-dog-photographer chapter of her life. Her vast archive of fine-art dog imagery, she says, will be put to work in fresh ways.
She'll miss the people and their pups, but not the road. While she and Chris will keep the van for hops between their homes in Williamstown, MA and Tucson, AZ, Jones plans to sink her new free time into 'photographing the things I love—my friends and the two extraordinary places we live.' And, naturally, dogs. Like most devoted owners, she's been remade by them. 'Dogs are now a central part of my life. I love all breeds, sizes and shapes… I can usually produce a dog treat from any article of clothing in my coat closet.'
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