By: Jules Mold
If you've ever had one, you'll know immediately what I mean.
A heart animal isn't just a beloved animal. It's the particular one. The one that found you at exactly the right moment. People sometimes lower their voice a little when they talk about their heart animal. As if loving an animal that much requires a small apology.
It doesn't. Not here, anyway.
It's not always the first animal, though sometimes it is. Sometimes it's the one who was there during the hardest chapter. The one who absorbed the grief or the uncertainty without needing an explanation. Sometimes it's the animal who is your family, full stop. Not alongside your family. Your family.
The heart animal holds a place that isn't about species. It's about love at a particular depth.
There are people for whom the animal in their life fills a space that would otherwise be empty, and fills it completely, and fills it in a way they wouldn't trade. Karen and Buddy were like this. The portrait on her kitchen wall, the coffee she still has with him that's not eccentric. That's love at a particular depth, finding a way to continue past the ending.
When I know I'm photographing someone's heart animal, something shifts. There's a stillness required. A particular quality of attention. Because what I'm being asked to capture isn't just a beautiful animal in good light. It's a relationship of genuine depth.
Those are the photographs worth making. Not because they're dramatic or technically accomplished, but because they're true.
The true photograph of a heart animal is the one that shows the relationship, not the animal alone.
If you're reading this and you have a heart animal right now currently lying at your feet or standing in the paddock you already understand everything I've written here.
Don't wait for the right moment. The right moment is now, in the ordinary time, when everything is fine and you're just together. That's the moment worth keeping.
With muddy boots and a full heart,
Jules x
Leave a comment
0 Comments