Today we’d like to introduce you to Liz Dranow.
Hi Liz, so excited to have you on the platform. So before we get into questions about your work life, maybe you can bring our readers up to speed on your story and how you got to where you are today.
When I was a kid, I grew up in Saudi Arabia, and before we left the country, I bicycled around the community we lived in, taking photos with my little Kodak Instamatic so I would remember the place I grew up. I still have some of those photographs (it was a film camera, so everything got printed), and looking at them I can still remember the heat and humidity and grit from the sand mingled with my sweat.
When my husband and I got Fiona, a Goldendoodle, who was the first puppy I had as an adult, I rediscovered my love of photography and began taking general photography classes as well as pet-specific classes as I wanted to learn all I could about the magic of digital photography. Documenting the lives of my own dogs from puppies to adulthood, and into their senior years taught me the value of having photographs of my dogs so I could easily revisit their younger years, while also not losing the bond that I have shared with all my dogs when I finally have to say goodbye to them. Knowing how valuable those photographs are to me, I felt that other pet owners would want photographs of their dogs, as well, and after training and honing my craft, about 9 years ago I became a professional pet photographer.
At that same time, I began volunteering for Salt Lake County Animal Services, photographing adoptable pets. I have been volunteering there for almost 9 years, and it is an important part of my life. I love hearing that a dog got adopted because someone saw one of my photos on Facebook or Instagram and had to go meet the dog. It is always a highlight of my week when that happens. My photography business, Liz Dranow Photography, supports my work at the animal shelter, and a portion of every session booked with me goes directly to the equipment and supplies I use at the animal shelter photo sessions.
In 2020, at the beginning of the pandemic, I lost Fiona, my heart dog, to GI lymphoma. While I knew I would lose her, the one silver lining of the pandemic for me was that I was able to spend every minute of the last month of her life with her. However, like a lot of people, the pandemic was a hard time for me; I have a ‘day job’ at the University of Utah, so I was financially secure, but I had lost the fire for photography. I still photographed for clients, and I photographed my own dogs, but I had lost the creative part of me that looked for unique and different ways to do what I had been doing.
In 2022, the animal shelter began allowing volunteers to come in regularly, and they started a program called “Hounds Around Town” where volunteers take dogs in the shelter out around town for adventures – hikes, baths, puppaccinos, shopping, jogging, all sorts of things. Because the shelter (again, like many places) was understaffed and was starting to see a lot of dogs come in the doors, we were having a hard time scheduling our twice-monthly two-hour photo sessions where we would photograph 20-25 dogs in a session. At this same time, I stumbled on a Google map that showed a lot of the murals in Salt Lake City: https://www.google.com/maps/d/viewer?mid=1-j0fYFsX9QCPxAPy4KoNrg7ZRDGsyNGw&ll=40.75429743006494%2C-111.86778183349064&z=13 I talked with another volunteer who was involved in the Hounds Around Town program and we decided to start taking dogs to some of the murals where I would photograph them before they went on the rest of their adventure. With the first dog, the first time we did it, I re-found my creative drive. I had found a project that helped get me out in the world again, let me help shelter dogs find new homes, and intrigued me and challenged me in a way I hadn’t felt since before the pandemic.
In late June of 2022, I adopted a Goldendoodle from Salt Lake County Animal Services. Before the pandemic, it was rare to see Doodles in the shelter, and my previous dogs had come from a responsible breed. However, as things opened up, the shelters and rescues in Salt Lake (and across the country) had become flooded with dogs (and cats, rabbits, and other pets) of every breed, age, and sex. So, I knew when it was time for our next dog (after the adoption in July we went back to having 3 Goldendoodles), we would get her from a shelter. It took less than 6 weeks of actively looking for a young, female Goldendoodle to find Bellatrix, the dog we adopted.
Ultimately from the Hounds Around Town program and my adopting a Goldendoodle puppy from the shelter, the idea for the Shelter Dogs and Street Art project was born. The goal of this project is to highlight the variety of dogs that are available for adoption – with a little bit of effort, it is possible to find just about any dog you might be looking for at a shelter or rescue – while also showing off the amazing variety of street art in the Salt Lake area.
I still volunteer with Salt Lake County doing the regular photo sessions where we can photograph as many dogs as possible, but I also go with other volunteers on Hounds Around Town to get photos of the dogs and the murals. I also have begun a model call for pets adopted from shelters and rescues to continue the Shelter Dogs and Street Art project, to draw awareness to all the adoptable animals available, and to keep exploring the evolving street art in the Salt Lake Area.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
The biggest struggle for me was the combination of losing my senior dog, Fiona, to GI lymphoma around the beginning of the pandemic (April 2020), and not having my usual ‘outlet’ of photographing adoptable dogs for the animal shelter. I photographed my own dogs, and I photographed clients when we could meet outside, but the combination of losing my first inspiration, and not being able to volunteer at the animal shelter, along with the general isolation I think most of us experienced during the pandemic was really hard for me.
I lost my creative spark for almost 2 years, but I am so very fortunate to have found a project that excites me, challenges me, and gives me the opportunity to work with shelter dogs and adopted dogs while also exploring parts of Salt Lake City that I had never seen before. I have met amazing people through the animal shelter (staff and volunteers) and I am meeting more amazing people – and dogs! The Shelter Dogs and Street Art project, and continues to fuel my rediscovered passion for photography.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
I truly believe that photographs are like little time machines that connect our future selves with the moments we are living now. I am a photographer because I believe that these moments we’re living, and this time we’re living in, should be studied and savored; and I believe that the past should not exist only in the mind. Photography gives us a tangible way to return to the aromas, textures, and feelings of this exact moment.
I photograph pets and their people, because the bond we share with our pets is powerful, and it’s precious, but it doesn’t ever last as long as it should.
I am a proud volunteer with Salt Lake County Animal Services, and a lot of people find me through the work I do for the animal shelter. I love my day job, but the time I spend volunteering for the animal shelter gives me a sense of doing something tangible that is meaningful. My dogs have changed my life in ways that I would have never imagined, and if I can be part of a team that helps people find dogs that will change their lives, too, that is powerful stuff.
As a pet photographer, I think what sets me apart is that I like to create experiences that feel comfortable, fun, and real for people and their pets. There are a lot of amazing pet photographers in this area, and we all have a different approach; for me, each photo session is unique as I like to create the opportunity where can capture the real, naturally shared moments and expressions that make up the shared lifetime of caring coexistence and true love and that varies for each person and their pet. By getting to know the pets and their parents before the shoot, I can create a setting that is tailored to each individual where everyone is comfortable and can express their unique relationship.
The Shelter Dogs and Street Art is a project that is just starting out, but of which I am immensely proud. As an introvert, and someone who can get quite comfortable staying at home, this project has allowed me (and pushed me) to get out of my comfort zone, physically and mentally. I go to parts of Salt Lake that I don’t usually go to, and I am actively reaching out to parents of adopted dogs, and I’m reaching out to the artists who create these amazing murals with this “idea” while wondering if the people I’m reaching out to are going to think I’m just a nutty dog lady. (I have yet to have someone tell me I’m nuts, but there’s always part of me that wonders! *grin*). This project allows me to experience amazing murals and street art while transforming it by photographing adopted and adoptable dogs, and then sharing these photographs with the world. I’m really excited about this project.
Can you talk to us about how you think about risk?
This is a really interesting question, and I’ve spent some time thinking about how to answer it. My gut response would be that I’m not really a risk taker, but I think you have to get out of your comfort zone to really experience all that life has to offer. Then, as I got up to stretch my legs, I mentioned this question to my husband, and he said. “Yes, you are a risk-taker; you raced downhill.” To which I replied, “Yeah, but it didn’t end well.”
So, to back it up a bit, I met my husband ski racing, and we were involved in the Intermountain Masters Racers program for ski racing. (And to back up a bit farther than that, I grew up in Saudi Arabia, and didn’t learn to ski until I was an adult when I moved to Utah. I ended up teaching skiing for several years, got my Ph.D. in Parks, Recreation, and Tourism from the U., and eventually started recreational ski racing.) While not a particularly gifted ski racer (I think that because I learned to ski as an adult there is always that hint of fear that something really bad could happen), I enjoyed it. I particularly like racing and training Super G at Park City Mountain Resort because you could carry a lot of speed (we were on closed runs) but you weren’t doing anything really wild and crazy like in do in Downhill. And, one year, we decided to go to a Masters Downhill training and race week at Soldier Mountain in Idaho. The skiing fast with the skis on the ground was great, but you have to have jumps downhill. On my first attempt at the jump, the tips of my skis got pushed up in the air and I flew a fair distance before a very hard landing. I thought I had sprained my wrist (so did the ski patrol), so I went up and did it again. My husband gave me the most helpful advice “don’t think, just do it”. And I did.
And I landed the jump. I trained for the rest of the day, hitting speeds in the 50-60mph range. By the end of the day, I couldn’t hold my pole in my wrist, and when I took off the wrapping the ski patrol had put on, the end of the radius bone in my arm was offset by about a half inch at my wrist. One of the other master’s racers was an ER doctor and declared that my wrist “definitely didn’t look right”. So, I went to an emergency room where they x-rayed my wrist and put a cast on it, and when we got back to Salt Lake City, the wrist doctor I saw had me scheduled for surgery the next day. After much rehab and work, I had a full range of motion in my wrist, and raced another season, including Super G, but never did another downhill.
One of the biggest “risks” (more like a leap into the unknown) I ever took was moving to Utah. My Dad’s job brought us all to Saudi Arabia when I was 4 years old (a leap into the unknown that changed my family’s life in a very good way), and I ended up going to a boarding school in Pennsylvania for high school because my parents were still overseas. Both my brothers had gone to the same school, so there was no risk there. But when it came down to college, at the time, I wanted to work for the Foreign Service, and I had applied to Georgetown University, and the University of Utah (my Mom and I had visited the U. because neither of us had been to Utah, TWA – the airline my Dad worked for – flew there, and they had a good Middle East Studies program). I got accepted to Georgetown, and the U., but the U. offered me a four-year full-tuition scholarship. At the time (~1990) Georgetown’s tuition was ~$25k, not including room and board, and the U was free. I didn’t know anyone in Utah, had no family connections to the state, but the lure of free tuition, and a faculty member who had lived in Utah, and knew me well enough to advise me that because I liked the outdoors, I’d probably really like Utah, I decided to go to the U. (Thank you, BTW, to the President’s Club donors who made that leap into the unknown possible!)
I (obviously) didn’t go work for the Foreign Service (although I have a BA in Arabic), and moving to Utah changed my life. I can’t really picture what my life would have been like had I gone to Georgetown, but knowing the life I have lived so far, that leap into the unknown was an amazing opportunity. I got my BA, and my Ph.D. at the U., I learned to ski, taught skiing, was a ski racer, was a cyclist (and wasn’t great, but loved racing the time trials at Salt aire), raced autocross, met my husband, had dogs, rediscovered photography, found fulfillment in my day job and my part-time job and volunteering.
So, am I a risk taker? Most of the time, I would say “not really.” I didn’t race another downhill after my wrist (35 years old at the time, I realized that I didn’t bounce very well, and surgery wasn’t fun), but I flew into the air twice that day, and it was exhilarating. Just because I didn’t do it again after that day didn’t take away from how proud I was of myself to get back on the skis (again, I didn’t know the extent of my wrist injury) and try the jump again, and land it. I moved to Utah in the Fall of 1989 knowing no one, and not knowing what to expect, and it was one of the best decisions of my life. I don’t take leaps into the unknown that often, but when I do, I learn so much about myself, and it usually ends up changing my life.
Mostly now my risk-taking is more in the form of getting out of my comfort zone by reaching out to people on my Shelter Dogs and Street Art project or reaching out to local businesses with the hopes of generating some commercial business for my pet photography business. But even those small leaps (with the biggest risk being that someone will say no) that push me out of my comfort zone are good – I really don’t think you can truly experience life unless you get out of your comfort zone and see what the possibilities are. So, maybe I am a risk taker, even if I’m not throwing myself down a ski slope at 55mph.
Pricing:
- Custom photography sessions – $300 with a $300 credit toward purchases
- Commercial photography for small/medium businesses – request quote
Contact Info:
- Website: http://lizdranowphotography.com
- Instagram: @lizdranowphotography and @shelterdogsandstreetart
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LizDranowPhotography and https://www.facebook.com/Shelterdogsandstreetart/
Image Credits
Liz Dranow Photography
