Why I Shoot on Paper

There's a reason this studio is called Dogs on Paper — and it goes deeper than a name.

I learned to photograph dogs on seamless paper backdrop early in my career, under the guidance of renowned dog photographer Amanda Jones in San Francisco in 2000. It's where I found my footing as an artist, and it's where I've stayed — not out of habit, but out of conviction.

Paper is pure. It's a blank surface that knows its place — it's there to serve the subject, never compete with it. No texture competing for attention, no location pulling focus, no backdrop with its own personality. Just the subject, the light, and whatever that particular dog brought into the studio that day.

I think of paper the way a painter thinks of a fresh canvas — it's the beginning of something. It creates stillness. And in that stillness, something true about a dog tends to reveal itself.

Dogs are expressive, specific, and fleeting. The way your dog holds their head, the depth behind their eyes, the particular way they carry themselves — that's what I'm after. Paper gives me the cleanest possible path to capturing it. Whether I'm working on classic white, light gray, or pale blue, the backdrop steps back. The dog steps forward.

It's also where I feel most like myself as a photographer. Present, focused, unhurried. Just me, your dog, and the paper.

That's why it's in the name. Dogs on Paper was chosen by my sons, still little boys at the time, from a list of options I gave them while rebranding my studio. Pure and simple — just like the paper itself.

— Ann Burgermyer, Dogs on Paper