Ariel Marken Jack: You specialize in outdoor portrait photography of people and animals. I’m curious about how working primarily with natural light inspires your creative process.
Caroline Hale: As a photographer, I know that lighting can make or break an image. For me, it’s been one of the trickiest skills to master—and one I’m still working on. The thing about natural light is that it’s never quite the same. You have to adapt to it in the moment, which keeps things both challenging and exciting. The more I photograph, the more I’ve become familiar with the sun’s dance across the sky and the shadows it leaves in its wake. It’s a grounding practice and unexpectedly meditative.
I’m not only focused on the shadows; I’m equally fascinated by the colours natural light brings. From the pinks and oranges of a sunset to the cool blues and greens on an overcast day, each scenario presents its own obstacles—and opportunities for beauty. A few years ago, I graduated as a hairstylist, and one of my favourite parts of that journey was studying the colour wheel. I still remember my teacher explaining how colouring hair differs from, say, painting a wall, as you have to consider the underlying colour and how it will interact with the new shade. There’s so much nuance in colour theory, and I have a ton of respect for hairstylists who navigate these complexities while also trying to manage clients’ expectations. While I didn’t end up pursuing hairstyling as a career, I still use a lot of the same learnings during a shoot and in post processing.
I love working with natural light because no two photos are ever the same, and there’s something I find quite exciting about that. I can shoot at the same location multiple times, but the results are always completely different depending on the weather and what the clouds decide to do that day. Of course, natural light can be frustrating—it’s like having an unpredictable co-star. Some days, you might catch me cursing at the sky, but later that night, when I upload the photos to my computer, I often find myself smiling and saying, ‘Well, that turned out pretty spectacular after all.’
AMJ: I’m also curious about the balance of pleasures and problems that I imagine comes with the territory of photographing animals. Do you find that the higher degree of artistic flexibility required by having a lower degree of control over posing your subjects often results in particularly interesting or surprising images?
CH: I like to warn people with Type A personalities to avoid pet photography at all costs— haha! It’s been a journey of learning to go with the flow. That said, since my passion has really always been pet photography, I don’t have much to compare it to. Having worked with animals most of my life, I’ve developed a ton of patience and have learned not to sweat the small stuff. If a dog doesn’t want to hold a particular pose, we just move on to the next idea. It’s apparent when an animal isn’t enjoying themselves, and that feeling inevitably comes through in the photos—which is definitely not what you want. My goal is to capture them having fun, whether that’s frolicking through a forest or sitting on a bench soaking in the view.
I can sometimes sense when clients feel frustrated or embarrassed if their pet isn’t following commands during a session. While we might repeat a shot a few times if the pet seems up for it, I always reassure the owners that it’s not a big deal if their pet doesn’t sit or lie down perfectly. Honestly, I’m usually far less concerned about it than they are! More often than not, I find myself focusing on helping the owners relax rather than trying to keep the dog in line. When everyone’s having fun, the best moments tend to happen naturally.
I typically head into a session with a few ideas, but they often shift depending on the dog’s mood and personality. When you’re just starting out in this field, that lack of control can be frustrating. But over time, you realize some of the best shots are the ones you didn’t plan—the ones that truly highlight a pet’s personality or the bond they share with their human. My favourite photos are the ones where the dog’s tongue is hanging playfully out the side of its mouth because they’ve just spent the last thirty minutes running up and down the beach, having the time of their life. There’s no script for joy like that.
AMJ: You offer special portrait sessions for people who want to memorialize the tail end of their time shared with pets who are elderly or terminally ill. This strikes me as work that would involve a variety of challenges; can you talk about how you handle both the logistical and the emotional aspects of these sessions?
CH: The hardest part about loving an animal is knowing that one day, you’ll have to say goodbye. It’s a pain like no other and a reflection of just how strong and special your bond was. I decided to offer these sessions because the time to let go often comes sooner than we expect, and photographs can act as a reminder of the joy, connection, and love you shared. These sessions aren’t meant to feel heavy or somber. Instead, they’re a celebration—a chance to simply be with your best friend, doing all the things you loved most.
I try to keep my schedule flexible for these sessions, understanding how quickly circumstances can change. Whether it’s a day when your pet feels particularly good or a week when they seem more like themselves, I want to be ready. Location is also something to consider—some choose a favourite park, while others prefer the comfort and ease of home, especially if mobility is a challenge. Above all, my goal is to honour your pet during these sessions, creating space for them to simply be, exactly as they are.
During my time working in a clinic, I witnessed countless heartbreaks. I was often the one asking families to sign the euthanasia paperwork, their hands barely stable enough to hold the pen. Those moments used to feel emotionally overwhelming until I changed how I viewed them. I began to see the tears not just as grief, but as a profound outpouring of love. I’d think, ‘Wow, that dog was so lucky to have been loved this much.’ That shift in perspective also shapes how I approach these sessions.
While nothing can truly take away the pain of losing a member of your family, I hope that my photographs can serve as a tangible reminder—a way to hold onto the incredible moments you shared with your best friend.
AMJ: You’ve recently taken up painting. As someone who already had the skills to create beautiful images with your camera, do you find that picking up a paintbrush changes what you notice when you look at the world around you?
CH: Painting is still a very recent hobby for me—something I picked up to keep my creative brain active throughout the slower winter months. With less demand for photos during this time, I wanted a way to stay engaged. I get antsy when I’m not flexing my creative muscles. I’ve also always been envious of people who can draw and paint—skills that I’ve never quite mastered myself. I love dabbling in different art forms, even if it’s just for a project or two.
Painting is different in that with a paintbrush, you can’t rush the process the way you can with a camera. It’s teaching me even more about patience. I can’t simply adjust a setting or wait for the perfect moment; instead, I have to build the final piece layer by layer. This challenge has helped me embrace the process, something I can also apply to photography—where patience and a slower pace are often key to capturing the right moments.
In painting, the focus shifts from light to how colours blend and interact with each other. Once again, the colour wheel comes into play here. In photography, I’ve trained my eye to notice how light shapes everything around me, but painting has made me more aware of the subtle ways colours shift and work together, often in ways I hadn’t noticed before. Despite these differences, both mediums share a similar challenge—capturing the relationship between light and colour to bring the image to life.
AMJ: You’re also a writer, and you describe your photography practice as “visual storytelling.” I’d love to know how your interest in narrative affects the visual elements you choose to focus on during a portrait or painting session.
CH: I often see life as a series of chapters, and our pets are such a huge part of those chapters. That’s why I refer to myself as a visual storyteller—because I want my photos to act like the paragraphs that make up a story. When I deliver a gallery, my hope is to bring my clients right back to that exact moment—the feel of the leash between their fingers, their dog’s salty wet fur pressed against their leg as they look up, asking, ‘What’s next?’, always full of joy and wonder.
Setting also plays such an important role in my work. I choose to shoot outdoors because I want the natural beauty of Nova Scotia to be a part of every image. Whether it’s the vibrant colours of autumn leaves or a familiar beach you visit every day, the landscape becomes a key piece of the story. Having lived in some beautiful parts of Canada, I love looking at photos that take me right back to those moments—the hidden trail that led to a secret lake or the rope swing that hung from a branch over the ocean. It’s more than just pressing the shutter; it’s about capturing the essence of a moment, with everything in it, from the subject to the surroundings.
Details are where the story truly comes to life. I love capturing close-up shots of things like a pet’s name tag or their eyes—these small touches can evoke so much emotion and connection. And small actions like a kiss on a dog’s cheek or a scratch behind the ear are just as important. These are the moments that shape the narrative and remind us that the best connections often need no words. AMJ: Where can Barnacle readers look to admire your work or to book a photography session with you?
CH: You can find my portfolio or book a photo session through my website at carolinehalephotography.com. I’m also active on Instagram (@carolinehale.photography) and Facebook (Caroline Hale Photography), where I share recent sessions and upcoming events! If you’re in the mood for some seriously cute kittens, you can find my work in SHAID’s 2024 and 2025 calendars, Firefighters for Felines. It was such a joy to capture those heartwarming moments and support such a great cause.
