Andrew Raven
London Dog Photographer and Canine Portrait Artist, Pet Photographer of the Year 2025 at the British Photography Awards.
How this began
Viñales, Cuba - where it began
I didn’t grow up with dogs.
In fact, for most of my life, I knew very little about them.
That began to change while I was travelling through Cuba, where stray dogs seemed to find me almost everywhere I went.
I fed them whenever I could, sharing whatever food I had with me. Some approached because I had something to offer, while others simply appeared and chose to come along.
Even when my hands were empty, dogs I had only just met would follow me. Some joined me through the towns, while others came with me up mountains and became part of whatever adventure the day happened to bring.
I found it incredibly touching that they simply wanted to be with me.
One of those dogs was Cashew. She was so sweet and affectionate that, even now, it breaks my heart to think of her. I had known her for such a short time, yet when I returned home, I missed her far more than I expected.
I thought about the other dogs too, especially those who had simply chosen to walk beside me. Their trust, their affection and the way they stayed close, even when I had nothing to give them, remained with me long after I returned home.
Through those encounters, I began to see dogs differently: as individuals, each with their own history, sensitivities, pace and way of moving through the world.
When I returned to England, I wanted to understand them properly and find a meaningful way to give something back.
I began volunteering with rescue dogs, and that decision became the first step towards Raven Imagery. I will always be grateful to Cashew for changing the way I saw dogs, and ultimately, the direction of my life.
What followed
When I returned home, I began photographing dogs in my spare time.
At first, it was simply a way to stay connected to that feeling.
Over time, it grew into something more.
Not just photography, but a way of understanding dogs, and the relationships they share with the people who love them.
I found myself wanting to understand them more.
So I began learning properly.
Canine behaviour.
Handling.
Even canine first aid.
That approach has stayed with me ever since, and quietly shapes every photograph I take.
Recognition, quietly received
Over time, this work has been recognised in ways I’m incredibly grateful for, including being named Pet Photographer of the Year at the British Photography Awards.
It’s something I hold with appreciation, though the work itself has never really been about recognition. It’s always come back to the dogs, and the moments we’re able to keep.
What photography means to me
There's a particular kind of quiet that comes with being alone with a camera.
Early mornings in London, before the city finds its noise. A sunrise breaking over a familiar street. The light doing something unexpected.
No brief. No deadline. Just the question of what's there, if you look closely enough.
That's where a lot of this begins for me. Those solitary hours of wandering, noticing, trying a new angle on a wall I've walked past a hundred times. It's the closest thing I have to meditation.
The ones who started everything
I'm not sure I can fully explain what happens when one appears in front of me. Something shifts. A warmth that rises before I've even raised the camera. It's physical, almost. Like my chest can't quite contain it.
I've stopped trying to explain it. I just know that it's there, every time, without fail.
Joy, in its most uncomplicated form. The kind that asks nothing of you, and gives everything back.
When I photograph a dog, I'm trying to hold onto something. The way they move through the world. The way they look at the person they love most. Those small, fleeting moments that pass in a second and are gone.
Photography is how I keep those moments alive.
I would love to hear about the dog who is your whole world.
