twentieth centuries. When possible, I indicate dates or decade frames, but these attributions are necessarily tentative because very few of the pictures are actually dated. The easiest photographs to date are the real photo postcards, because the stamp box and lettering, along with postmarks, can place the card within several years of its origin. There are also guidelines for dating cabinet cards and cartes de visite based upon the thickness, cut, and embellishment of the cards, although these standards are difficult to use without expert guidance. In most cases I have been content with identifying a decade, unless there is something particular to an image that narrows the time frame. Sometimes clothing can be helpful, and I have used several sources to better identify the time frame and the content of the image itself, relying largely upon Joan Severa’s beautiful presentation in Dressed for the Photographer: Ordinary Americans and Fashion, 1840–1900, supplemented by Olian, Blum, Dalrymple, and Harris.3
For dating snapshots, I used my dad’s collection of family photographs. By comparing sizes and formats with dated images in his collection, I devised a rough template for approximating dates. For those pictures, not only was clothing helpful, but the appearance of the family automobile also indicated a rough time frame. In addition to the obvious vagaries and uncertainties of dating, most of my photographs come from persons and contexts unknown, so any conclusion about a single photograph must be taken as suggestion, not fact. Having said that, however, the operating perspective of the book assumes that while no single photograph can have meaning by itself, these photographs do have meaning as a collection. They were gathered randomly at first. I simply bought pictures that appealed to me visually. I took pleasure in looking at them, and in contacting local historical societies in an effort to identify persons or dates. When I discuss the several image formats (chapter 1), I offer some average measurements for each format that include the backing and framing. But in the text, I measured only the image itself and did not include the borders around it or the backing material. The size of each image is given in centimeters for greater precision. What I discovered in the process of looking at the pictures was the cultural force of a shared visual rhetoric. I added to this sense of visual coherence my own childhood reading of dog stories, which, I realized, could illustrate what I was seeing in the photographs. Finally, I consulted a number of authorities in cultural studies, with special attention to scholars working across a variety of disciplines in animal studies. How and why we represent animals—in this instance, dogs—becomes more than a pleasant historical moment when viewed as part of larger cultural patterns. I submit that we can better understand the broad fabric of cultural attitudes and values by looking at the artifacts that have been left behind, and by assembling them in ways that restore at least the public portion of the cultural story that gave them life. I also assert that the role of visual and material culture in shaping and sustaining cultural values and prejudices has yet to be fully reckoned or integrated, so much have we been a people absorbed by words and narrative. Women and African Americans in particular have long been cognizant of the power of visual images to free or constrain a person, and the struggle of identity and self-determination for many people on American soil has been a matter of recognizing that “the field of representation (how we see ourselves, how other see us) is a site of ongoing struggle.”4 While not every discussion in the pages that follow is about cultural struggle, I was astonished by how a topic that had seemed so simple and transparent—pictures of people with their dogs—proved to be far more enigmatic than I could have imagined. Perhaps that enigma can be traced directly to the dog itself, which, in the historical record, is treated with great tenderness and love but also with disgust and cruelty. Because of the dog’s uncanny ability to adapt to our cultural expectations and reflect our emotions, the canine is a mirror of ourselves and our society, and so we have treated and used the dog in ways that reinforce this atavistic ambivalence. Or, to use another metaphor, our relationship with dogs is steeped in all the contradictory and multiple purposes of any great passion, bringing us great comfort and love or great satisfaction in our ability to dominate and hurt. Both elements—comfort and love, domination and hurt—tell the story of our romance with dogs, and this collection of photographs brings us closer to that story in ways that words alone cannot.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are so bombarded with communication that it’s difficult to find time to read or consider pictures at length, much less reflect upon what we’ve encountered. So it took me a long time to write this book, because thinking doesn’t always happen on a convenient schedule. I have been fortunate to have colleagues and friends who encouraged me to protect that reflective space and take my time. My writing group—Melissa Aleman, Erica Bleeg, Dolores Flamiano, and Laurie Kutchins, all gifted writers—were wise, kind, and critical in just the right proportions, and I am grateful for their support and encouragement. Julie Caran was a sounding board for early material, and her sensitivity to visual and verbal nuance encouraged me to improve my own encounter with the pictures. Kristi McDonnell recovered one chapter for me, and rescued several others from my formatting. She also improved a scruffy image of Buster Brown whose rehabilitation was beyond my skills. Kristi tactfully offered cheerful support and know-how when she heard muttering coming from my office, a considerable contribution to the book as far as I was concerned.
Many people volunteered their own pictures, bought me pictures, or looked at my pictures with me, and every single such instance became part of my education for this book. For keeping me company with pictures, I thank Mary Handley, Kathleen Newcomb, David Dillard, Alton Mosley, Susan Ghiacuic, Laney Lindor, Don and Mart Morey, Heidi Collar, Vince Drumheller, Tom Barr, Gina Niemi, Kristi Shackelford, Melissa Aleman, Rachel Bowman, Maureen Shanahan, Scott Jost, Mark Tueting, and Paul Bogard. In particular, I want to note my sister’s support for this project. Laney Lindor started looking for pictures for me, and the first one she sent me contained a dog statue, not a living dog. I had been ignoring these, but when I held the picture in my hands, the import of the fake dog jumped out at me, because the dog in this particular picture was so small (see fig. 34). Because of Laney, chapter 2 took far better shape than it would have otherwise, and I am so fortunate in the dog love and sister love Laney has shared with me.
Colleagues near and far lent their considerable knowledge to my project. I laughed in surprise when Kevin Borg commented enthusiastically on the automobiles in the pictures, which I had barely noticed. He kindly set me straight, and applied his car expertise to several dating questions. Tom Barr was disappointed that I didn’t want to learn how to shoot a gun, but he generously took time to identify weapons in the hunting pictures. Jo-Ann Morgan, Mary Zeiss Stange, Ross Kelbaugh, Robert Bogdan, David Kidd, Mark Parker, Ken W. Goings, and Patricia Hills communicated with me about my pictures and/or my writing. Their combined interest and expertise helped me write a better book.
Additionally, I contacted many public libraries and historical societies, looking for information about photographers or subjects that would assist me in dating or placing my images in their original context, and I want to list here the kind people who responded, even when they couldn’t turn up information for me: Carolyn Etchison at the Tipton County Heritage Center (Indiana), Lyn Martin at Willard Library (Evansville, Indiana), Kelly Halbert at the Des Moines County Historical Society, Shannon Simpson at the Ellis County Museum (Texas), Darlene Grams at the Blooming Prairie Branch Library (Minnesota), Karen Davis at the Sylvester Memorial Wellston Public Library (Ohio), Craig Pfannkuche and Holly Haupt at the McHenry County Historical Society (Illinois), Nancy Claypool at the Marshall Public Library (Illinois), Paul W. Schopp, John McCormick, and Gary Saretsky at the Riverton Historical Society (New Jersey), a thorough correspondent for the Chicago History Museum, and Chris, who responded on behalf of the Southwest Michigan Business and Tourism Directory. After Picturing Dogs is published, I will be donating photographs with studio identification to local historical societies.
I also want to acknowledge the array of colleagues affiliated with Pennsylvania State University Press, starting with the readers whose reviews educated and encouraged me. I appreciate the collegiality extended to a newcomer in visual studies and animal studies. Laura Reed-Morrisson
