Hi James, could you tell us a little about yourself, please?
Thank you for inviting me. I’m from Falcarragh. I grew up in a house with six siblings. A decent wee gang, but without our mother for many of those years as she passed away aged 41. I worked on London building sites at 15 for a few months, and went back at 17, eventually returning home aged 37.
I worked in construction, then tunnelling, and in 2005 suffered an 11,000-volt electrocution. Of all places, it happened in the Isle of Dogs in London. Little did I know then, but it was the worst and subsequently the best day of my life.
You’re known for travelling with your dogs Iggy and Frida…
After the accident, I got the sympathy vote from a girl at home, so returned to Falcarragh in 2008. This was the influence behind a lot of things, including my introduction to the Border Collie breed.
During 2010 my mental health dipped, leading to an attempted overdose. A few days after a collapse I reported it to my doctor. When I left the medical centre, feeling quite alone, I decided my only way forward was to bring a pup into my life.
After seven months of swiping left, suddenly my heart skipped a beat: I’d found Iggy. There she was, a beautiful tri-colour Border Collie, born on a farm and no breeders involved. Three boxes ticked and I didn’t care if the pup was male or female. My uncle Fr Sean O’Donnell had recently passed away in Donegal Hospice. I was his carer, and after his funeral I decided to give the future pup his middle name: Ignatius, AKA Iggy. Even though Iggy was a girl, I was never going to change the name.
Within a few weeks, I could feel my world starting to improve. I had new purpose and a responsibility to Iggy.
Iggy and Frida on a trip to Germany.
In what order did it come – the walking, the dog, the photography?
We celebrated Iggy’s 1st birthday with her maiden hike up Errigal and afterwards her maiden pint of Guinness with me in The Shamrock Lodge, Falcarragh. She became popular around town, even acknowledging some names with a bark!
We hiked mainly on the Seven Sisters, Glenveagh and the Poisoned Glen, and many lanes and boreens. After six months I started documenting our days out with photos, and during Friday evening pints I’d show friends where we’d been. To my surprise, folk were very complimentary; this led me to join Instagram in 2013. During these early photography months, I developed an incredible bond with Iggy; that comes across in our reflection shots.
Iggy became known worldwide via social media and press interviews. This led to invites to promote dog-friendly bars, restaurants, and accommodation. I really enjoyed this: we got to engage with so many people, I was pushing myself beyond my comfort zone, and very proud of Iggy.
You’ve spoken about your mental health before. How are things now?
My health is now much better, but still impacted by the pressures of keeping a small business afloat. I’ve Iggy to thank for my determination, having watched her resilience through the years. In the last five to six years I’ve done more than I ever imagined because of her.
Do people recognise you when you’re out and about?
We are currently housesitting for Ani Moriarty, a French travel writer, in a quiet village in France.
In Brittany our van got a lot of attention, with our Donegal stickers and Irish reg. It really brought home the Celtic connections with lots of folk chatting to us with good, little or even no English! Frida sitting in what should be the driving seat in France is very funny. I get a laugh every day.
At home, our van is recognised quite a bit: people smile, wave, and message us from Malin to Cork to say they saw us. I always wanted the van, like our photography, to be a simple but fun distraction in people’s lives. They’re needed more than ever.
Social media isn’t always pleasant. Do you have strategies for that?
Here in France, I’m enjoying the “mild solitude” as I’m only now admitting that I’m struggling with burnout. It’s to do with writing mainly, and a lot of the ghosting and criticism I’ve experienced over the last two years. That takes a toll. And I want to write my first book – I made a promise that I would make a start in Iggy’s lifetime, and to continue beyond it.
I accepted the opportunities to house-sit abroad this year after deciding not to return to the US to showcase my photography for the first time in five years. I need to be with Iggy, and as she can travel in our van I made a dream come true by bringing her to Paris for my birthday in May.
Any final thoughts?
I’d like to highlight Iggy’s influence. She has encouraged folk to take up or return to photographypainting. Many have painted my images of Iggy; I could have an exhibition with that work alone.
She has helped people decide on getting a dog for the first time, or to return to dog ownership after loss. She has helped people through loss, through recovery from ill health and depression.
For many different reasons, we engage weekly with folk passing on their gratitude for Iggy and Frida’s presence online. We meet tourists in Falcarragh throughout the year and are happy to engage when we’re on the road.
A high this year was escorting a coach of US tourists around Donegal and bringing them to businesses and locations that best reflect its tradition and beauty. Iggy was the connection here once again.
Myself and Iggy were meant to meet, and it was my job then to bring her to the world. She allowed me to express myself in a world that expects you to conform. And when you don’t conform, you end up loving your dog more.
