ON LOCATION:
on location is FIXER’s MAGAZINE section dedicated to highlight Venezuelan photographers working on a life assignment far from home. migration is a Venezuelan reality embraced from many different reasons and through many different processes, but with one thing in common for every venezuelan: the feeling of displacement.
we focus here on photography that has nurtured from leaving behind life as expected and faced new realities. the use of gray as this section’s color is an analogy to all of those shades of gray we’ve had to make ours while facing new environments.
VANESSA ARIAS RUIZ
caracas, venezuela —> hawaii, USA
How has your journey from caracas to miami
and now Hawaii shaped your photographic voice?
Caracas is responsible for a large part of my identity. It’s my city, my refuge, the place that built my resilience and constantly tested my morals. The city of macaws on balconies, colorful and uneven houses, sidewalks lifted by tree roots, and streets covered in yellow and pink flowers. But it was also the city of fear, of hopelessness—the one that made me flee on a plane with two thousand dollars in my pocket, leaving my family behind in a dictatorship. A city of contrasts.
In September 2017, I landed in Miami, and by February of the following year, I was at Roberto’s school. That’s how I arrived in Wynwood, with a $300 camera I had received as a Christmas gift and without even knowing how to turn it on. I found it fascinating that I could "freeze" time, using the camera as an excuse to step into someone’s life. To me, the camera is a magic wand. It’s like pressing the fast-forward button, skipping superficial conversations, and going straight to the heart of a person—to what moves them, excites them, scares them, or gives them goosebumps. As if I could speed up the process of getting to know a stranger and tear down the walls between us.
My photographic journey has been one of introspection, observation, and letting go. Sometimes, before looking outward, I had to look inward.
In 2020, life brought me to Hawaii, and quarantine led me to photograph nudes. I suppose part of me felt that way—nude. I was in the middle of the Pacific, far from everyone I loved, about to enter lockdown. I had lost my job and was going through a divorce. So one day, I picked up my notebook and started writing. I called it Bare Idea—a series of artistic nudes in Hawaii’s landscapes.
I became obsessed with capturing vulnerability, and in that process, I realized the series was a metaphor. There are many forms of nudity; taking off your clothes is just one of them.
Do you see elements of your Venezuelan roots in the
way you frame the world today?
There’s something fascinating about chaos. Being Venezuelan taught me to find beauty in imperfection, in what’s raw and unedited.
I consider myself a passionate person—something that defines many Latinos—and that passion is reflected in my creative process. I see the people I photograph as humans first and subjects second. I care more about creating a transformative experience than capturing a perfect image, and I embrace the process of co-creating a safe and artistic space. Sometimes, I arrive with a clear vision, and it unfolds exactly as I imagined. Other times, the subject brings something unexpected to the table, and it turns into something even more wonderful. Venezuela taught me to pivot without seeing it as failure, but rather as an opportunity to learn something new.
Balancing between two worlds has taught me to question everything—from my upbringing to my spirituality, my customs, the way I live, create, love, and exist. After all, we don’t photograph reality, but rather how we perceive it. The lens, like the pen, is a storyteller.
Looking back at your time at our school in Miami,
what is the biggest lesson you carry with you in your professional work today?
I believe in the value of conventional education. It’s true that you can learn photography on YouTube, but there is something irreplaceable about real-life interaction with a mentor—someone who doesn’t just teach you the technical aspects and basics of composition but also professional ethics, the discipline of the craft, and yes, someone who, from time to time, tells you that your photo sucks.
Constructive criticism shapes us, not just as photographers but as human beings. It teaches us humility, commitment, adaptability, and problem-solving. Being a good photographer isn’t just about taking a pretty picture—it’s about using creativity to make a difference. Maybe, without knowing it, you captured the last photo of someone before they passed, and now their family treasures it as the only thing left of them. Or maybe you took the first professional photo of a business, helping someone materialize their dream. Perhaps your image moved a reader to connect with a story or documented a moment that will remain imprinted in history.
What we do is more than just pressing a button. We are the ones who see the invisible, who give a voice to those who cannot speak, who shift narratives and freeze time.
The school left me with a sense of responsibility: photography can be a hobby, but it is also a craft, a commitment to history, memory, and life itself. Carrying the title of "photographer" is an honor, and it should be taken seriously.
what would you tell your younger
self when you first picked up a camera?
Don’t obsess over technique, having the best camera, or making every image perfect. Photography isn’t about that. It’s about seeing, feeling, and discovering the world with new eyes. One day, you’ll realize that the camera is just an excuse to step into people’s lives, to connect, to translate emotions into images. And also, to understand yourself. Every photo you take will say just as much about you as it does about the person in front of your lens.
So let go of the fear. Make mistakes. Take imperfect photos, but take them with intention. The most valuable thing you can capture isn’t in the pixels—it’s in what the image makes people feel.
Let yourself be surprised, unsettled, pushed to investigate and change the narrative. Again and again. Art is never static.
Vanessa Arias Ruiz
caracas, venezuela —> Hawaii, USA
Vanessa Arias Ruiz (Caracas, 1993). Venezuelan photographer and writer drawn to people and the beauty of entering their worlds through art. From the suburban homes of New Jersey to Miami’s neon lights and Hawaii’s volcanic shores, every place she has lived fuels her creativity.
She always carries a notebook of scattered ideas and a camera that feels like a magic wand. Both the pencil and the lens serve as her tools to explore other worlds—and, at times, to rewrite her own.
She holds a degree in International Relations from Santa Maria University (Caracas) and studied photography at Roberto Mata School of Photography (Miami). Her work appears in Vacaciones sin hotel, an award-winning anthology of Latin American writers in the U.S.
She is currently working on a photography book based on her artistic nude series, Bare Idea.
INSTAGRAM / WEBSITE
Portrait by Daniel Torobekov
