Fisherwoman Elenia Torres, 31, watches as a boat full of fishermen pull on the net system held in place by their boat in Guabina, Venezuela, on August 9, 2024. Elenia has been fishing for 6 years and lives in Ocumare de La Costa.
Fisherwoman Andrea, 22, holds a rubia fish she caught with her husband and son in the town of Puerto Maya, Aragua, Venezuela, on October 14, 2024. They then moved to sell their catch at the port of La Zorra, in La Guaira, Venezuela. Fisherwoman Yoleiza, 30, poses for a portrait in La Guaira, Venezuela, on October 24, 2024.
Fisherwoman Cindy González, 32, pulls out a net during a fishing trip in Ocumare de La Costa, on August 11, 2024. She learned the trade from her father and her mother María Sánchez, 62, who is one of the oldest fisherwomen in Ocumare de La Costa, nicknamed “The queen of the picúa”.
Detail of the statue of San Rafael, which is located in the church of Ocumare de la Costa as part of the religious and spiritual beliefs surrounding the fisherwomen and fishermen of the area in Venezuela on August 11, 2024. The saint holds a fish in his right hand, which could even resemble a baby. On the other hand, the fish symbolizes the healing properties of the saint.
Fisherwoman Maria Salazar shows off her tattoos near the pier of Ocumare de la Costa, Venezuela, on August 28, 2024.
Fisherwoman Rina Alvarez, 42, poses for a portrait with her fishing knife at the Guabina beach in Venezuela on August 9, 2024.
Fisherwoman Yarami Ramirez, 32, talks to the men during a farewell party for a migrating fisherwoman at the Trilla river near Ocumare de la Costa, Venezuela, on August 30, 2024.
Family album portrait of Milagros “Corito” Molina (42 years old), fisherwoman and processor, mother of two children. On top of a landscape of Ocumare de la Costa Aragua in Venezuela on August 11, 2024.
Dawn breaks on the fishing coast of the town of Adícora, Venezuela, on April 25, 2024. Fisherman Luis Chirinos got off the boat saying “The sea rules like you women.” He explained that the sea was dirty and that was why there was little fishing that night.
A 21 kilo red snapper lies with its tail hanging from the fish market’s table near the Ocumare de la Costa pier in Aragua, Venezuela, on August 28, 2025.
The granddaughters of fisherwoman Maria Sanchez, 62, hold a dress she made for them in Ocumare de la Costa, Venezuela, on August 11, 2024. The butterflies are a reminder of the devotion to the Virgen del Camen by the local fishermen and fisherwomen.
Fisherwoman Cindy González, 32, shows her tattoo at her mother’s home in Ocumare de La Costa, on August 11, 2024. It reads, next to a fish, the name of Rodolfo González, her late father, also a fisherman. She learned the trade from him, but also from her mother María Sánchez, 62, who is one of the oldest fisherwomen in Ocumare de La Costa, nicknamed “The queen of the picúa.”
Fisherwoman Milagros “Corito” Molina, 42, floats with her sons Rogleeberth and Rovjuan during a farewell party for a migrating fisherwoman on the La Trilla River near Ocumare de La Costa on August 30, 2024.
Cannonball jellyfish float in the sea during an infestation near Ocumare de la Costa, on May 3, 2024. Their presence negatively affects fishing since it drives fish away from the coast and the fisherwomen and men are forced to work further away from the coast.
Fisherwoman Doris Duque, 54, navigates the open sea as she talks about her work and being a female fisherman after leaving Cuyagua, Venezuela, on May 3, 2024. Doris has been fishing for 16 years.
Images from fisherwoman Vanessa Machado’s family album at Ocumare de la Costa, Venezuela, on August 12, 2025.
Fisherwomen and sisters Francis Chavez, 41, Perielia Chavez, 50, and Jennifer Bacalao, 33, pose for a portrait at the pier in Chuao, Venezuela, on April 10, 2025. Francis has been fishing for four years, Perielia for ten and Jennifer for five. The sisters usually ride on the same boat.
Double exposure of fisherwoman Jenny Tovar, 42, as she travels by boat during a fishing trip in Ocumare de La Costa, Venezuela, on August 10, 2024. Jenny has been fishing for 7 years.
A tuna fish painted on a mural near the fishing pier in Ocumare de la Costa, Venezuela, on August, 12, 2024.
The daughter of fisherwoman Jenny Tovar, Anelé Aparicio, poses for a portrait on the beach in Guabina, Venezuela, on August 10, 2024. She usually accompanies her mother on fishing tasks while discovering and losing her fear of the sea and its creatures, of swimming and all the textures of the landscape.
A woman aboard a ship is bad luck. And if she is menstruating, the sea becomes enraged. This is one of the many superstitions repeated along the Venezuelan coast. Until recently, fishing had been a traditionally male activity in Venezuela, but since 2018 there has been a feminization of the trade that we have been mapping as the Solunar collective, especially in the states of Aragua, La Guaira, and Falcón.
The collective project “Luna de agua” (Water Moon) explores the natural cycles that affect the lives of women fishers: the phases of the moon and the tides, the infradian cycles of the female body, and the closed seasons. At the same time, it addresses the economic crisis and women’s organized struggle for a place in this profession.
Adding to the precariousness of the crisis is gender-based violence, a constant threat to women on the Venezuelan coast. With one femicide recorded every 47 hours, according to data from Utopix in 2023, coastal states stand out among the regions most affected by domestic violence and femicides, where proximity to the sea contrasts with the isolation of institutions and support networks.
The coastline reflects the country’s inequalities, where poverty has a profoundly feminized dimension, as stated in the Survey of Living Conditions in Venezuela (2021). Women take on most of the unpaid work, assuming household responsibilities in communities where access to basic services and job opportunities is limited.
In these areas, they face a mosaic of vulnerabilities. Even so, they deploy collective strategies that transform adversity into resilience, coming together to ensure their survival and the dignity of their struggles. From caring for their families to preserving marine ecosystems, these women have shown that, even in a hostile environment, they are capable of forging a new model of strength and solidarity.
“Luna de agua” explores how women went from weaving nets to using them, and a fundamental part of this research lies in the rebellious proposal of telling a story with multiple voices, challenging the business model of media outlets that exclusively promote individuality, imposing new perspectives. As a collective, we combine photography, journalism, anthropology, and feminist activism. We are inspired by the participants in our images.
