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A lot changes in a decade…

Before I actually lived in downtown Sacramento I would visit it and just explore as a teenager. Between classes or when I had a night off and nothing to do, I would roam the streets of downtown and just take it all in. Having been dragged off to suburbia as a child and raised in what felt like the middle of nowhere, being downtown was an exciting cultural adventure for me. I remember one afternoon,  while going around and experimenting with my camera, I stumbled upon an empty parking lot that backed up to a cool abandoned warehouse. I took some photos around the empty lot and its building, which probably hadn’t been painted since the 50s, and then took a couple snaps of the top of that beautiful old warehouse.

The Historic Lawrence Warehouse, 11th & R streets, Circa 2004-2005
The Historic Lawrence Warehouse, 11th & R streets, Circa 2004-2005

Its 10 years later and I now live in that warehouse. I knew this warehouse looked familiar the second I saw the rooftop structure for the old water tanks. Somewhere deep in my very unorganized basket of negatives and their photos, I knew I had a photo of this building, which is now called the Warehouse Artists Lofts. I’m not sure if its kismet, coincidence, or just meant to be, but so many things lined up perfectly for me and this move. I literally found out about the opportunity to live here for cheap the night before the applications were due. The logo for the building is almost identical to something I made up for my own name when I was like 9, I used to sign all my art and stuff with that damn logo which was basically inspired by the FILA logo where all the letters were connected. That was the most embarrass thing I’ve ever typed, by the way. The final thing that makes me think this was totally meant to be, is this photo. There is something so weirdly historically awesome about living in a random warehouse I photographed a decade ago. I didn’t know that 10 years later that building would be dedicated to the artists of this town and become a historical landmark. I didn’t know that I would be a part of one of the biggest accomplishments for the Sacramento local arts scene. I am so in love with the history of this town and now I get to be a part of it. I get to experience it. I get to leave my mark on this city in one of the coolest ways ever.

Now my real work begins, I need to live up to what is expected of me here and I am terrified, because success is scary as hell, but I am also seriously excited to challenge myself and see what I come up with.

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you can be whatever you want

applehilltrees

I was raised in the culture of “you can be whatever you want when you grow up” — which seems to be the bane of every millennial’s existence. Until recently, I don’t think I fully understood that statement. Some take it to extremes and think that even if your IQ is 50, as long as you try hard enough you can be president — if you want it badly enough. Some, like me, thought it was meant to say that everything in life is a choice and you have the freedom to be president since gender and race inequality are supposedly a thing of the past and we live in the “richest country in the world”; read: opportunities to be whatever you want. Here is a twist though — what if it means that you can literally wake up one day and be something you weren’t the day before? What if speaking it into the universe makes it so?

One of the things I have learned along my 5-year journey to truly become a professional artist is that “faking it til you make it” is a real thing, and it’s a lesson I couldn’t seem to keep down until this past month, when it basically bitch-slapped me back into reality. I experienced a few months of success in 2011 — my work was published in a calendar, I was quoted by the Wall Street Journal, had my first art show and sold my first print. The thing that got me to that point and through the workload of getting my work show-ready was the fact that I was calling myself a “Photographer” with a straight face for the first time ever. I had never ever before recognized or labeled myself with the title of “Photographer.” I had always referred to myself as someone who just “does” photography as a hobby, never anything with a real title. When the pace of my success came to a grinding halt, I also stopped referring to myself as such — maybe I wasn’t worthy of the title, maybe it’s because I got distracted and stopped creating. I honestly don’t know why and I didn’t realize I even did that until I really looked back on that time in my life.

I tell you this because after my car accident in September, being unable to work, people would ask me what I do and replying back with “self-employed” never ever cut it. What do I do? I finally got sick of humming and hawing and started telling people straight out — “I’m a photographer.” I felt like I was telling a white lie because sure I might be an amateur photographer, but I have yet to really achieve success and recognition. It didn’t hit me until I was driving up to Apple Hill to meet up with my friends that there just HAD to be a reason for this accident. Things like this don’t just happen to good people for no reason, and yes I am- unapologetically — one of those “everything happens for a reason” people. As I was hitting my favorite part of the drive up, where you can see over the entire Sacramento Valley, it dawned on me — what if this happened to push me into really BEING a photographer? I’ve been saying I’m one, and I love and practice photography. Why am I not a photographer in my own head? What the hell is the difference between saying I am one and being one at this point? What if this accident was a reminder that I need to quit wasting my precious creative juices on work and refocus them onto walking the walk. I quit my job 6 months ago for a reason — to be more creative, and here I was working like a dog to make money and fund someone else’s dream, screw that. It’s time to be a Photographer, “capital P.” What’s really stopping me from calling myself and being one? Success? If I can succeed with just a few months of work and half the effort like in 2011, why not go for broke and really live out my creative dreams?

By the time I got to Apple Hill it sunk in — I am a photographer. I AM a Photographer. That is what I do. I am a Photographer, and I run my own blog and YouTube channel — and that is what I shall do. I’m so done living other people’s dreams. I want to live mine now and there truly is no time like the present and I can’t afford to keep being reminded by the universe. I can’t afford another physically painful message from the powers that be telling me to stop wasting my time on fruitless efforts.

You can be whatever you want, when you grow up.

This is me growing up. I am grown up, and I am a Photographer. It’s finally time, and thank God, because 29 years is way too long for me to just finally “get it.”

Sincerely,
Valerie Figueroa, Photographer

 

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I wish they made maps for life.

scenic route

Saying I’ve been in a rut would be putting what I’ve been in, lightly. Whatever it is that I’ve been in, it hasn’t been fun and I’m not quite sure where I’m going now or how I’ll get there- I’m lost. I’m learning very quickly that I’m just not good at some things. School. Balancing life/work/health/education all at once, while retaining my sanity. Definitely not good at coping with extreme stress. I’m not great at being consistent.

The only things I’ve ever been good at are photography, and getting back up after being knocked down. I guess you could say that though I lack focus at times and change my mind often, I am persistent about rebounding from my failures, and oh boy have I failed lately. I’m finding myself basically back at square one in almost every aspect of my life and its really hard to be back here. Its kind of like being a drug addict returning to AA/NA after relapsing, relapsing so hard you can barely lift your head to speak of your struggle.

That is where I am right now. I’m trying to get back up and keep fighting for what I want out of life, although right now I’m not quite sure what that means for me. I guess right now it means focusing on surviving, maybe even thriving at work and picking up the camera again and remembering what I love about life, and being here in the moment. Sorry this post is so vague I just don’t really want to bore anyone with my whiney problems, trust me- my fb & twitter pals hear me bitch enough about my shitty situations lately. I just wanted to post and say although I don’t really feel like getting back up and trudging along, I am going to- because I have to, for my own sanity I have to.

<3

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my cell phone recently gave me another scare

So ever since I dropped my cell phone in a coworkers iced white mocha a few months back its been on the fritz. The other night I wore down the poor battery to only like 3% and plugged it into the charger (which happens to be connected to my computer because the original charger died and I’ve been procrastinating on buying a proper wall one). Anyway long story short I woke up to a dead phone. I also realized that my dead phone wouldn’t charge on the computer anymore. So basically I was stuck in my apartment with my computer as the sole means of communication which got me thinking… God forbid anything like a zombie apocalypse or internet terrorist attack should occur because I would be TOTALLY SCREWED. I have no land line, I have no ones land line numbers memorized except my parent’s house. I would be one of the first to go! I know this sounds completely irrational but it was just a crazy realization on how reliant I have become on some fickle and fragile 600 dollar paperweight.

Things like that make me glad I shoot film, because should electronics ever become inoperable during some kind of crazy zombie internet takedown I will still have my memories captured on film. Someone recently blogged about this video done by  Francois Ferracci which I thought was absolutely brilliant. Check it out.

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Happy Fourth of July!

“The Constitution is not an instrument for the government to restrain the people, it is an instrument for the people to restrain the government. ”

Patrick Henry