Turning the Phone

It happened at our company's Christmas party. A colleague asked me to take a photo. I grabbed her phone and, almost automatically, turned it sideways. She laughed and said, "Portrait mode, please!"

And it hit me.

Not because she was wrong. She wasn't. That's how you take pictures now. That's how they fit stories, reels and posts. It's just what we do. A small expectation embedded in every camera UI.

But in that moment I realized I'd never asked myself why I always do the opposite. Why, every single time, I turn the phone horizontal, even when I don't have to.

Capturing moments or creating content?

I've been part of the content-making world too. Posting, editing, aligning shots to meet a timeline aesthetic. It's easy to blur the line between capturing and performing. Especially when the urge to post becomes louder than the urge to remember.

Over time, I saw a pattern: vertical shots felt like content-first. I was already picturing a story or a feed while pressing the shutter. Horizontal shots, in contrast, felt slower. More personal. Intentional.

It made me ask: are my pictures really about the moment? Or just about what comes next?

Turning the phone sideways slows me down. It stops the autopilot. Suddenly, I'm framing not just a face, but the space around it. Not just a pose, but an entire setting. The pause shifts the experience.

Horizontal frames feel roomy. They let silence in. A breath. An attitude. A feeling of presence that vertical cropping often rushes past.

Choosing what to share

These days I try to bring the same awareness into how I use social media. No more posts "just because I should." No more capturing "content" that only exists for an algorithm.

I stopped posting stories about my personal life. Not for privacy, but because I realized: no one really needs to see it. And I have nothing to prove.

Now I choose: to live the moment fully and only capture what feels truly important to me, not for the algorithm.

Still part of the World

Of course, vertical is the language of now. It's fast. Immediate. Designed to be consumed within seconds. And I admire the creativity that comes from it. This isn't a rejection of the present.

It's a conversation with how I experience life. It's making space for stillness, intention, presence.

A simple habit

So yes, I still turn the phone. Not to reject what others do. Not to make a statement. But to remind myself: this moment matters.

Even if no one notices. Even if the image is never shared. Even if it's just for me.

We used to take photos to remember. Now we take them to be remembered.
Maybe turning the phone is just my quiet way of choosing the first.