How we'll remember
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Capture memories how you'll want to relive them later, not share them today. Read time: 5 mins Hi Reader, I’ve been paying more attention recently to how we capture and revisit personal memories, especially the ones we record without thinking. It started with a small shift at home and grew into a bigger curiosity about how we watch, share, and even archive the moments that matter. There’s something interesting about how easy it has become to document life, yet how little we consider the long-term experience of looking back. Most of us take photos or record short videos because it feels natural, fast, and familiar, and once shared, we trust that the memory is “saved.” But I’ve started to wonder whether the way we document things today will help us remember them the way we hope to. Not in the sense of nostalgia as an idea, but nostalgia as a shared moment — the type that makes you pause, not swipe. That’s where this newsletter started. From the experts
“A picture just means I know where I was every minute. That’s why I take pictures. It’s a visual diary.” Andy Warhol, interview (1960s)
“People so often whip out their cameras almost mindlessly to capture a moment, to the point that they are missing what is happening right in front of them.” Linda Henkel, describing her research on photo-taking (2013)
“In the past, people have looked at photos as a record of memory… With Instagram, the focus is on the present tense.” — Kevin Systrom, interview with Business Insider (2011)
“Americans no longer talk to each other, they entertain each other. They do not exchange ideas; they exchange images.” — Neil Postman, Amusing Ourselves to Death (1985) At home Lately, I’ve been thinking more carefully about the photos and videos I take of my family. For the past couple of years (especially after our son was born) I defaulted to convenience: phone in my pocket, double-tap to open the camera, natural vertical orientation. Hands were busy, and carrying my mirrorless camera felt like unnecessary weight on top of nappies, bottles, toys and everything else. So I captured what I could, as quickly as I could, mostly in vertical and mostly for immediate sharing on Instagram Stories or WhatsApp. But that habit no longer reflects what I want from these memories. A couple of weeks ago in London, we had one of those rare gatherings where multiple generations sit together in a living room: grandparents, parents, and kids. My uncle, the keeper of our family archive, loaded up old videos from our childhood. Suddenly, the room was full of laughter, reactions, comments, guesses, side-stories, and forgotten details. That shared viewing experience triggered something. It made me think about the last two years of capturing my son’s life. So many of those clips were perfect for a phone, but not ideal for a TV. And that’s when it became obvious: I don’t want his childhood to be replayed as a private scroll. I want it to be watched together. Side-by-side, on a sofa, years from now. Not scrolling through a phone. Not alone. But side by side on a sofa, watching with loved ones in a shared viewing experience. Later that week, we spent a few quiet afternoons at the park near my parents' house to burn off Diwali treats. The colours were soft, the mood was slow, and without really thinking about it, I found myself lifting my phone horizontally. Something else surfaced too. Orientation matters. I once believed great family photos meant staying invisible. Capturing the “real” moment without interrupting it. Over time I realised I don’t want to be a silent observer. I want my son and my family to know I’m there, engaged, and part of whatever is happening. A photographer I admire said that the camera shouldn’t act as a barrier between you and your family. It should strengthen the connection. Now, when I take a photo or a short video, I don’t pretend I’m not there. Everyone knows what I’m doing and why. They can say yes, no, suggest something, or simply carry on. The capturing becomes part of the memory, not a separate moment. We’re making it together. And when you combine presence with shared viewing, the horizontal frame feels natural. It aligns with how we see, how we gather, and how memories are best revisited. Casting from a phone to a TV has quietly become normal behaviour, and the device in our pocket has turned into the real household remote control. What I first noticed at home is something I’m also seeing out in the world of digital media. On the platforms This shift mirrors what’s happening in media more broadly, where YouTube now feels like one of the most exciting spaces for new projects. Last week I created a new channel for a project, and it reminded me how long it had been since I last did that, even though YouTube has been part of our lives since Ronaldinho hit the bar three times. What feels new is how legacy publishers and a new generation of creator-journalists are building around the platform. Video podcasting continues to expand, monetisation tools keep evolving, and more emerging media companies are choosing YouTube as their primary focus rather than something secondary. Video has become the default language online, and audiences are increasingly using YouTube not just for quick clips but for entertainment, learning, and long-form viewing at home. It now plays in the same living-room spaces as the major streaming platforms and has a rare presence across phones, tablets, computers and TVs. Creative tools (including generative AI and simple front-facing formats) have lowered the friction to making expressive, personal video. With more content available, recommendation systems keep improving, which strengthens discovery, loyalty and habit. At the same time, traffic to traditional websites continues to soften as people turn to answer-based tools for quick information, leading publishers to invest more energy in platforms where audiences naturally gather. YouTube has become the place that delivers what viewers already enjoy about video: personality, intimacy, learning, storytelling, entertainment, and attention that feels more intentional than scrolling. Escape the algorithmSomething I watched: The Next Era of Formats. Chicken Shop Date celebrated its 10th anniversary, so when it comes to new formats, they’re worth listening to. This one-hour discussion between a digital commissioning exec and an award-winning producer planted a few seeds that linked really closely with the reflections above. Something to read: The Future of Media is Being Built on YouTube - AdWeek. A 7 min read related to today's newsletter. Something I'm reading: Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow, by Gabrielle Zevin. I’m back to fiction after a long time. The story follows two friends who build a successful video-game company together. With the final hour of the day being the only realistic reading window, fiction feels much healthier than trying to squeeze in note-taking with non-fiction before sleep. Some things I've been up to:
Coming soon: A few things
If you got this far, you're part of 72% of subscribers, so thank you, Reader. The last few months of the year can feel like the world is coming to an end. I hope you're taking things in their stride. If a section has particularly interested you, click the link of the corresponding section. It helps me prepare future newsletters. If this email was forwarded to you, please consider subscribing. See you in two weeks. Peace, Has
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