Fostering a support system requires vulnerability and a level of trust that takes time and care to create. For me and many others born in my generation, one way of expressing and sharing that vulnerability is through taking pictures, often of and with one another.

Using the ultra-wide lens on a phone camera, more commonly referred to as “0.5,” we capture photos that are candid, unfiltered, and often exaggerated. These images stand in stark contrast to the carefully posed photos that flood social media feeds. Taken in the midst of everyday life, they offer a sense of intimacy and authenticity that opposes the handpicked, curated aesthetic typically seen online.

There’s something deeply personal about photographing someone with a 0.5 lens. It requires closeness both physically and emotionally. There’s also a vulnerability in being the subject of such a photo. A 0.5 doesn’t necessarily show a person at their most composed or traditionally “presentable.” The subject could be in any mood, caught mid-action, or simply existing as they are. When a 0.5 is taken, the person being captured doesn’t have to worry about how they look because the stranger, the better.

By translating these moments into paintings, I aim to bring the same spontaneity and candor into a gallery setting where, much like social media, only carefully posed and curated portraits are often seen.

Using a palette knife, I plan to capture the essence and spontaneity behind a 0.5 style. In doing so, I bring a familiar form of intimacy and trust into a more formal art context, inviting viewers to recognize the beauty in imperfection and the significance of everyday connections.