A legal-data engine, an entire social network, a noise-machine storefront, a daily art ritual, a cryptid bureaucracy, and a pocket dimension of browser games that has no business existing. Wildly different briefs, one stubborn standard: it loads fast, works on every phone, and is built to be found. No two are alike. None of them are templates. A few of them are a little unhinged — on purpose.
The public face of a New York legal-referral service: plain-English pages, FAQ structured data, and attorney-advertising compliance carried on every page. Serious subject, zero legalese.
Visit site →A calm 3D pottery wheel — Three.js in the browser, a paid Android app on Google Play, and holder of Google's independently-awarded Teacher Approved badge. Its siblings — free Pootery and paid Cookie Cache — ship too.
Visit site →A social network built from absolute scratch — profiles, DMs, directories, moderation — for people who miss when the internet was weird. Zero dark patterns.
Visit site →Public-record analysis of state appellate courts — four state subdomains and a tireless robot that reads opinions so humans don't have to.
Visit site →Thirty-some tiny browser games and toys nobody asked for and everybody stays for. An arcade of nonsense, hand-built and frankly out of control.
Visit site →A case study in narrative-driven WCAG 2.1 accessibility — proof that "accessible" and "genuinely gripping" are allowed in the same building.
Visit site →Hand-built circuit-bent pedals and tape loops in a storefront, plus classic DIY synth guides rebuilt to actually be readable — by screen readers, at any zoom, on any phone. A store and a public service in one enclosure.
Visit site →A clean multi-page portfolio with custom styling and fully tuned SEO. Proof I can also do "tasteful and restrained" when the brief politely insists.
Visit site →The Department of Cryptid Records: an ARG-flavored archive with logins, point-farming, and official infractions. Bureaucracy, but make it cryptid.
Visit site →A ranked enumeration issued every day by the Concord Curatorial Collection, in which the Maple Milk Incident of 2001 reliably ranks first. Deadpan worldbuilding as a daily ritual.
Visit site →Field reports from Winnie — Editor at Large, and a dog. Worktop inventories, possible crimes, one irrelevant banana. Exactly as essential as it sounds.
Visit site →The one you're looking at. Hand-built in the same dossier style, because a web designer's own site had better pull its weight too.
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