Most portfolio sites are decorated. This one is constructed. The whole site runs on a single 40-pixel module: every column, gap and block of type is a whole number of those units. The idea is borrowed from Müller-Brockmann and Gerstner, who worked out that a grid isn't a limit on design but the thing that makes it repeatable. What's different here is that the grid is machine-readable — so an AI agent can build inside it without me redrawing every screen.
I didn't want gloss. Rendered graphics and stock imagery signal effort without carrying information — decoration standing in for thinking. What I wanted was a whiteboard crossed with an architect's working drawing: Swiss structure underneath, the marks of someone solving a problem on top. That's why emphasis is a highlighter stroke rather than bold type, and why a link draws a scribbled overline on hover. Those are working gestures, not finished ones — this is what design looks like while the problem is still being solved. Twenty years of watching software get built, and now built with AI, has only sharpened the point: structure, principles and context matter more than ever.
Four working tones and two accents. Nothing is a one-off — every hairline and rule is the ink at reduced opacity.
Five. Short enough to hold in your head, which is the only kind that get followed.
All of the above lives in one file — the tokens with their variable IDs, the module, the column canon, the measure, and a log of the places where this site currently breaks its own rules. It's the context an AI agent is handed before it touches anything here, so constraints arrive as constraints rather than preferences. That's why the tenth screen matches the first. The drift log is the honest half: a system that only records its intentions is marketing.
Read the file →A system that only documents its intentions is marketing. These are the places where something else won, and why.