We make websites that bite back. No grids you've seen before, no safe blue, no rounded corners begging to be liked. Just teeth.
The same hero, the same testimonial carousel, the same gradient blob. We burned them. Every layout starts as a blank scream, not a Figma kit.
If it doesn't move, it doesn't mean. Type that breathes, cursors that hunt, scrolls that fight back. Friction is intimacy.
Accessible? Always. Predictable? Never. A site should make your pupils dilate before it makes you click. Wonder is the conversion metric.
Pixels with a pulse. The web was meant to be feral — strange, loud, handmade. We're just letting it off the leash again.
Alignment is a suggestion, not a cage. Let elements overlap, tilt, and collide. Tension on the page is energy the eye can't ignore.
The smoothest path is the most forgettable. A weird scroll, a cursor that resists — small struggles make a visit memorable.
Letters aren't just for reading. Blow them up, cut them off, repeat them into a wall of sound. Words can be the whole composition.
Skip the safe defaults. Pick the move that makes a designer flinch — the stark contrast, the brutal scale — then commit to it fully.
The accident is the aesthetic. Distortion, noise, and broken pixels aren't bugs to hide — they're the fingerprints of something handmade.
Show the wireframe, the cursor coords, the loading count. The machinery is beautiful. Don't sand off the parts that prove a human was here.