obsaased.io itself: built with AI agents, edited with them, and redesigned so often that most people have never seen any version of it. That's the point.
This site is a project too, and probably the one I've fiddled with most. It started as a Notion page, became a real site on my own domain, and has since been a dark techy first draft, a magazine, a desk covered in taped prints, an ivory field notebook, a cobalt poster and now a quieter portfolio.
I'm still not happy with it. It changes most weeks, and most people have never seen any version of it. That's the beauty: nobody is watching, so I can keep trying things.
The hard part has been deciding what it should feel like. Techy and a bit gimmicky? Personal? Writing first? Then, as I built more, a portfolio. Every direction gets a dated design doc in the repo, so I can see how often I've changed my mind and why.
I also killed things that worked but felt wrong: a WYSIWYG editor, a sync from my notes app and an ivory and rust design that looked fine and wasn't me.
Astro, plain CSS and Markdown, deployed on Vercel. Pages CMS for quick edits from a browser. Agent skills for turning a braindump into a project write-up, building the catalogue and publishing, plus a voice guide that learns from my redlines. Claude and Codex are my co-editors.
Being allowed to be unfinished. The rules make that safe: content lives in plain files, every redesign is checked on a phone before it ships, and the records say exactly what's live. So I can throw a design away on a Tuesday and nothing breaks.
obsaased.io used to point at a Notion page. It made every project feel temporary, stuck in a chat, a repo or a half-finished note. I wanted a proper home for the work, and I wanted to know if a novice could get from a vague brief to a custom site on their own domain without getting stuck in setup.
It was my first serious local AI build, after doing most of my earlier building in Replit. I gave Google Antigravity a loose prompt: build a personal portfolio site, lean into design and make it personal. Creatively it wasn’t there yet. Functionally, it did the job fast: file-based content, Vercel hosting and the exact DNS records to point my domain.
Then I started taking things away. The first version had a WYSIWYG editor, which was clunky, so it went. The React app became a plain Astro site. A sync from my notes app was clever and dangerous, so that went too, and the repo became the only source of truth. What was left was simple: every project is a folder of Markdown, and agents write and publish from it.
The early designs were dark and techy. One mock I generated in April called the site “OBSAASED. CYBER” and promised “human-centric artifacts for the 2028 hyper-reality”. It never shipped, and it’s still a useful reminder of what I don’t want.
July was the desk. A noir masthead, warm dotted paper, projects as taped prints with little rotations and notes as lined paper cards. And behind every page, a fold-gradient shader.
The shader was my distraction. It’s a real WebGL fragment shader, folded ribbons of colour drifting slowly, and I gave the homepage seven sliders for softness, saturation, rotation, zoom, ribbon, strip width and speed. Then I spent far too long tuning it. When it made scrolling heavy, an agent lowered the resolution to fix it, and I noticed straight away on a retina screen. The grain went soft, so that change was reverted. The fix that stuck was pausing it while you scroll, stopping it when it’s off screen and showing a still image on phones.
In September I swung the other way. A refined field notebook in warm ivory, ink and rust, with serif headlines and no animation. It looked fine. It wasn’t me, and it lasted about a week. The replacement went loud on purpose: white, ink and cobalt, then acid yellow and coral, oversized type and staggered project cards, with the stories of what I learned treated as seriously as what I shipped.
Every one of those is a dated design doc in the repo. Reading them back, the pattern is obvious. I keep bouncing between techy, personal, writing-first and showing the work.
As I built more, the site turned into a portfolio. Every project now gets a short write-up in four parts, what it is, what I steered, what I wired together and where I pushed it, plus films and live sites where they exist. Then the homepage felt like a software landing page, so it became one sentence about what I make, with small pictures of the projects in it.
The editing is the part I didn’t expect to enjoy. Claude and Codex are my co-editors. I dump thoughts out, a writing skill turns them into project copy, and I redline it. The redlines go into a voice guide, so the next draft sounds more like me. Quick fixes happen in a browser through Pages CMS, and anything bigger goes through an agent that checks the build and the phone layout before it publishes.
I’m still not happy with it, and it changes most weeks. Most people haven’t seen any version of it, let alone all of them. That’s the beauty of it. There’s no audience to disappoint yet, so I can keep changing it until it feels like mine.