Building both the seen and unseen - V0.2

The Visible Work

One month after launching this website, I kept building. V0.2 was the next phase: adding new sections, improving what already existed, and figuring out what this space actually wanted to be.

I built out my Footnotes section. This is where my walking observations live. I ported over some old posts from previous iterations of my online presence and gave the whole thing a typography-focused look. Clean, readable, letting the words breathe. It's about preserving what I've already written while creating space for what comes next.

And I added a blogroll page. Remember those? Before algorithms decided what we should read, people curated lists of websites they actually liked. Human recommendation instead of machine optimization. It's a small gesture toward the small internet I want to be part of. For now I've added some of my favorite websites. I'll grow it over time as I find more corners worth visiting.

The Invisible Work

All of this sits on top of something else. The real work of V0.2 happened underneath, where no one will see it.

The visible changes are minor. Color adjustments, layout shifts, better mobile responsiveness. But with Claude's help, I extracted components, eliminated duplication, organized files into something resembling actual architecture. The machine tells me I tore out almost 1,000 lines of code while adding 5,000 new ones.

Building with AI makes execution trivially easy. But it doesn't solve the craft problem.

Clive Thompson wrote recently about how taste becomes essential in the age of AI. When anyone can build anything, the only differentiator is knowing what's worth building and how it should feel. I think it also means caring more about everything.

Claude Code will happily generate whatever I ask for. Sometimes the solution is elegant. Sometimes it works but feels wrong. Sometimes it creates new problems while solving old ones. The AI executes and moves on. But someone still has to select typefaces, determine whether margins should be tight or generous, whether a button needs more breathing room. These aren't technical decisions. They're aesthetic judgements. AI assistance and best practices can't replace taste and feel. Then, there's also values and pride.

There's a story about Steve Jobs and the Apple II that I keep thinking about. Jobs insisted that the circuit board inside the computer had to be beautiful. Aesthetically laid out, elegant in its routing, even though users would never see it. The engineers thought he was crazy. His response was something like: "When you're a carpenter making a beautiful chest of drawers, you're not going to use a piece of plywood on the back, even though it faces the wall and nobody will see it. You'll use a beautiful piece of wood on the back. For you to sleep well at night, the aesthetic, the quality, has to be carried all the way through."

That's what V0.2 was about. Making the outside work and getting the inside right too, even though no one will notice.

Here's what a session looked like: I'd tell Claude to show me the code. Something would feel off. The same color hardcoded in seven different places. Three files doing identical things. The structure feeling messy.

I'd prompt: "Extract this into a reusable component." "Reorganize these files."

Claude would generate the code. I can't read code fluently, but I can recognize when something feels messy. Then I'd iterate: "Move that here instead." "Use this naming instead."

The AI doesn't know when to stop. It keeps generating until you tell it you're satisfied. You have to develop the compass that recognizes satisfaction. You have to care enough to keep pushing until it's right.

This is the practice I've committed to. Building in public. Learning by doing. Treating the website itself as creative work, not just a container for it. The discipline of making the inside right changes how you approach everything else, even when no one's looking.

The outside and the inside of this website are taking shape. No one will ever see the inside. Maybe not even the outside. That's fine. I'm the only one who knows and that matters.