For years, most of my writing has ended up scattered across social media, Slack channels, client deliverables, presentations, or buried in private notes. It was useful at the time, only to be quickly swallowed by the next algorithm update or trending topic. One of the main reasons I’m rebuilding this space is simple: I want a place for ideas that don’t come with an expiration date. Sure, I could have started a Substack, launched a newsletter, or set up yet another profile on yet another platform. But that wouldn’t actually solve the problem. One of the core ideas that shaped my early years on the web was straightforward: own my data, own my content, own “my platform”. A personal website might not be the most efficient way to publish content nowadays. It will certainly never compete with social networks for sheer reach. But it remains one of the few places where you have total control over what you say, how it looks, and how it evolves over time.
Back to basics (and aligning choices)
This rebuild is also a deliberate return to the fundamentals that made me fall in love with the web in the first place: semantic HTML, accessibility, performance, and open standards. This isn’t out of nostalgia—everything wasn’t better before. It’s because these principles have stood the test of time remarkably well. This mindset also influenced the technology behind this website. It’s built primarily with semantic HTML, modern CSS, and very little JavaScript, with Astro acting mainly as a compilation layer. Not because modern frameworks are inherently bad, but because every technology should be chosen according to the problem it solves. For a content-focused website like this one, simplicity still feels like the most sensible engineering decision. There are a few things cooking behind the scenes, but content comes first. Always.
I’ve spent the last twenty years working at the intersections of business, design, project management, and technology. I’ve been fortunate to work alongside and lead incredible creative and technical teams, doing everything from drafting governance models to pushing occasional commits myself. Today, I can hold my own in conversations with UX designers, developers, CTOs, stakeholders, and delivery teams.
But when you’re an Executive Producer or Program Manager managing budgets, governance, and complex enterprise platforms, deep technical exploration becomes a luxury. In large organizations, “proven” technologies — usually the most established and widely adopted, not necessarily the most relevant for a specific project — tend to prevail over experimentation, and for good reasons. Once a technology stack has been standardized across an organization, it is expected to support a wide range of use cases, even when it occasionally introduces more complexity than a project strictly requires. At the same time, I’ve also seen simple websites accumulate layers of complexity they never truly needed. Frameworks aren’t the problem. Misaligned technical decisions are. Every technology comes with trade-offs, and sometimes semantic HTML and a few lines of CSS remain the most sensible solution. At this stage of my career, I wanted to make room for that curiosity again. Since this website and my future R&D experiments are strictly a part-time hobby, I want my maintenance overhead to be as close to zero as possible. A minimalist approach dramatically reduces that overhead, allowing me to focus on a principle I’ve always believed in: Understand first. Automate second.
Staying close to the craft
Lately, our industry has become obsessed with “vibe coding” and instant, AI-assisted development. Don’t get me wrong: like everyone else, I use AI tools. Sometimes they save hours; other times, they confidently generate terrible ideas. The real trap today isn’t whether we should use AI, but whether we still understand the underlying craft well enough to know when it’s helping and when it’s making things worse. I don’t want to become dependent on tools I no longer comprehend.
The goal here isn’t to become a full-time Rust developer, a Go engineer or a designer. It’s to remain close enough to the craft to truly understand the people building alongside me.
While I’m happy to use these new tools in my Playground section, this core site has a deep dive into the documentation. No skimming, no cutting corners. I want to thoroughly understand again how the web is evolving, whether that means messing around with Go, Rust, Rive, WebAssembly, or WebGPU. I always tell junior producers the same thing: to orchestrate a project effectively, you don’t need to be a hyper-specialized expert, but you must understand the friction, the technical feasibility, and the limitations of your tools. This site is how I keep my own perspective sharp again, tech-agnostic, and grounded in reality. The better I understand the craft, the better I can help teams find solutions with the complexity, make informed decisions, and deliver meaningful work.
Sharing without the noise
This site isn’t just about code, though. I’ll also be sharing my twenty years of experience as a production and project director—distilling frameworks, creative tools, management methodologies, and business strategies. And I’m doing it entirely for free, with no strings attached. There will be no “like, comment, and slide into my DMs to get the link” nonsense, no gated content, and no paywalls. I have zero interest in chasing views, collecting leads, or gaming the LinkedIn algorithm. My philosophy here is straightforward: Do serious work, share it easy.
Built to last
This initial version is intentionally stripped down to the essentials:
- Fast by default
- Accessible to everyone
- Easy to maintain
- Built to last
No growth strategy. No content funnels. No engagement hacks. Just a place to learn, experiment, document, and share. A small corner of the web where ideas, experiments, and lessons learned can live longer than a social media post.