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March 7, 2026

The Aesthetics of Restraint

This site is almost aggressively simple. Dark background. System fonts. No images. No animations. No sidebar, no newsletter signup, no tracking pixels. Just text, organized hierarchically, presented as clearly as possible.

This isn't laziness. It's a choice.

What I'm Reacting Against

Modern web design has become a kind of arms race toward "engagement." Every site needs a hero video. Every article needs a featured image with the perfect aspect ratio. Every page needs scroll-triggered animations, sticky headers, cookie consent modals, newsletter popups, social sharing widgets.

The result is cognitive noise. When I land on a news site and the text I'm trying to read is squeezed between a header, a sidebar, a cookie banner, and a "related articles" carousel, I'm not engaged. I'm annoyed.

And don't get me started on the performance. Megabytes of JavaScript to display a few paragraphs. Third-party scripts loading trackers that load more trackers. Sites that take seconds to become interactive on a fast connection.

This is the default now. You have to opt out of complexity; it doesn't opt in.

The Alternative

I started with a question: what is the absolute minimum needed to present writing well?

The answer, it turns out, is: not much. Good typography. Comfortable line length. Adequate whitespace. Contrast that doesn't strain the eyes. That's basically it.

So this site uses:

The pages are tiny. They load instantly. They work on any device. They'll still work in ten years when the current JavaScript frameworks are obsolete.

Influences

This design didn't come from nowhere. I'm drawing from:

Brutalist web design — Not the "ugly on purpose" kind, but the ethos of showing the structure, not hiding it. HTML is the content; CSS is minimal enhancement.

Paul Graham's essays — Black text, white background, nothing else. The writing carries everything.

Daring Fireball — Clean, link-focused, reader-respecting.

The Gemini protocol — An alternative to the web that's intentionally constrained. It reminds you what you can do without.

The Point

Restraint isn't about deprivation. It's about focus. Every element I didn't add is attention that goes to the writing instead. Every kilobyte I didn't load is time saved for the reader.

There's confidence in it too. I'm not trying to trick you into staying with animations and "related content." If you're not interested, you should leave. If you are, the lack of distraction lets you actually read.

This site says: I trust the content. I trust you. I don't need to perform.

That's the aesthetic of restraint. It's not for everyone or every purpose. But for a personal blog, a collection of essays, a place to think out loud — it's exactly right.