Jeremiah Alalade

One expired permit can shut down an entire construction site. Not because anyone was careless, but because compliance still lives on spreadsheets, and a certificate that lapsed in March doesn't announce itself until an inspector turns up in June. DocuCheck reads the document instead. Upload a permit, a scan, or a photo taken in bad light on site, and it comes back with pass, warning or fail in plain English, in under thirty seconds. The hard part was never the AI. It was the rulebooks. COREN and NESREA in Nigeria, EPA and LUSPA in Ghana, NHBRC and SANS 10400 in South Africa. No existing tool encodes any of that, which is exactly why those documents still get checked by hand, or not at all.

I wanted to dither an image and every tool I found wanted me to upload it somewhere first. For a photo I had not published yet, that felt like the wrong trade. So Pixels does all of it in the browser. Nothing leaves your machine. Six algorithms: Floyd-Steinberg, Atkinson, Bayer, Stucki, Burkes, Sierra. Threshold, strength and dot size to push around, a two colour palette you set yourself, then noise, vignette, glitch and chromatic aberration on top if you want to ruin it properly. Drop, paste or browse an image in. Export at up to 4x. No account, no upload, no waiting.

A school running since 2008 with nothing online a parent could judge it by. A Facebook page and word of mouth in Minna, and that was it. Parents ask the same three things before they enrol: what does this place actually stand for, how do the students do, and how do I start. So the site answers those in that order and then gets out of the way. It also has to load on a bad connection, on a phone, on the first try. That shaped more decisions than anything aesthetic did.

Love for Koffi, fear of small places. That line came first and the whole page exists to earn it. Coffee brands crowd the frame with beans and steam and hands wrapped around mugs. This one leaves space instead, because room to breathe is the actual promise, and a layout can make that argument better than another sentence of copy can.

I miss the version of the internet where things felt like objects you could pick up. So this is a cork board. Pin photos to it, drag them around, leave them crooked. Nothing to sign up for, nothing to optimise, no feed. Just a board that behaves the way a board should when you push a photo across it.

Selling something abstract is where landing pages give up and reach for a photo of someone smiling at a laptop. Weme captures and organises ideas across work, life and everything in between, which means there is no product shot to lean on. So the page had to make an invisible thing feel like something you could hold, without overpromising what it does.

Pricing pages are where clarity matters most and gets designed least. Three tiers for a payments product, a monthly and yearly toggle, and a FAQ underneath answering the things people actually email support about. The only test that counts is whether you can compare the plans without reading anything twice.

One hero section on its own, with nowhere to hide. One headline, one supporting line, one action. When there is no second section to carry the weight, you find out very quickly whether the message is any good or whether you were relying on scroll to save it.

The footer is the part of the page everyone leaves until last, so I started there on purpose. Oversized type carries the sign off, thank you for your curiosity, let's build something cool, and the link columns sit underneath without competing with it. Most footers are a dumping ground. This one had to feel like an ending.