I make small things you can hold. Keycaps, trays, tiny cast landscapes. Somewhere along the way I also started making software, which surprised me more than anyone.

Jelly Key is my keycap studio. We sculpt, mold, cast and hand paint miniature worlds that end up sitting on somebody's keyboard. Coral reefs, cyberpunk alleys, tiny sleeping cats. Every piece is finished by hand, so no two are exactly alike.

Jelly Smith is the workbench next door. Small batch EDC objects: valet trays, beads, charms, beam stands. Same hands, same obsession with finish, different shelf.

I am an artist, not a developer. I never learned to program and honestly I still cannot read most of what lives in these repositories.

What changed is that I can now describe what I want, work with an AI until the thing actually exists, then run it, break it, and tell it what feels wrong. That loop turns out to be enough. Not enough to call myself an engineer, but enough to stop waiting for someone else to build the tool I needed last month.

So everything here started the same way: something my own shops needed, built because nobody was going to build it for me. If it happens to be useful to you too, take it.

Fair warning. These are built by someone who reads results, not source. They work because I use them every day on real sites, not because I reviewed every line. Issues and pull requests are genuinely welcome, and you will probably understand my code better than I do.

A real thank you to Claude Code. Every repository on this profile exists because of it. Ideas I had been carrying around for years, quietly assuming they were out of reach for someone who cannot code, turned into working software that other people now run on their own machines.

Making open source turned out to be fun. I did not expect that part.