Bringing AI-based tools to everyday businesses.

Their buyers could not picture the room, so we drew it for them.

They sold banquettes, chairs and tables to restaurant owners who had to imagine the finished space from a catalog. Most could not, and the deal stalled there.

We built software that takes a photograph of the empty room and lays their real product lines into it, in quantities that fit the actual walls, and returns a spec sheet the rep can quote from. The rep now walks in with the sale mostly made.

Two thousand fabrics published, and not one shown on a frame.

Makers publish enormous material libraries as flat swatch squares. A buyer cannot tell what any of them look like on the actual piece, in their actual room, so they hesitate or they return it.

We built the thing that photographs the maker's piece into the customer's own room, then re-renders it in whichever material the customer picks. Same room, same frame, different cloth.

No card processing, no delivery network, and every customer on WhatsApp.

A conventional storefront would have failed on the first assumption. There was no payment rail to check out through and no courier network to promise a date to.

So the storefront ends in a WhatsApp message instead of a cart, and what it sends is a staged photograph of the piece at true scale in the shopper's own room. The photograph is the part that gets forwarded, which is what brings the next customer in.

We use AI where it helps. There is none at all in this one.

Their entire sales process began with a sentence on their website: all we need is the dimensions. So we built the thing that takes the dimensions. Draw the building, drop the columns where they really are, and the racking lays itself in.

It counts every upright, beam and deck, and it says out loud what will not fit. The problem was deterministic arithmetic, so we wrote arithmetic. The drawing and the parts list read the same numbers, which means they cannot disagree, and it never claims a load rating it has not been given.

Live for the client. Shown on request, because it carries their name.

The consultation that used to cost an afternoon now closes itself.

A host describes the event in their own words. What comes back is a menu scaled to the headcount, a timeline with named hand-offs, and a shopping list split between caterer and host.

Every purchasable line routes into the caterer's own catalog, so the plan is also the order. The consultant runs on the caterer's site, in their chat, and under their name.

More shopping now starts with a machine reading your store than a person browsing it.

A catalog built for human menus is invisible to the thing that increasingly does the choosing. We rebuild retail catalogs in layers so they sell either way, and put a trained assistant on the floor that knows the recipes as well as the stock.

This is the part we run hardest on ourselves, because we own the stores it runs on and we are the ones who lose money when it is wrong.