$47 a month
The personal canvas on its own.
The personal canvas
The areas of a life, the projects inside them, and what each one gives back: in pots, in pounds, in members, in dollars, in hours reserved. The part that is the point of doing it stays yours, and the canvas never counts it as time to be saved.
You will need an account to keep what you draw, and never a card.
The Driving Force sits above. Beneath it are the areas that produce something for somebody else, the areas where the doing is the point, and the supports whose customer is another part of the same life.
Eleven parts arrive with the canvas, and what you call them is yours.
Nothing is ever deleted, only parked: a parked area still shows, gray, with the date you parked it, because an area you have stopped working on is a thing to see rather than a thing to hide.
An area holding no project and no seat is drawn as a finding.
A project is bounded work inside one area: an aim in a sentence, a season with two dates, and an end.
It declares what it gives back and in which unit: twelve pots, eighty members, two hours a week reserved, or simply shipped, and the canvas counts that in that unit rather than converting it into something comparable.
One seat on a project is marked Mine: the part that is the point of doing it.
A seat marked Mine shows no switch at all, rather than one it would be wrong to use, and the hours it takes are counted as a return in their own right, never as time saved.
What is left is the busy work around it: booking the kiln, checking what expires, keeping the record, and that is the part there is any sense in handing over.
Adventure and making
Twelve I would keep, by the end of March
12 pots
Throwing, glazing, and deciding which twelve are the twelve.
The morning panel is the front door: one line for each thing, across every area and every project, with whatever is waiting on you at the top.
Handing something over is one control on the row: me, my assistant, or an agent on my own AI account, and the gate does not move with the occupant.
Five minutes is the budget it was built against, and it was built for one thumb before it was built for a desk.
A planner is an ordered list of tiles, each one bound to a question the canvas can already answer: what is waiting, what ran, and what a project has returned against what it declared.
A new account opens with a planner already laid out, so nobody has to build one before they can use one.
Three tiles need a connection that is not built yet, and each says what it is waiting for where its grid would be rather than drawing an empty week.
The paragraph you type at the start is read once, by a model on our account, to propose cards: every card quotes the sentence it came from, and a card whose quote is not actually in what you wrote is dropped before you ever see it.
Nothing is written until you accept a card, one at a time, and the paragraph itself is not kept as a document by us afterward. It is used to answer that one request and then it is gone.
Point us at a folder instead of a paragraph, and the same rule holds: we index what you point us at, and we never hold a copy of the documents.
Your journal, your reviews and your own scoring of a day are read by nothing: not summarized, not scored, not sent to a model.
An agent holding one of your seats is connected to your own AI account rather than to ours: we specify, connect and measure, and we do not hold the credential.
The only runs that ever happen on our account are a trial's, bounded by a stated number of runs and a fixed length, and those are on us.
A business that pays for a seat on your canvas sees that seat: its contract, who is holding it, and what it produced, and has no route to anything else, whichever area you filed it under.
If it stops paying, or you leave, the canvas stays yours.
$47 a month
The personal canvas on its own.
Included
With a business subscription, the first personal seat costs nothing.
$27 a month
Each personal seat after the first. Sign up before February 21, 2027 and pay $17 a month for as long as you stay.
Nothing is charged for the personal canvas today: there is no checkout behind it yet, and the button opens the canvas.
The part that is the point of doing it stays yours, and the canvas never counts it as time to be saved.
Open your canvasYou will need an account to keep what you draw, and never a card.