By day I direct business intelligence — reporting teams across Asia-Pacific and the Americas, and the unglamorous work of making sure a number means what everyone thinks it means. The rest of the time I build the operational software the people around me were never going to be sold: a church, my father's music studio, a couple of local businesses.
Reporting and analytics leadership across Asia-Pacific and the Americas, with teams in the Philippines and India.
Rock of Ages Baptist Church, Morristown. Records, membership, and the systems the office runs on.
Operational software for churches, studios, and small businesses — designed to be owned by the people using it.
Behind a kit since childhood, teaching privately. My father has taught music full-time my whole life.
No concepts, no case studies for work that never shipped. Each of these is running right now, with real users who will tell me when it breaks. Hover a row to see it.
The church's public site and the private system behind it: membership records, annual district statistics, ministry management, and document storage, with permissions that match who actually does what. Built so the church owns every piece of it.
Contract lifecycle management for physician groups. Most tools in this category are a document folder with search. The useful part is the renewal math — notice windows, a named owner, and an escalation path when nobody acts.
Studio management for independent music teachers — scheduling, invoicing, lesson notes, payments, and a parent portal. My father teaches full time and was the first user, which is a demanding place to start.
A studio site for a working music teacher, built to be found by parents searching for lessons in the area. It reached the top of local results for its terms within a quarter.
A Tennessee small-business site with a voice of its own. One of the builds that pushed me to put a proper shared component library underneath everything else.
I serve as Church Secretary. That is the job that produced the engineering — not the other way around.
When I took the role, the church's operations lived in a personal Google Drive folder owned by one individual. Everything the office depended on depended on him — which is exactly the failure the pastor had asked me to fix.
So the work was never really "build a website." It was: move the church's institutional memory somewhere the church itself owns, and make sure no single person — including me — is a point of failure.
The GitHub repository, the hosting account, and the database all belong to the church. I am a collaborator on infrastructure I built. If I disappeared tomorrow, the office keeps working and someone else can be handed the keys.
I'm Devon. I live in Morristown, Tennessee, and I've spent my career in operations and analytics — running reporting teams, sitting between the people who need an answer and the data that supposedly has it.
Somewhere along the way I got tired of watching good organizations lose to bad software. Not expensive problems, either — a church tracking membership in a spreadsheet one person could lock, a music studio invoicing by hand, a small business that couldn't be found by the people looking for it. Ordinary problems that somebody should have solved already.
So I build the thing. I'd rather hand you something working than walk you through a deck — it's a cheaper way for both of us to find out I'm wrong. What I build is meant to outlive my involvement: your data stays yours, and you can take it with you.
Outside of that: I've been playing drums for over twenty years and still teach. I serve my church. I have a 1985 Monte Carlo that has been almost finished for a while now, and I've made peace with it.
Software problems, reporting problems, church-office problems, drum lessons, or just a conversation. I read everything that comes through here.