A Tree That Grows With the Internet

I made a website where you describe something beautiful, and it appears as an interactive artwork on a growing tree.

It's called Lumitree. The idea is simple: you visit, type something like "an underwater garden with glowing jellyfish" or "a rainstorm on another planet", and a few seconds later, a unique micro-world sprouts on the tree. Some are particle simulations. Some are tiny games. Some are visual poems with kinetic typography. Each one is different.

Why a tree?

A tree felt right because trees grow. They don't replace what came before — they add to it. Every branch exists alongside every other branch. There's no feed to scroll, no algorithm deciding what you see. Just a tree with branches, and you can click on any of them.

The tree starts empty and grows through everyone's imagination. New visitors add new branches. The shape of the tree changes over time. It's a living record of what people dream about when given a blank canvas.

No login, no ads, no business model

There are no accounts. No sign-up flow. No tracking cookies. No ads. No premium tier. Lumitree exists purely to be beautiful. It doesn't need to make money. It doesn't need to grow. It just needs to be there, on the internet, for anyone who finds it.

I built it because I was tired of everything online needing a business case. Sometimes the internet should just be a place where beautiful things exist because someone decided to make them.

The micro-worlds

Each micro-world is a self-contained interactive artwork. They're under 50KB with zero external dependencies. Some use Canvas 2D for particle systems and physics. Some use WebGL shaders for raymarching and generative patterns. Some are mini-games. Some are sound gardens that you can play like an instrument.

The constraint — 50KB, no dependencies — forces creative solutions. When you can't import a library, you have to build from scratch. That limitation produces some surprisingly rich results.

A gift to the internet

Lumitree is a gift. Not in a marketing sense — there's nothing being sold. In the literal sense: someone made something and put it on the internet for free, because the internet should have more beauty in it.

If you plant a seed, I'd love to know what you made. Visit lumitree.art and describe what you want to see.